To the boy who sits in front of the room.
Wears cargo shorts, a t-shirt with a television reference, and converse every week.
You might think I say that maliciously, but that is not my tone.
It’s what makes him, him.
Identifiable.
Usually I view repetition as boring, draining of the suspense and excitement of life.
But as a form of character, the reliability that comes with recurrence is quite comforting.
We know what to expect from these people.
Their normalcy balances our disorder.
The stable people do not allow life’s longest battles to make them weary. To rid them of their passion and enthusiasm.
The stable do not let those that are hateful feed spoonfuls of lies and plant doubts in their mind. Will not let the vile lock their hearts with a fear of love.
When you smile, the stable smile back because they are not paranoid by your unforeseen humanity.
When you meet their eyes, you find not a drop of compassion has abandoned them.
They have not changed because they have not let the darkness, which comes with every misfortune of life, consume them.
They have not only surrendered to but embraced the light.
The stable force themselves to advance past their setbacks and see only positivity, even if they have to build it using nothing but hope. Hope that may be destructive or useless or disappointing.
They do not look for better because they already have everything.
They have no desire to desire and that is what sets the stable free of the imprisonments we confine ourselves in.
Morning, noon, and night, peace lives in their heart and in their mind, controlling their composure.
Content with their present self.
We on the other hand, are never satisfied with our current lifestyle.
Always searching for what will make our existence meaningful.
If someone were to declare their love for us, that would be a whole new level of validation.
If we were accepted into an elite society.
If we finally got the promotion at work we’ve been waiting for.
If we had a beautiful home with a fitting child prodigy.
We tell ourselves if this was true, we could claim self-worth.
Because if we were truly insignificant, then what value could those who claim to love us actually see?
Who would choose us over anyone else?
Why would we get promoted unless we were worthy of the position?
We wouldn’t own a beautiful home, be married to a person that saw prominence in us, or have a remarkable child, if we had no worth.
Validation.
That’s all we want.
But, what happens when our daydreams become reality?
Will we be fulfilled or will we keep searching for more?
This is why we change.
Why we become a different person tomorrow then we are today.
In the search for validation, we “adjust” ourselves to please others.
The changes you make could be as simple as curling your hair because you know he prefers it that way.
Or maybe the changes could be as complex as going against your beliefs in order to impress your boss.
Either way, these changes or adjustments we make to ourselves have a lasting effect.
Our individuality becomes lost in the creation of those we want to be seen by.
Some say change is inevitable and even beneficial.
But when will I be pleased with the life I currently live instead of the daydream that takes place twenty-years into the future?
When will I stop seeking change?
You see, I crave consistency and contentment with the presence of my faults and flaws, my resilience and fortitude.
Jealousy runs laps through my mind causing nausea as I think about the curly-haired boy wearing cargo shorts.
His predictability should never be taken for granted.
The repetition of kindness is needed in a world that changes in the blink of an eye.
Look down at your phone as you’re walking.
Check the time on your wristwatch.
Tilt your shoe up to see if you’ve stepped in gum again.
Casually walk slower as you secretly ease drop on a conversation.
You may have only been gone for a few seconds, but in that time, you might’ve missed it.
The man who ran after a young lady that dropped her wallet carrying four hundred dollars. Twelve blocks later and every cent untouched.
The young girl who let her friends walk ahead because she wanted to help an old man clean up after his dog.
The teenage boy who gave all his money to a homeless man living under a bridge.
Money he was planning to use on his prom ticket.
There is kindness radiating from all directions and spreading throughout the oxygen we breathe.
Mostly it’s these random acts that are overlooked.
Never fully appreciated because they’re more subtle than those which are frequent and repetitive.
Like the boy who is identifiable, patterns share his quality.
We may not recognize initial acts of kindness. We may even be skeptical because of what we call “true intentions”.
By the third or fourth good deed, we see it.
We attach those sequential acts to character.
The once random behavior of a stranger becomes an expected mannerism.
The ones who are eternally kind do not get missed.
They are unforgettable.
You’ll always remember the smile they brought to your face.
The relief they gave you after a less than stellar day.
When you speak of them, the first words your brain will land on is charming, sympathetic, friendly, helpful, or maybe neighborly.
If the public lived by literature, we would need more of these characters.
People who have an exceptional perspective on thoughtfulness.
Even if it brings them no benefit.
Even if they personally loose something in the process.
They do not see it as draining themselves.
Giving and giving until they find themselves empty.
No. They do not see it this way.
Through their eyes, we hold an infinite amount of love within us.
Others are concerned if they release their love, they won’t have any left for themselves.
These characters are saying it is impossible to let out every drop of your compassion until you’re left bone dry.
On the streets, all we recognize are strangers with masks that hide everything about their identity.
We don’t know the details or even a summary of their past, present, or fantasies of the future.
We don’t know if they’ve been consumed by darkness or embraced by light.
That is why people who carry the repetition of kindness emit as much light as they can offer.
It’s called their love-light.
Give with no intent to receive.
Look up and around.
Search for kindness in strangers instead of the next best thing in hopes for validation.
Just live.
Live modestly and humbly.
And live now.
To the curly-haired boy who sits in the front of the classroom every week:
Thank you for offering to buy me candy from the vending-machine after seeing it reject my dollar. But, more than that, thank you for being consistently kind.
