The Power of Kindness: The Unexpected Benefits of Leading a Compassionate Life

Generosity is, by definition, disinterested.” (p.157)

it is clear that our very survival, even today, depends upon the acts and kindness of so many people.

To be in the present with someone else is a gift. The gift of attention is perhaps the most precious and envied of all, even though we do not always realize it.

Human relations are becoming colder. Communications are becoming more hurried and impersonal. Values such as profit and efficiency are taking on greater importance at the expense of human warmth and genuine presence.

The essence of memory is not in the storage of information, but in the emotions we hold, in the meaning we give to our recollections, in relationships that, because we remember them, stay alive. The friends of my childhood, the pain of a goodbye, the meeting with a special person, a wonderful September afternoon, and so forth—all these are not merely items I keep in an archive. They are vital ingredients of my history.

whether we are aware of it or not, every act of trust carries with it a shiver of fear.

Just as warmth brings to light our personalities and makes us feel special and indispensable, coldness can turn us into nameless shadows.

The fabric of our life is made of care, solidarity, mutual service. These qualities are so embedded in our daily events that we may not even notice them.

The heart follows a different kind of math: Acts of kindness and generosity increase our feeling of time affluence.

They are all people like us, you know.” There you have a sense of belonging that is refined, and above all free and active in any situation. Some spiritual traditions have recognized the importance of this openness. Christianity, for example, talks about seeing in every individual our brother or sister. Tibetan Buddhism invites us to carry out a curious mental exercise: to look at whomever we meet as someone who, in a previous life, of the infinite series of incarnations through which we have passed, has been our mother.

TO ACT HONESTLY—EVEN AT THE RISK OF SAYING THE unpleasant truth, or of saying no and causing distress to others—if done with intelligence and tact, is the kindest thing to do, because it respects our own integrity and acknowledges in others the capacity to be competent and mature.

Some time ago, my son Emilio was going back to school after vacation. He did not like the idea at all and was filled with anxiety. To him, the approach of school days was like a monster that threatened him and wanted to squash him. What is a parent supposed to do? I tried to lift his spirits, to distract him, convince him it was not as bad as it seemed, but in vain. Then I hit upon the idea of offering him something that is almost taboo in our family: French fries at a fast-food place. Usually anything that is prohibited appeals to Emilio, especially junk food. I thought I had the ace up my sleeve. But no. Emilio's reply ought to be chiseled in stone: "Dad, you don't solve problems with french fries." Touche. You don't pretend problems do not exist, and you can't solve them with ephemeral distractions. You have to face them with open-eyed honesty. Offering French fries to my son in order to console and distract him from his anxiety was by no means a kind act. I was simply choosing the easier option--far too easy. I had found a comfortable way out.

But when there is real warmth, no one is the same as everyone else, just as no two soups are alike. We are all unique. We are all loved for who we are, with our qualities and with our faults. We are loved because we are irredeemably ourselves. But when warmth decreases, we are all the same—all anonymous. Just as warmth brings to light our personalities and makes us feel special and indispensable, coldness can turn us into nameless shadows.

Young people use more aggressive words, senior citizens in that same area have more heart problems. The greater frequency of aggressive wording in a certain geographical area shows this social environment to be more charged with negativity, which causes problems to all—especially the aged.

After meeting you I felt relieved”: Who wouldn’t want to hear this kind of comment? When we receive it, it’s because we have been harmless, and our innate capacity to comfort other people, maybe heal their wounds, found no obstacle on its way. Every human being potentially has this capacity. Just our presence, if we do not judge, if we do not give advice and do not invade, can in all likelihood be beneficial for anyone who is suffering.

But a lesser evil is still an evil. Therefore one commits an evil act, and evil, besides staining those who commit it, generates further evil. Hannah Arendt has shown how the principle of the lesser evil, for example, a temporary collaboration with a wicked regime, has ended up allowing atrocities and terror of all kinds. According to her, acceptance of a lesser evil is a dangerous compromise that slides into acceptance of all evil.