The Price of Being Kind.

@postaday 241; #postaday2011.

It wouldn’t be fair to say that being kind costs us nothing. It does cost us, especially if we were one of those selfless souls who rescues the homeless, lets an acquaintance sleep on the sofa till they get back on their feet, or a person who lends someone $20 until payday.

To those generous souls, I say mahalo.

This is one of those days when it’s very hard to write my blog entry. What’s a few hundred words, right? Get it out and be done with it! But some days the words don’t come easy. Part of it is being preoccupied with the strains of life and work. Part of it is losing a grip on elements of joy. Part of it is trying to be optimistic about the future.

Tuesday's Moon.

Last night I looked up at the moon, which was amazingly bright for a crescent. I thought about how cold and lifeless it must be up there, and yet, it mesmerizes people on earth.

So I wrote a haiku, like I often do:

A moon is nothing.
Yet it holds our gaze captive.
Are you nothing, too?


Is it possible to be cold, dull and lifeless, yet mesmerizing — as a person? Do we all know people who are cold, dull, and lifeless, yet we cannot stop thinking about them, we like to see them, we imagine that there is something much more interesting beneath the surface of jaded boredom?

Given all that, is it possible that someone could look at you or me and instead of not thinking anything at all, think that this could very well be more than just a mound of flesh, a personality, someone with values and love to share? I don’t always think that. But when I do encounter people who give me pause because of their circumstances, I always think about how they were a baby so many years ago, loved and cared for. When we are young, there is so much hope. When we grow old, we should resist hopelessness. When we are capable, we should tend to our soul’s garden with kindness, compassion and generosity. Imagine the harvest.