• Sermon 001

    From Ricky Sutphin@RICKSBBS/TIME to All on Sat Mar 7 04:27:46 2026
    Practice Random Kindness and Senseless Acts of Beauty
    -----------------------------------------------------
    by Deufreuddwyd

    It's a crisp winter day in San Francisco. A woman in a red
    Honda, Christmas presents piled in the back, drives up to
    the Bay Bridge tollbooth. "I'm paying for myself, and for
    the six cars behind me," she says with a smile, handing over
    seven commuter tickets.

    One after another, the next six drivers arrive at the
    tollbooth, dollars in hand, only to be told, "Some lady up
    ahead already paid your fare. Have a nice day."

    The woman in the Honda, it turned out, had read something on
    an index card taped to a friend's refrigerator: "Practice
    random kindness and senseless acts of beauty." The phrase
    seemed to leap out at her, and she copied it down.

    Judy Foreman spotted the same phrase spray-painted on a
    warehouse wall a hundred miles from her home. When it
    stayed on her mind for days, she gave up and drove all the
    way back to copy it down. "I thought it was incredibly
    beautiful," she said, explaining why she's taken to writing
    it at the bottom of all her letters, "like a message from
    above."

    Her husband, Frank, liked the phrase so much that he put it
    up on the wall for his seventh graders, one of whom was the
    daughter of a local columnist. The columnist put it in the
    paper, admitting that though she liked it, she didn't know
    where it came from or what it really meant.

    Two days later, she heard from Anne Herbert. Tall, blonde,
    and forty, Herbert lives in Marin, one of the country's ten
    richest counties, where she house-sits, takes odd jobs, and
    gets by. It was in a Sausalito restaurant that Herbert
    jotted the phrase down on a paper place mat, after turning
    it around in her mind for days.

    "That's wonderful!" a man sitting nearby said, and copied it
    down carefully on his own placemat.

    "Here's the idea," Herbert says. "Anything you think there
    should be more of, do it randomly."

    Her own fantasies include: (1) breaking into
    depressing-looking schools to paint the classrooms, (2)
    leaving hot meals on kitchen tables in the poor parts of
    town, (3) slipping money into a proud old woman's purse.
    Says Herbert, "Kindness can build on itself as much as
    violence can." Now the phrase is spreading, on bumper
    stickers, on walls, at the bottom of letters and business
    cards. And as it spreads, so does a vision of guerrilla
    goodness.

    In Portland, Oregon, a man might plunk a coin into a
    stranger's meter just in time. In Patterson, New Jersey, a
    dozen people with pails and mops and tulip bulbs might
    descend on a rundown house and clean it from top to bottom
    while the frail elderly owners look on, dazed and smiling.
    In Chicago, a teenage boy may be shoveling off the driveway
    when the impulse strikes. What the hell, nobody's looking,
    he thinks, and shovels the neighbor's driveway too.

    It's positive anarchy, disorder, a sweet disturbance. A
    woman in Boston writes "Merry Christmas!" to the tellers on
    the back of her checks. A man in St. Louis, whose car has
    just been rear-ended by a young woman, waves her away,
    saying, "It's a scratch. Don't worry."

    Senseless acts of beauty spread: A man plants daffodils
    along the roadway, his shirt billowing in the breeze from
    passing cars. In Seattle, a man appoints himself a one man
    vigilante sanitation service and roams the concrete hills
    collecting litter in a supermarket cart. In Atlanta, a man
    scrubs graffiti from a green park bench.

    They say you can't smile without cheering yourself up a
    little -- likewise, you can't commit a random act of
    kindness without feeling as if your own troubles have been
    lightened if only because the world has become a slightly
    better place.

    And you can't be a recipient without feeling a shock, a
    pleasant jolt. If you were one of those rush-hour drivers
    who found your bridge fare paid, who knows what you might
    have been inspired to do for someone else later? Wave
    someone on in the intersection? Smile at a tired clerk? Or
    something larger, greater? Like all revolutions, guerrilla
    goodness begins slowly, with a single act. Let it be yours.


    Rixter
    telnet://ricksbbs.synchro.net:23
    http://ricksbbs.synchro.net:8080

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