Here’s the first of what I intend to be a regular, weekly post, and will do my best to stick to that… see what you think.
Now first, I should probably admit that I often say that all good stories start with
Once upon a time…
and end with
And they lived happily ever after
when clearly that is not always true, and I wasn’t paying nearly enough attention to Hans Christian Anderson’s Fairy tales when I was a child. However, let’s see if I can spin you a Sunday yarn around that idea. I’ve no idea how this is going to work out, so bear with me.
Here we go…
Once upon a time, there was a man, so brimming over with self-assurance that he believed he could take on the very world, make it better in his own image – which some would say is a frightening thought, however, we choose not to make disparaging comments about anyone’s appearance.
Though not a good man, he was a successful one, excelling at manipulative language that could convince anyone of anything, whispering doubts into his subjects’ minds until they were hanging off his every word.
In a world teetering on the edge of fear and uncertainty, this was an easier task than it should have been, and the man seized on that opportunity, citing the differences of people and turning them into problems, taking individual incidents as the work of a larger group, until that group became feared by all.
History had shown the man the ramifications of doing such things, but he was determined, twisting like a viper in the grass to get his point across, challenging the very laws that were established to give people rights, and freedom, and belittling it all.
The people watched, and the people listened, and those who shared similar opinions to this man believed that this was their moment to thrive, to demonstrate their own importance above all other people, to put the world right again, according to what they wanted it to be.
In pockets, small groups of people scattered across this world, who embraced differences, accepted and celebrated them and believed that everyone should be free to live and love, however they chose, so long as they didn’t do so at the detriment of others, something stirred. This stirring became a stretch, and that stretch turned into a yawn, and soon that something was awake, alert to what was happening around it and ready to challenge whatever threatened its existence.
That something was kindness.
Soon, those pockets, those small groups of people came together to do good things for other people, to support those who had been persecuted and free them of the labels with which the world had tarnished them. Out of this, kindness grew, and fed, and became beautiful, and strong.
The man, who it is very possible had never met with kindness in his entire life, found his voice and views quietened. Not snuffed out, because that is not what kindness is about, but dampened down, to be just one voice amongst many, one whose unpleasantness was drowned out by the principle of being kind, which was louder, brighter, and more powerful than any hatred could ever hope to be.
Kindness won out. Equality was restored, strengthened by the awareness that we are stronger for our differences, not weakened by them.
And they all lived happily ever after…