Kindness

 Is there anything more important than being kind?

When I’m dead and gone (and, for that matter, while I still live), I want, above all, to be seen as a person who treated others kindly.  Sure, I’d like to considered a creative genius, a spiritual inspiration, and a brutally-handsome heartthrob, but compared to being kind, those don’t matter at all (even if they were real possibilities.)

I’m always dismayed by rich and powerful (or, for that matter, poor and weak) people who enjoy being heartless and cruel.  What’s the point being rich and powerful (or, for that matter, poor and weak) if it means you have to be mean?  I know Machiavelli said that it’s better to be feared than loved, but that’s just for princes in the 16th century, and even then, I’ll bet, the kind prince (or princess) slept better than the cruel one.

Singer-songwriter, Nick Lowe, made the musical point that you’ve got to be cruel to be kind but be that as it may (or may not), the goal is still kindness.  Perhaps I do have to be just a little bit harsh from time to time in my aspiration to be compassionate, but surely, that’s just in small doses, not like all Simon LeGree or anything.

I realize that the danger of valorizing kindness so highly is that, as a parent, or educator, or citizen, I may sometimes emphasize mercy over justice; or I may make compassionate exceptions that undermine the principle of fairness; or I may simply be taken advantage of by those who care less about kindness than I do.

But, so be it; and if it means that I’m something of a failure as a parent, educator, or citizen, then perhaps it’s an opportunity to practice kindness to myself and allow for those failings.

Better to be Jackie Robinson than Ty Cobb; Thich Hnat Hanh than Genghis Khan; Ferdinand than those other bulls; me, I hope, than Mitch McConnell.