A Letter On Kindness

A letter shared between friends is one of life's greatest blessings.

"Kindness is a language which the deaf can hear, and the blind can see."

― Mark Twain

Today has been long for me. I did a lot of running around to make sure everything was in order for the lockdown, and somehow along the way, I got weary of the duty. My job has been shut off to me as of yesterday, and the stress is building. I have plans to work around it. I have ways of still bring in money, but in truth, I think I need to breathe. I'm fighting not to let the despair bring my walls crumbling down because there is nothing, I can do to change the events outside my window.

                In these great times of uncertainty, there is only one thing we can do, and that is to make ourselves better than we were yesterday. You can't lay in bed all morning, wishing things were this way or that way because the pillows are for dreaming, dreams change nothing. But you have to get up, go for a walk, write the sorrow away, and, most of all, move. If you can't walk, then read, for isn't a book the greatest portal to somewhere else? I think it is for us all.

                I sat in bed this morning listening to jazz before the sun rose and smiled at the first rays of light breaking into my window. They were a welcome intruder begging me to get up, get to work being a person. I couldn't turn them down.

                I started to move.

                The song playing on this morning was 'It's Been A Long, Long Time' by Harry James and Helen Forrest. How could you not smile at the song? It is one of my favorite songs of all time, warm and safe. The tune is full of love, making me long for someone who isn't real yet.

I wrote a poem about it a while ago.

Note Three

Kiss me once -

And ask,

"Are we going to make,

It to the stars?"

Kiss me twice -

To rinse

                The Blues

                From my bones

As I hold the dream of

                You,

In the smoky Club,

With hints of smooth love.

Kiss me once again -

"To the stars?"

Ah, sorry my dear,

                To the grave.

               

                The poem is about to publish this month, I believe. I will let you know more when I learn more or when it is out. The funny thing about the poem is I didn't mean to get published. I wrote it for fun and sent off thinking nothing would come from it, but here we are with someone liking it. I don't know if I would call myself a poet, but if I did, it would be for my mother. She has always been a true poet at heart, more than I am. Maybe, one day I'll write a story about her.

                Speaking of stories, I should be working on my novels, but again, I need a break. I need to breathe. Tomorrow I have plans for a walk in the park with a friend and a day of writing. I think it will be a perfect day. I am already looking forward to it.

                I have to keep moving, making myself better.

                One of the ways I think we can all make ourselves better is to be kinder. Something you have pointed out to me in your last letter. People need to be kinder, and the odd thing about my faith is it teaches that only believers should be kinder to others. As a man of faith, I know it is our nature as people to be mean, ugly and horrible to each other. Doing wrong is far easier than doing the right thing. It is a truism of life and my faith teaches me I should do the harder thing. I should, as Frost said to take," the one less traveled by," and be all the better for it.

                But I haven't found a way to make people kinder, only myself. The sad truth of life is that it might not matter to anyone. All we have to do is look at the world, shutter at the fact, evil seems to be winning more often than good is triumphs in the battle. Another thing my faith teaches me about the human soul.

The world is a fallen place. There is nothing I can do to change it. It is doom like the flower in the summer wind waiting for winter to pluck it. There is nothing I can do to stop the chill of Jack Frost.

                I can, however, change the inner world of myself. I sat here and look all the evil of this place and say, "I will not add to it." Well, I will not mean to add to it. I'm sure I have done evil in my life, but that is a question I dare not ask others to elaborate on for my sake.

I can only be kinder to others. I can only do good within my world and hope it adds bit more goodness the battle. Even if I'm defeat by wicked actions, I can stand in front of the Lord and say," I did my best. I did what You asked of me."

                Now, I know you are not a believer in my faith, but I think you can see what I'm getting out here. I know the darkness of the world is hard to bear, rather if the evil is small or grand, but all you can do is be kinder. It may not change anyone's heart or do anything to make the day brighter, but you have known you did good.

