Kindness is gold.
When you say you want a partner who is kind, many people immediately think you mean a person who will give you gifts, create opportunities or offer you a leg up on the ladder of success. While all that may be good, that isn’t what we mean by kindness.
Because kindness is not the same thing as generosity.
Kindness isn’t about things. It’s more about thoughts.
Kindness will make you a cup of tea before you’re awake. Or reverse your car out of the garage because you are prone to attracting palm trees and pillars. Kindness will forfeit sleep to listen to you muddle through a problem that is keeping you awake, not because there is a reward at the end of it, but because its important to you. Kindness carries your problem as if it is not yours alone.
Kindness remembers to burn your favourite essential oil in your room on the day you come back from a trip. So that you come home to the smell of home.
Kindness will run you a bubble bath and rub your feet, even if you are not pregnant.
Kindness is not the same as sympathy.
It is much more alike to empathy.
Kindness will never put you in a position to be humiliated or embarrassed. Kindness will protect you and advocate on your behalf. Kindness wont play games to leave you bewildered and unsure. Kindness makes it clear who you are in a person’s life, and never leaves you wondering. It behaves consistently with what it says. Kindness gives you a place at the table and never lets anyone threaten that place.
Kindness is a quality that recognises the preciousness of others alongside the preciousness of self. It is an input that negates the usual transactional exchange of value and seeks the good of another for its own sake.
Kindness is thoughtful and tender.
Kindness in fact, is true friendship.
If your partner is a your friend, then you my dear, have gold.
Some of us are singers and some of us are strategists.
Some, like Martin Luther King Jnr, write speeches that will set your soul on fire; while others walk and wield a gun to win your freedom.
It is not the same man who pays the bill for the meals of the activists as the one who braves the gunfire to take on combat. One man marches ahead with his machete and clears a path for the soldier behind him. Another takes photographs, captures the story and broadcasts it far and wide to evoke global support for a movement. One main paints a placard, another watches over the children of those who work.
Some of us a singers.
Some of us are strategists.
The one who sings may so invoke the feelings of a nation that transformation is made not just possible, but even inevitable, in large part through his song. A song to motivate or fortify. His words give courage in the face of fear or uncertainty.
The one who builds a strategy may do so over weeks and months and years of planning. Observing, adjusting and redrawing his plans once more. And again. And then again. His effort is no less valuable than that of the man who swings the sickle in the bush.
Perhaps my part is not your part.
Perhaps I am a singer.
Perhaps you are a strategist.
I write to lend you my courage, to help you find the words for the things that frighten you; the things you feel, but are not yet ready to say. I write, to tell the stories of our time and to edify those whose stories I tell and their audiences.