Invincible Kindness

Is there a hidden message in this odd story?

This is my ‘anniversary post’ because it’s been a year since I started writing on Substack. And it was life itself that inspired it. All it took was catching my unsafe cloth shoe on the uneven sidewalk of Rockland Avenue, falling flat on my face, and thinking ‘dammit I’m falling’.

As I lay there bleeding from cuts and scrapes to my hands and face, a concerned crowd had gathered. Someone handed me some tissues, assuring me they had not been used. My friend, Olivia, was bending over me with concern. Dabbing at the blood, I opened my eyes and woozily struggled to my feet.

A friendly policewoman appeared, wondering if she should call an ambulance, whether I would need stitches and did I have a doctor? ( I don’t, and besides, very few people have doctors here; the medical system is in permanent crisis) My friend, a practical type, wondered if the police had a first aid kit? The policewoman didn’t know but rushed off to find one. I kept dabbing and assuring people I was fine. I wasn’t; I was in shock.

But then a white, shiny SUV pulled into the driveway on which all this was taking place and out jumped an energetic looking man in his forties, offering help. Not only did he have an impressive, professional first aid kit, he also had a doctor on speed dial!

Who was this angel of mercy? Well, his name was Laird, and when my friend asked him about what he did for a living, he muttered something about managing a sports team. As for the doctor, he ‘just got lucky’. Lucky? In a country that now boasts the very worst medical system in the free world, having a doctor you can simply call up—on a Saturday— is nothing less than a full-blown medical miracle. After inspecting the pictures of my bleeding face my new friend had sent him, the doctor thought I should be okay without stitches or emergency room visits.

An almost instant medical diagnosis over the phone—it was pure magic, my friends.

The policewoman came back, cleaned me up, then Laird drove my friend and me home, where I collapsed on the couch after inspecting the damage. It looked like I had just had a major battle with a sidewalk. The sidewalk had won.  

If this accident proved anything, it is that people and even the police in Victoria are incredibly kind and helpful. I was lucky that there was a huge crowd that day, though I actually dislike crowds. Hidden in that mass of people was the good Samaritan who turned his car around to come to our aid. He did it, he said, because he was a trained specialist in first aid. It’s what I do, he said.

Maybe I have a guardian angel, after all.

Nonetheless, it left me feeling shaky and somewhat disoriented. Falling is not just a physical thing; it can be read as a metaphor, both personal and universal. Things do appear to be falling apart every which way and down that infamous rabbit hole. Falling is, in essence, a loss of control, leaving you vulnerable. As a culture, we’re having an extremely vulnerable moment. There’s simply too much bad news tripping us up at every turn. Control might have been an illusion all along. But we hate to admit it. I hate to admit it. Depending on the kindness of strangers is something we don’t enjoy, but maybe, just maybe, it is the invisible glue that holds the rickety structure of our society together?

I need to ponder that, and maybe my perspective needs a shift. People might be nicer than I thought. Yes, that is entirely possible and as if to convince me, the story took another turn.

Three days later, I finally walked—carefully— out of the door for the first time and made it to the market without falling on my face. I had only one item, so the man in front of me waved me ahead. You are very kind, I told him. Then, a good looking Chinese guy getting his groceries scanned, grabbed my one item, kale greens in a plastic container, and added it to his lot. And paid for it, giving me a big grin. I was quite overcome, what had I done to deserve so much kindness, I wondered. Maybe I just emanated such pitiful vibes that people picked up on them? I turned to the cashier girl and asked if people did this a lot. No, she replied, no I haven’t ever seen this before. And in a long life, nobody had ever offered me so much help and kindness, all in the space of three days.

While pondering these unexpected events, I suddenly I remembered that about two weeks ago, Chase, the lifeguard at the Y pool, had posted a quote by Marcus Aurelius on the pool blackboard: Kindness is invincible. The synchronicity of my ‘event’ with the quote inspired this post. I should thank Chase for posting wise sayings by the Stoics. In addition, the feeling that I had to reconsider what I was doing on my Substack got a lot stronger. On the 31st of this month, Old and Bold is a year old. Is it still working or does it need a refresh?

I welcome reader suggestions. What do you want me to write about? Which post spoke to you the most?

Let me know.

Meanwhile, have a lovely summer; squeeze every last minute of joy out of it. The Fall could bring another painful, metaphorical fall to the pavement. We do seem to losing control of our reality—if we ever had it. And we’ll be extremely lucky if we, collectively, run into friendly strangers handing out random acts of wisdom and kindness.

Thank you for reading and commenting; having these virtual friendships has kept me sort of sane in a world that looks increasingly mad. I hope I have done the same for you.

See you in September!