Kindness in a World of Strife
On gratitude, beauty, and keeping faith with humanity—even as darkness gathers
A Good Man Lies in State
As I write, thousands are filing past the remains of Pope Francis in Rome. He was a good man. President Higgins of Ireland paid his respects and spoke warmly of him. In a world thick with toxicity and betrayal, it does us good—perhaps even helps keep us sane—to notice where goodness, beauty, truth, and humanity still shine through.
The Temptation to Despair
It’s understandable to feel weary. The rise of fascism—yes, again—has emboldened those who pedal in lies so shamelessly and so often that the falsehoods begin to pass for truth.
But we must resist the pull of despair.
This morning I wrote in my journal:
“Maybe my Substack today might be about kindness in a world of strife, beauty in a world of selfishness, folly and war. Pope Francis’s heart was with the poor, the immigrant, the disadvantaged.
In a world of Toxic Trump, turn down the volume of the narcissist and open your eyes and ears to the goodness in the world. To birdsong and rain, which makes plants grow.
To friendship and kindness and growth and light and shelter and health.”
Notes from the Personal Front
We are, each of us, masters of our fate. My friend Robin’s slow but steady recovery—he’s now been moved out of intensive care—has lifted my spirits. His health crisis spurred me into action: I pitched our song to a choir. Those lyrics mean something.
There’s such wonder in collaborating with professional musicians—skilled, sensitive, generous souls—to shape new songs together. That process, too, is a kind of grace.
I hope that in my final days I shall be grateful. And that gratitude will numb every pain and sorrow.
A Little Irritation, A Wider Perspective
I’ve had hay fever the past few days. A small thing, yes—but enough to leave me a little below par. Runny nose, swollen eyes, dry cough. Still, I have medications. I’m healthy. It will pass.
And how lucky am I to be able to say that?
The Comfort of Story and Shared Ritual
There can be real comfort in belonging to a religion. In the sense of shared worldview, shared story, and communal identity. Yes, there are dreadful liturgies—but there are also fine and powerful ones that help people process life’s joys and sorrows.
Do I regret calling my first memoir In My Gut, I Don’t Believe—with its cover photo of my final profession cross? Not really. It may have deterred some religious readers who might otherwise have connected with the story, yes. But that title captured a turning point:
The moment I dared to trust my doubt.
The moment I stopped outsourcing my judgement to those in authority.
The moment I became, in the truest sense, an adult.
A Thought on Power and Peace
Let me repeat something I recently posted on social media:
Imagine if Russia annexed Alaska in 2014 and began a full-scale invasion of the USA three years ago, occupying its western seaboard, including California. Would Trump accept a “deal” requiring the USA to recognise that Alaska was now legally Russian?
Trump doesn’t have the competence to negotiate a peace treaty. But that’s beside the point—he isn’t needed. He’s a distraction.
Putin could end the war in Ukraine today.
He could stop his illegal invasion of a sovereign state.
He could withdraw from all the lands he has occupied.
Whether he ever dons sackcloth and ashes for his crimes against humanity—that’s a matter for his conscience.
Happy days,
Joe
PS Sorry there’s no voiceover this week. My voice is feeling a bit rough with heavy hayfever.
Joe’s acclaimed first memoir In My Gut, I Don’t Believe is available on Amazon in Kindle, Paperback, Hardback and Audible editions. His second memoir Saved by a Woman is available on Amazon in Kindle, Paperback, and Hardback editions.
