On Kindness

For now and always, it will be the purpose of man’s life to make more of himself. Not only in a real sense, but in a secondary, more illusory sense. Yes, it is man’s purpose to reproduce. And of course, he is an organism that must necessarily reproduce. But also, he must become more. He must make unto himself, more. Man must not be, but become. He is never in a stasis, but in a movement. That goes for both him as species and him as individual, as the corporative spirit that dwells in the minds of us all, and in those minds themselves. It can only be that the spirit moves if the body moves it and, vice versa. We are the body that houses the human spirit, the grand idea upon which we predicate the many things that we suppose qualify itself, humanity.

For every thing in movement, there must be an actuation. To sound less pretentious, all movements must have a mover. For man to move forward his spirit must move forward, and for this, his body must be first be moved. That is, to move humanity, we must move ourselves, from individual to individual. We cannot hope that mankind becomes a thing we wish without enabling the whole of his bodily parts, that is, us, each and every one of us, towards that same end. We cannot hope that man thrives without hoping our neighbor thrives. We cannot hope that man finds his milk and honey without first wishing that the poor family of our neighborhood finds the very same. This is, of course, bearing in mind the necessary exceptions, the heinous of society. But even then, we cannot hope that man improves without hoping the weakest among him does so as well. The body of mankind is a great chain, strongest, perhaps, only at it’s weakest. If despite providing technological advances to some measly percent of himself while allowing the rest of his person to languish in destitution, has man really enabled his whole self any further? I’d say not.

But being that man is becoming, and being that he is his spirit and body, and that we are that body, the onus, as said, is on us to enable his spirit’s progression. But what is the matrix of this enablement? I’ve said “hope” in the respect of hoping for a good, but hope means little. A man may hope his whole life for the world to change, and die hoping without having enacted anything towards his hope. The matrix is not hope in itself, but hope that spurs an action, kindness. Behind every act of kindness is the hope of betterment, that the opening of the mind unto another will not only reveal that mind’s beauty, but that the person to whom kindness is shown unto is deserving of that beauty. There, too, is the belief that that person shown kindness deserves that kindness. That they are a person like us, with emotions and thoughts and feelings and considerations all their own. Yet in kindness we see a failure in them, a small flicker in their flame, that we hope our kindness can reignite. We hope they can become. We hope we can move them, that through our ignition of their flame we may allow it to kindle anew, and that they may be moved to a place of brightness where once existed darkness.

There is no higher virtue than kindness, no greater thing a man can do for another than to open his mind to him and make for him the beginnings of a revealed beauty that may dwell as unconsumed tinder igniting the soul.  I should say then that there is no greater evil than unkindness, for to allow the soul to be dim is to allow a weakness in the human body and, thus, in the greater human spirit. To be unkind is to forgo one’s humanity.