The Currency of Compliments

Dear community,

Here's the Cambridge Dictionary definition of a compliment: "A remark that expresses approval, admiration, or respect."

Clean and simple, and yet — for most of my life, receiving one felt anything but clean.

I grew up around people who gave compliments generously, almost artistically: "You look so good." "Your sweater is beautiful." And yet, something in my body would tighten every time. Because I could feel — even as a child — that underneath the words there was a reaching, a quiet, polished need, not just the gift of a clean, truthful observation. "Please like me. Please choose me. Please don't leave me out."

The compliment wasn't a gift- it was a transaction, and so I learned early to be suspicious of sweetness.

When I moved to the United States, I had my first real cultural shock — and it was definitely not what I expected: people would receive compliments and simply say: "Thank you." with no deflection, no immediate return compliment and no awkward dance of minimizing or equalizing. Just: thank you.

It felt almost indecent to me at first. Like watching someone accept a gift and walk away without offering something back to restore balance.

So, of course, I didn't trust it.

But slowly — the way things shift slowly when they're actually shifting — something in me softened and I started an experiment: if someone gives me a compliment, I receive it, fully, cleanly, no hidden contract.

If I feel something genuine to say back, I say it. If I don't, I don't manufacture one. No performance. No obligation.

Just truth.

And then life gave me a few scenes to test what I had learned.

Scene One: The Elder

I met an 84-year-old German woman in Romania. There was something about her presence that struck me — a kind of quiet gravity. Not loud, not performative- just a person who has been through life, learned a few things and is embodying all the learning.

I said to her, sincerely: "It's so beautiful to be around an elder. We don't really have elders anymore."

She bristled.

Not dramatically. But unmistakably.

I walked away confused. A little stung.

Later, I understood what I hadn't seen in the moment: I hadn't just given her a compliment. I had placed her inside a role. Elder is not a neutral word. It carries weight. Identity. Finality, even.

To me, it was reverence. To her, it may have felt like being defined. Aged, maybe? Put somewhere she did not choose to stand.

The gift didn't fit.

Scene Two: The Mountain and the Man Who Channels

Some of you know about my trip to the mountains of Hunedoara — to Călătoria Inimii, the retreat that, among other things, gave me back my sleep after 27 years.

During that retreat, there was a man leading a part of the work. He spoke about downloading material from the ethers and teaching us what he learned. At one point, he said something like: "You are all elevating this material." I said, "Thank you." And I meant it.

Not because I needed his approval, or because I wanted to be the good student- but because I know how hard I have worked to stay alive. I know the swamps, the muddy waters, the parts of myself I had to walk through that felt, at times, demon-infested.

So yes — if I am in a room and contributing something real, I can receive that acknowledgment, cleanly, no false modesty, no shrinking, just: thank you.

After that session, I was invited into their highest level of training (long story, but no one gets in unless they are personally invited etc. etc.)

And here's what surprised me: I don't want to go.

Not because I doubt that something real is happening in that room. I actually think something real is. But I am no longer interested in sitting with one person holding the microphone to the divine. I've done that. I've sat at the feet of so many coaches, guides, channelers, etc. and I learned something from all of them, however, what I want now is different.

I want rooms where everyone is learning to listen to their own signal. Where the work is horizontal. Collective. Alive. Where the compliment isn't "you are the source" — but "we are all participating."

Here's what I'm learning in my old age ("elder" stage of life!): not all compliments are the same: some are offerings, some are strategies, some are projections, some are misfires.

And some are clean.

A clean compliment feels like this: no pressure to respond, no hidden ask, no subtle positioning. Just a moment of recognition, released into the space. And the other person is free to receive it — or not.

The practice, as I understand it now:

When I receive — I receive. When I don't feel it — I don't fake it. When I give — I check if it's actually true, and if it fits the person in front of me.

Not everyone wants to be called an elder. Not everyone wants to be elevated. Not everyone wants to be seen in the way I see them. And that's okay.

Because a real compliment isn't just about truth. It's about attunement. It's about asking: does this fit this person, right now?

I think of it the way I think about my patients. I can give them the right information at the wrong moment, in the wrong way, and it lands like nothing. Or worse — it lands wrong. The information wasn't the problem. The attunement was.

There is a version of kindness that is clean, not sticky, not strategic, not needy and I am learning to live there. It feels quiet. Spacious.

Like giving someone a gift and genuinely not watching what they do with it.

Like receiving something beautiful and not immediately calculating what you owe.

Just letting it be.

As always, I'm grateful you're here with me on this strange, beautiful, dizzying journey.

 With love, (a tiny sprinkle of) rage, and reverence,

Your disorganized, recovering people-pleaser, community-dreamer, hope-filled activist in the making, deep-sleeper, clean compliment giver and receiver,

Corina