- "Practice kindness all day to everybody and you will realize you’re already in heaven now," novelist and poet Jack Kerouac said. ( Taxing cruel recalibration, but thoughtful restructures are considered acts of kindness … in certain executive manoeuvres)
- Even though they often enhance happiness, acts of kindness such as giving a friend a ride or bringing food for a sick family member can be somewhat rare because people underestimate how good these actions make recipients feel, according to new research.
In his samizdat existential stories Vaclav Havel used to quote Absurdist Philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer who suggested that every problem (or truth) passes through three stages on the way to acceptance: “All truth passes through three stages. First, it is ridiculed. Second, it is violently opposed. Third, it is accepted as being self-evident.”
"It turns out generosity can actually be contagious," Kumar said. "Receivers of a prosocial act can pay it forward. Kindness can actually spread."
For more details about this research, read the McCombs Big Ideas feature story ( Medium) (https://medium.com/texas-mccombs/a-little-good-goes-farther-than-you-think-350fca703b18) and watch the video (https://youtu.be/dNq_jcLlzI4) explaining Kumar's work
Random acts of kindness make a bigger splash than expected
Losing a sibling, but choosing to be present and brave for the end
This week’s staggering Modern Love essay, “A Last Act of Intimate Kindness,” reminded me of a powerful Tiny Love Story we published years ago, “What We Do in the End”:
What We Do in the End
“Your sister is in the hospital,” my mother said over the phone. “You need to come home.” I had no idea that Jenny, a 44-year-old suburban mother, would be dead from prescription opioids just six days later. Although blindsided by her fatal addiction, I was grateful for those final days in the hospital: feeding my sister, shuffling her to the bathroom, singing show tunes (her eyes always closed) and telling her I loved her. That’s what we do in the end: the messy, tender, heartbreaking things. We are our best selves, even if it’s too late. — Kelly O’Connor
Today’s Modern Love essay echoes that last line: “We are our best selves, even if it’s too late.” When Michelle Friedman learned that her estranged brother was dying, she decided to face old wounds and regrets, and be there for her brother in his final hours.
Her essay is devastating but, in many ways, inspiring. You can read it below.
A Last Act of Intimate Kindness
I had barely seen my brother in decades, but when time was short, he let me in.
The message I had dreaded for years appeared on my phone: Looking to find the sister of my patient, Jay Friedman.
My ensuing phone conversation with the doctor brought ominous news. My 65-year-old brother, Jay, had advanced pancreatic cancer. He and I grew up together in Divine Corners, N.Y., a hamlet in the Catskills, raised by secular Holocaust survivor parents who stumbled into raising chickens. Their histories, coupled with the isolation and poverty of the farm, rendered my father brutal, especially to his only son.
I am the only family member with whom Jay maintained contact for the last three decades. Over that time, we communicated exclusively through email and cards I sent to a post office box. Despite working a quarter century in I.T. for the local school system, my brother did not own a cellphone. His doctor found my number via Google.
Jay was admitted to a fancy Seattle hospital where I called him via the landline next to his bed. His voice sounded weak, plaintive.
Jay, Ill come, I said. Let me be with you.
I dont know, he said. My house is a mess.
I can stay in a hotel.
Ill let you know.
I panicked. I knew the prognosis was dire, but my brothers lonely life cast an even darker shadow.
The hospital discharged Jay with a bag hanging from his chest to drain bile from his tumor-blocked liver. A few days later the doctor called again. Jay wanted my help.
I caught a flight to Seattle, picked up a rental car and drove around Puget Sound to a town in Kitsap County. Before entering Jays house, I muttered an ad hoc prayer for strength. Following the sounds of his weak voice through the maze of papers, boxes and computer parts, I found my brother lying on the couch. The disease had consumed him, leaving his body whittled, skeletal. Only Jays voice sounded familiar, a gravelly baritone.
If anybody had a case not to be kind, it was the biblical character Joseph. His brothers treated him like dirt and sold him into slavery. This action by his brothers resulted in practically everything going wrong in his life for the next 30 years.
What happened next? He was falsely accused of commiting adultery and thrown in prison. But later, as you recall, Joseph’s fortune reversed and he became second in command over all Egypt. Then came the day that Joseph’s father, Jacob, had died and his brothers knelt before him. To be sure, these brothers were fearful, and they had every reason to be. But Joseph, rather than being vindictive, spoke kindly to them. The scripture says, “In this way he reassured them, speaking kindly to them.” (Genesis 50:21).
IF TIK TOK'S 'INSTA-SAMARITAN' IS CLICKBAIT, THEN WHAT IS TRUE KINDNESS?
Lady Gaga gave a moving speech for her Born This Way Foundation, stating: "Kindness is not an afterthought to our work. It is the driving power for everything we do. It is the lens we view every challenge through. To me, almost every problem you can think of can be solved with kindness."
21st CENTURY HEADLINES: I Regret Being A Kind Slut
I know regretting most of my sexual encounters is not something a sex-positive feminist who used to write a column for Playboy is supposed to admit. And for years, I didn’t. Let me be clear, being a “slut” and sleeping with a lot of men is not the only behavior I regret. Even more damaging was what I told myself in order to justify the fact that I was disposable to these men: I told myself I didn’t care.
I didn’t care when a man ghosted me. I didn’t care when he left in the middle of the night or hinted that he wanted me to leave. The walks of shame. The blackouts. The anxiety.
The lie I told myself for decades was: I’m not in pain—I’m empowered.
I also won’t pretend to understand why in the middle of the night some of the deep and stirring quotes and manifestos came to me. Why do I oppose communism and fascism? Because they will eventually come for you. That’s why. The loser like me is strong because he has nothing left to lose. People who are life’s winners, apparently, are weak because they have so much they want to hang on to. The upwardly mobile are particularly afraid. We are afraid of losing what we have attained, because it is not secure. neither morally nor financially. There are events in seemingly far away places that have significance way beyond their immediate implications. Every story starts with water ... and the Morava River keeps our Cold War past alive. Lives are like rivers. Eventually they go where they must, not where we want them to. It is said that before entering the sea a river trembles with fear. . . But there is no other way. The river can not go back.