Kindness is a sort of bravery in of itself, isn’t it? Daring to put yourself out there, to engage in the very vulnerable and human act of the intimacy in being known and knowing another, in bridging the gap in connection between people and not letting worries of rejection hold you back from being tender with the people that you care for, and even perfect strangers who your heart empathizes with for whatever tiny act it was that drew your eye- the child lost in a crowd and searching people’s faces in vain hopes of recognition, the woman kneeling in front of a gravestone and arranging flowers that seem inordinately alive juxtaposed against all that encompassing death, the man bowed underneath the weight of grief in the corner of the bar. I think it is far more important to be kind than brave. Gestures of bravado and reckless daring are empty, if they’re enacted in cruelty or callousness- the world will always be in turmoil, there will always be conflicts void of resolution, fights and skirmishes and harsh circumstances that demand recklessness and a lack of regard for the consequences- being brave doesn’t mean being not afraid, it means being afraid and doing it anyways. But because of its harshness, and the cruel reality of life- that sometimes things don’t go the way that we want them to, that it’s horrendously unfair- kindness will always have paramount value. There is always something human in being kind for the sake of being kind, and gentleness is so rarely rewarded or even acknowledged: and it takes a certain strength of character to see the world and its inhabitants in all of its flaws and failings, and dare to love it anyways: to remember that at the end of the day, we are human, and that’s a terrible, awfully mixed up thing to be, but it gives us immense capacity to do both harm and love: and why not choose the loving? Why not choose to be kind when so often the world is cruel? It’s a terrible burden to bear, the inexplicable whirlwind of life and circumstance, but I feel it’s an obligation on everyone’s part to do their best to make it that much more bearable, even if tiny kindnesses melt away forgotten in the doldrums of time: it isn’t about the recognition, it isn’t about the glory or fame or accolades: it’s being unbearably human, and remembering that we were all made to love and be loved. In spite of all the pain of existence, there is untold beauty- you only have to open your heart to it, and bear the trembling unknown.And of course I like to read. It’s probably one of my very most favourite things to do. :-)
