Bookmark #882

To be a little bit kind is all I want to do in this life. A little bit kinder than I was yesterday, and if I find in me the boiling and broiling of unsuited emotion, to be patient enough to stay my tongue. And why am I thinking of kindness at the banal time of thirty minutes past noon? Because it occurred to me how people have been kind to me innumerable times before and that this life would not be half of what it is if someone was not patient with me when it counted, if they did not lend a hand when they could, if they did not stop their words from shredding me entirely. We are at the behest of the kindness of others, and so, we owe the world our hearts not because it is the right thing to do but only so we do not break the chain. That is all this is, a long chain of events, of favours pushed forward for millennia until it somehow reaches someone today—like us. Kindness is then a moral responsibility for no reason besides that it is a story bigger, much bigger than we will ever be. There is nothing else to it. We ought to be kind because others have been kind before, and if not to us directly, we must hold the fort still. Who knows what a little detour to help a person might lead to? Doesn’t it make you a little bit curious? Doesn’t it spark a little joy?

For all my wishes for all things in the world, I wish for patience the most, and I would be lying if I said it has not been granted to me. Granted, the methods were not favourable. They were, dare I say, heartbreaking and extreme. Milder attempts could have achieved the same results, and if not precisely the same ones, then similar still. Regardless, not to dwell on it now, I feel I have still gotten the long end of the stick when it comes to blessings and curses. Things do tend to get worse for a lot of people, and I wish, with all my heart, that I do not, on accident, even in error, make them worse for them. Of all the terrible things there are, owning the hands that accidentally break a resolve, a belief, or a heart is the most terrible of all.