An exquisite piece of writing, Kirstie. Spare. Enquiring. Tender. Mercy that meets and holds those of whom you write and that consoles us, too, in our reading. Thank you.
these words come to mind as I sit with your piece, Kirstie, "the intimacy of kindness"... Jack's intimacy with the tree(s). the intimacy of people up close, to help and set him free. in those moments when we are most vulnerable and can only receive the help of strangers or friends, to save us, are moments of both great kindness and deep intimacy
as my friend says: "in-to-me-see". a reminder to stop, and see, and take a moment to look in, and on, each other
Thank you so much Toni. I always look forward to your comments, and so appreciate your thoughtful and perceptive engagement with the stories. Yes, we never want to be in that place of extreme vulnerability, and sometimes we are there.
Thanks for this very moving story about Jack, the faithful friend. Dear Kirstie, there's so much here. I love the way you have him deepening his relationship with trees, even as, or because, he's dying. That feels important. And that when people come and take trouble to help him, he sees their beauty. That feels profound. I wonder whether it's because in such a situation it's unconditional love that's given to the one in need. Whoever it is. The stranger on the side of the road, and the family and friends not seen but assumed, imagined. You, the beautiful one who stopped, put all your energy into the unconditional love those people needed right then. So that no one died alone. There's deep consolation in that. And is that because the love, the intense focus on the other person is a moment when our humanity is defined by its connectedness. No one alone at all.
An exquisite piece of writing, Kirstie. Spare. Enquiring. Tender. Mercy that meets and holds those of whom you write and that consoles us, too, in our reading. Thank you.
Thank you so much Claire. Gratitude in return 🙏🏽
Thank you for touching my heart. And reminding me that to give voice to our experience can name it for others.
Thank you Kerry-Ann, yes our stories matter. And thank you for commenting here, I know that takes courage, and I appreciate your words.
these words come to mind as I sit with your piece, Kirstie, "the intimacy of kindness"... Jack's intimacy with the tree(s). the intimacy of people up close, to help and set him free. in those moments when we are most vulnerable and can only receive the help of strangers or friends, to save us, are moments of both great kindness and deep intimacy
as my friend says: "in-to-me-see". a reminder to stop, and see, and take a moment to look in, and on, each other
thank you for writing
Thank you so much Toni. I always look forward to your comments, and so appreciate your thoughtful and perceptive engagement with the stories. Yes, we never want to be in that place of extreme vulnerability, and sometimes we are there.
Thanks for this very moving story about Jack, the faithful friend. Dear Kirstie, there's so much here. I love the way you have him deepening his relationship with trees, even as, or because, he's dying. That feels important. And that when people come and take trouble to help him, he sees their beauty. That feels profound. I wonder whether it's because in such a situation it's unconditional love that's given to the one in need. Whoever it is. The stranger on the side of the road, and the family and friends not seen but assumed, imagined. You, the beautiful one who stopped, put all your energy into the unconditional love those people needed right then. So that no one died alone. There's deep consolation in that. And is that because the love, the intense focus on the other person is a moment when our humanity is defined by its connectedness. No one alone at all.
Thank you Carolyn, yes, this is the heart of it. Thank you for reading and seeing it all, and letting me know. With gratitude.
I'm reminded of the care compassion and support of neighbors in times of trouble.
Thank you Kirstie
Thank you so much Isobel. Sending love.
Awesome
Thank you Neil ✨