I didn't hear the end of the story (and I'm not sure that I want to), but it was about a group of children who, while playing in an open field, found a man trapped in the bottom of a well. Instead of going for help, the children decided to stay quiet, and over a few days visited the man several times. Once they brought him food and water. They lied to him and told him that help was on the way. Supposedly a true story from the writer's childhood, I'm almost afraid to go online and hear the end (I left the station's broadcast range mid-story).
Maybe it's not possible to understand what is at the core of cruelty--maybe it's ignorance, fear, self-loathing, evil. I end up feeling badly when think on it for too long.
Tonight, during a 90 minute restorative yoga session, I had a realization that maybe, in my own life, it's not so important to understand where it starts. What I need to do is focus on being kind, not nice, but kind. Sometimes, actually more than sometimes, I feel less than kind (refer to my past posting about gratitude). I have to figure it out. It may be the most I have to give.
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