It's a simple rule. If you don't know someone, don't try to fix them. This is especially true if they haven't asked for help and you haven't asked for permission. It's old wisdom, covered as far back as the gospels. It's a cold and rainy day in Los Angeles. My body is stiff, my range of motion is limited. I went to yoga anyway, I wanted to see if I could loosen up. In one of the standing poses, the instructor came by and moved my knee out an inch. An inch is nothing except when you have a rheumatic arthritic disease that limits how far you can move your hips. That inch was the difference between tolerance and pain, health and injury, walking freely and limping. The instructor had great intentions. She could tell I knew what I was doing. I had a strong position, with a little adjustment, she was making it stronger. How often have I done the same thing? How often have I imposed help without enough knowledge, without asking permission. How many people have been hurt by the unintended consequences of my helpfulness, of being caught up in what I know instead of aware that there is so much I don't know? As I limp off to bed tonight, I pray that I become more present and less instructive in my relationships. Waiting until someone asks for my help, waiting to know them well enough so that I might actually be helpful, I inch forward in my own understanding - physically and metaphorically.
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