OldSoul.blog

During this summer break, I have been more spectator than activist, more observer than doer. And there’s been much to observe: the inauguration and subsequent actions of Donald Trump; the horror of war in Gaza, Ukraine, Sudan, Congo and elsewhere; the rise of antisemitism in Australia and beyond; the devastation caused by natural disasters around the world; the tenuous truce between Israel and Hamas; the increasing incidence of domestic and other violence; the defacing of the Police Memorial in Kings Domain; etc., etc.. I spent a day at the Australian Open Tennis and was puzzled by the heckling of Danielle Collins, the booing of Novak Djokovic, and a tennis crowd that was generally more boisterous than usual. I walked through the city on my way to a medical appointment and, in addition to being surprised by the number of people sleeping rough, I was taken aback by the level of anger amongst the crowd of seemingly ‘ordinary’ people: heated arguments between people walking together, someone erupting because the lights changed, another because a young woman stepped in front of them, and others venting their frustration at the world in general. I couldn’t help but feel that something is amiss in Australian society right now.

Because writing seems to help me make sense of my own cogitations, I started writing about an ‘alarming shift in Australian culture’. Words like selfishness, greed, anger and jealousy featured strongly. I was all set to bemoan the hapless state of the nation, and of the world in general, when I had an epiphany: just as my dark diatribe was gaining momentum, I was unexpectedly rescued from my despondency by a three-year-old!

My grandson, Cooper, started kinder this year, a big step for a child who had not taken at all kindly to his brief flirtation with childcare twelve months ago. But he overcame his hesitations and went through the door with a smile and a determination to ‘make new friends’. At the end of the first day, a young woman approached Cooper’s mum to express her appreciation: Cooper, noticing that her daughter was anxious and upset about her mother leaving, had come over to say, ‘Don’t be sad. You can be my friend. Come and play with me.’ Wow! This empathy, kindness and wisdom from a three-year-old! And I suddenly realised that the world is best defined not by the trauma and conflict that makes the news, but by the kindness and compassion that such events evoke.

I didn’t have to look hard to find stories of care and compassion, of generosity and sacrifice, of kindness and love underlying or emerging out of all those ‘dark’ happenings above. Australian doctors like Scarlett Wong volunteering to serve in Gaza; firefighters giving up their family Christmas to save people and properties in the Grampians National Park; neighbours rallying to care for a family after a house fire; volunteers in centres right across Melbourne serving Christmas lunch to people in need; a brave preacher exhorting Donald Trump to exercise kindness, justice and mercy; the people who smile and wish me a good morning as I walk my dog each day; the Facebook friends who support diverse charities and causes because they care enough to take action; etc., etc..

Rather than become disillusioned and cynical about the world and its direction because of the ever-present trauma, tragedy and injustice with which we are bombarded, my three-year-old grandson invites me to look deeper and notice the kindness, compassion and generosity that is also ever-present. This is not to deny the ‘dark side’ of the human condition, or to diminish the impact of injustice or trauma, but it is to affirm that alongside those dark experiences is the light and hope, the inherent kindness and compassion, that is embedded in human nature. It’s an invitation to not be overwhelmed by the darkness, but to notice and affirm the concomitant light. Is this not the core message of the gospel, of the teaching of Jesus? It is captured in these words by the writer of the Fourth Gospel:

 In (the Logos) there was life, and that life was the light of all people. The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has never overpowered it.  [John 1:4,5 (NCV)]

Further, if I am able to discern the presence of light in even the most dire of circumstances, I will be motivated and empowered to address the injustice, to heal the hurt, to calm the storm that is stirred by the forces of darkness. Rather than throw up my hands in despair, I will affirm the presence of light and steadfastly pursue the life-giving practice of kindness, compassion and mercy.

I accept that it’s not easy to attend to the light, to pursue life-giving practices, when darkness seems so prevalent, but at least I hold out that intention, that yearning, and I try to reinforce that choice by being intentional about the voices to whom I listen, the books I choose to read, and the process theologians to whom I subscribe.

As I reflected on this in light of the epiphany occasioned by my grandson, three words emerged – not by chance, of course, because they are all themes that have been explored by the blogs, books and ponderings of my favourite authors – and I sense that these words will be my ‘words’ for this year, themes that I will play with, contemplate and perhaps write about as I seek to be life-giving in my spheres of activity and interest.

Gratitude: the practice of gratitude elicits deep contentment and facilitates my awareness of the incursion of light in my world. As David Steindl-Rast famously said: We think people are grateful because they are happy. But look closely and you will find that people are happy because they are grateful.

Curiosity: the practice of curiosity is the antidote to a world where strident, opinionated voices appear to offer certainty and security. Instead of the dualistic world of us and them, in and out, ‘I’m right and you’re wrong’, curiosity engenders a world of gentle acceptance, of diversity and inclusion. As Brené Brown has expressed it: Choosing to be curious is choosing to be vulnerable because it requires us to surrender to uncertainty. It wasn’t always a choice; we were born curious. But over time, we learn that curiosity, like vulnerability, can lead to hurt. As a result, we turn to self-protecting—choosing certainty over curiosity, armor over vulnerability, and knowing over learning. [Rising Strong: The Reckoning. The Rumble. The Revolution.]

Kindness: cultivating gratitude and curiosity creates the space for kindness. As I have suggested in a previous blog (Be Kind), the practice of kindness makes us feel better about ourselves, bringing inner contentment and increased self-esteem, and helps build respect for others. Being kind to another person inevitably creates a bond of mutual trust and respect.  A relationship is built that transcends differences. Even just one act of kindness promotes harmony in the world, modelling peace in place of conflict, love in place of hatred, hope in place of fear, and generosity in place of mistrust. The practice of kindness is a radical force for the transformation of our world and it is within our power, it is something every one of us can do.

As those who read my blogs will be aware, I draw much inspiration from the music and writings of Nick Cave. In a recent edition of the Red Hand Files he said this:

We all have a job to do, and it is urgent business. We must make this world as bearable as we can. I believe, with no small amount of awe, that we have tremendous potential to achieve just that. I marvel at our collective and individual ingenuity. We are broken, yet – wow, o wow – look what we can do! We can be good to one another! We can love one another! We can be kind! [Red Hand Files #311, January 2025]

In her hauntingly poignant song, Narrow Daylight (listen HERE), Diana Krall asks the question, Is the kindness we count upon hidden in everyone? For the sake of the world, it is important that we answer that question with a resounding ‘Yes!’ and then live and act out of that conviction. In the end, only kindness matters.

David Brooker (12^th February, 2025)