Stories of Kindness from Around the World

I think my mom raised me to be considerate. Growing up in a rather well-off family, where in a material sense I was wanting for nothing, kindness wasn't something I especially noted. I might have taken it for granted.

As a teenager, to cope with some emotional challenges in my family, I taught myself to be a perfectionist, and developed a rather negative attitude towards myself. I always saw what was lacking in myself, or what I imagined to be lacking, in others, and in my life. You might gather it was difficult being this way. I lived this way well into my 30s. 

Due to health problems, I left college without a degree, tried for an apprenticeship, fell ill again and left my employer.  After sick pay ran out, I ended up drawing something closer to welfare than unemployment benefits, though it was technically the latter.

The family lore was ringing in my ears as I filled out the forms and waited in line at the employment agency.  A lot of my family members had been successful or even famous. And me? Black sheep, hadn't made it, having to draw welfare. I felt pretty low.

As I left the building, I felt humiliated, and I didn't have the energy to fight the feeling. So instead, I just surrendered to it, feeling extremely vulnerable. And then, something magical happened. Riding the bus, I suddenly felt deep kindness and compassion for everybody on board radiating from or through my heart. I felt connected, I wasn't separate from the normal people (no offense meant, it's just that at home it was always about being special and outstanding). It was as though my illness had pulled me out of orbit to connect with normal, everyday life down on earth again.

Having officially joined those who, in a performance society, are thought and often think of themselves as populating the lowest rungs of the ladder, I started to deeply appreciate kindness. On that bus ride home, I was touched by every tiny act of kindness I witnessed: Some people smiling at each other; someone lending a hand to a woman with kids.  I was moved to tears.

This happened six years ago, and my financial situation hasn't really improved. In fact, because I am paying back some debts, I have even less money now. Over long stretches, my heart would close up again, especially whenever I'd try real hard to be normal and function like everybody else again (it always threw me back). But I've learned so many important lessons, I don't really mind anymore.

Now I'm not saying that being poor – which by the official definition, I am – is a good thing in itself, or for building character. It sometimes may be, but only if you're not totally without perspective. However, it's certainly taught me to be more appreciative: Of the food I can buy, the housing I can afford, the social security system, the support and appreciation of my family and friends, and the many, many acts of kindness which sustain me.

Kindness is more than that which makes life easier when you're down. It's a great power and wealth - and doesn't depend on the stock market!