Discussing: The Power of Kindness by Piero Ferrucci
Chapter 2: WARMTH - The Temperature of Happiness
"Everyday, countless people die or die a little bit for want of warmth; children left alone; underpaid and exploited workers; old people, lonely and forgotten by everyone in the anonymous world of big cities. And every day, thousands of people compensate for their chronic loveless state by all kinds of substitutes: filling themselves with food, pursuing loveless sex, seeking illusory happiness in the wonderlands of consumerism, or becoming violent." (p.28)
My mother's hands were always icy, but her aura exuded warmth. I know that is one reason why people loved her so much. The kindness in her eyes was the warmth overflowing from her soul, and people could see that. Like the author says, "Warmth then becomes a metaphor. It is no longer just a biological necessity, it is a quality we see in someone's eyes, hear in her voice, sense in the way she greets us. It is at the very heart of kindness." (p.31) That is something I miss from my mom, her very presence was warm and loving. If she were silent I could still feel her love for me.
The author relayed a story about when his grandfather died that I could totally relate to, "I was riding, for the first time in my life, in the car carrying the coffin. From it I could see how the outside world was responding to our passage. It was a clearly visible reaction. People stopped and let us pass, some took their hats off, some made the sign of the cross. It signified respect and recognition: Someone had died and others were in mourning. I felt comforted: Death was no longer a lonely event." (p.33) The author then tells us that 30 years later his mother died, same city, itinerary, and procedure, and no one even paused. "I felt I was in a colder, more distracted world." (p.34)
I had been telling John for years that when he sees a funeral procession he needs to stop, pull over, etc., he has never believed me or listened to me. After my mom's funeral, we drove to the cemetery, and John was shocked; all the cars in front of us were pulling over, and all the cars coming in the opposite direction stopped and pulled over. I still get goosebumps thinking about it today. They were showing their respect, and it felt good. I thought my mom deserved to have the whole world stop in that moment, not just my town, and seeing those motorists stop really did fill me with warmth.
Recently, a funeral procession came through an intersection I was stopped at already, and most people stopped, but when the light turned green someone honked, and another person went through, I honestly wanted to put my car in park, get out of the car and tell someone off. That wouldn't have been showing my "warmth," but it bugs me that people can't take a second of their lives to show a little respect. (I gave them the benefit of the doubt that maybe they weren't aware of the reason we were all stopped...)
This chapter had a lot of interested points and parallels, I'll leave you with just one more... "When we stroke a purring cat, who is giving and who is receiving warmth? Or, when we enjoy someone's company, who is warmed by the relationship? And when we hold a newborn baby, who gives and who receives the tenderness? If we give warmth, we do not end up feeling cold. The benefit is symmetrical. In giving our warmth - and so too our vital presence, our positive, nonjudgmental attitude, our heart - we can bring into the lives of those near to us vital, sometimes extraordinary, changes. And we, too, do not remain unchanged." (p.37)
That must be one reason why my mother was so extraordinary.
Chapter 2: WARMTH - The Temperature of Happiness
"Everyday, countless people die or die a little bit for want of warmth; children left alone; underpaid and exploited workers; old people, lonely and forgotten by everyone in the anonymous world of big cities. And every day, thousands of people compensate for their chronic loveless state by all kinds of substitutes: filling themselves with food, pursuing loveless sex, seeking illusory happiness in the wonderlands of consumerism, or becoming violent." (p.28)
My mother's hands were always icy, but her aura exuded warmth. I know that is one reason why people loved her so much. The kindness in her eyes was the warmth overflowing from her soul, and people could see that. Like the author says, "Warmth then becomes a metaphor. It is no longer just a biological necessity, it is a quality we see in someone's eyes, hear in her voice, sense in the way she greets us. It is at the very heart of kindness." (p.31) That is something I miss from my mom, her very presence was warm and loving. If she were silent I could still feel her love for me.
The author relayed a story about when his grandfather died that I could totally relate to, "I was riding, for the first time in my life, in the car carrying the coffin. From it I could see how the outside world was responding to our passage. It was a clearly visible reaction. People stopped and let us pass, some took their hats off, some made the sign of the cross. It signified respect and recognition: Someone had died and others were in mourning. I felt comforted: Death was no longer a lonely event." (p.33) The author then tells us that 30 years later his mother died, same city, itinerary, and procedure, and no one even paused. "I felt I was in a colder, more distracted world." (p.34)
I had been telling John for years that when he sees a funeral procession he needs to stop, pull over, etc., he has never believed me or listened to me. After my mom's funeral, we drove to the cemetery, and John was shocked; all the cars in front of us were pulling over, and all the cars coming in the opposite direction stopped and pulled over. I still get goosebumps thinking about it today. They were showing their respect, and it felt good. I thought my mom deserved to have the whole world stop in that moment, not just my town, and seeing those motorists stop really did fill me with warmth.
Recently, a funeral procession came through an intersection I was stopped at already, and most people stopped, but when the light turned green someone honked, and another person went through, I honestly wanted to put my car in park, get out of the car and tell someone off. That wouldn't have been showing my "warmth," but it bugs me that people can't take a second of their lives to show a little respect. (I gave them the benefit of the doubt that maybe they weren't aware of the reason we were all stopped...)
This chapter had a lot of interested points and parallels, I'll leave you with just one more... "When we stroke a purring cat, who is giving and who is receiving warmth? Or, when we enjoy someone's company, who is warmed by the relationship? And when we hold a newborn baby, who gives and who receives the tenderness? If we give warmth, we do not end up feeling cold. The benefit is symmetrical. In giving our warmth - and so too our vital presence, our positive, nonjudgmental attitude, our heart - we can bring into the lives of those near to us vital, sometimes extraordinary, changes. And we, too, do not remain unchanged." (p.37)
That must be one reason why my mother was so extraordinary.
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