                I have been thinking a lot about how selfish people are these days. Yes, I know people have always been this way, but I have not always been alive to see it. I watch people think only of themselves and not stopping to thinking about anyone else. They do not love your neighbor as yourself; they simply love themselves.

                Of course, most people would tell you the reason they are acting this way is because they have a family. They have to think of them first. They have to do for them over all else.

                Odd, huh? It says neighbor, not your brother, father or mother, even your children, but the person in the other house. I'm not saying die for the person. I mean, if you are dead, then you can't be kind at all expect to the worms. I'm merely saying think of them before you think of yourself. Be a little kinder but being kinder is the path less taken. We few get to walk it alone most of the time.

                Then again, I also see how people who believe they are kind would pull someone else world down to bring wealth and joy to others. A blind rage of kindness to show the world they are good ones. They get to stand on the bones of their enemy and say," See, I destroy them for you, oh low ones."

                Blinded by their needs to be the good one, they do not see the greater harm they've caused. I am saving your baby while killing an elderly person who does not share. Of course, if they asked the older person, they might have given their life for the baby, but we don't get to know. All we get to see is evil cloak goodness, and that is the greatest sin of all.

                You might be thinking I'm saying not to be kind. Not at all, I'm merely saying be cautious of the virtue you are using as a weapon in the battle of good and evil. I'm also saying you should not use a moral code base on yourself to bring changes to the world. After all, if we're in a fallen world and doing evil is far easier for us to carry out then good is, then we must be vigilant about our deeds, even if they are in the name of good.

                Ah, hell, I got a little preachy there, and I didn't mean too. You know all of this and we both agree we should be kinder. I'm sure the why or how doesn’t matters as long as we do it. I simply let myself ramble before I stopped the pen. I'm sorry for sounding like I was preaching to you. I didn't mean to come off that way.

                Outside of this philosophical quagmire about people, I have been thinking a lot about Robert Johnson, a blues player who sold his soul to the devil. There is a lot of reference to hoodoo (Voodoo) icons in his songs, making people believe he practice the arts. I'm not sure he did. I think he simply knew people of the time would get the reference in the song seeing the deeper meaning in them. Kind of like what Poe did in the Raven. In Irish mythology, Ravens are the harbingers of death, which more people back then knew then today. It is one of the reasons Van Gogh put Ravens in his paintings, Wheatfield with Crows. A lot of people think he was working on that painting when he shot himself, but he was not working on it. He was working on another picture.

                I started to wonder what icons we have in our zeitgeist today, but my mind wandered back to my pet crow at my old job. I missed the little guy. I named Frank Hopper, the 4^th, and I hope he is going well in all this madness.

                I need to go to bed before this gets any weirder.

With a tap of the hat,

Chase

Author's Note

If you had made it this far, then I appreciate it, and before you start to tear my work apart (which doesn’t bother me too much), let me explain something. The most common critique I see is about my spelling and grammar. It is an understandable critique, and I do not blame you for pointing it out. After all, spelling and grammar are the tools in which we use to craft our work, like a paintbrush or a chisel. The artist must know how to use these tools well, but like an artist who has a tremble in their hand's somethings will never be perfect.
My tremble in my hand is caused by my dyslexia. It is something, no matter how much I learn, study, or works on, it will never go away. It is the reason you will find a good bit of spelling and grammar mistakes in my work. I ask you to keep this fact when you are about to write your critique.
Also, I feel the need to point this out, this website is like a journal for me. A messy journal I used to work out problems in my stories or to simply warm up before digging into my novels. I do not hire an editor for the work here. I do not spend hours and days pouring over these stories to make them perfect, that energy is saved for the project I plan on taking to market. Everything on this website is my world-building exercise or sketches for other projects.
I do hope you enjoy my work, but this website is not a publishing house for me, and it shouldn’t be for you either. Something to keep in mind as you write your critique.