I came across a lecture by Dr. Wayne Dyer flipping through channels on the TV. I recognized him and stopped to listen a little. Then I heard the following story about a retarded child named Shaya.
It is from a work by Dyer called The Power of Intention. (If you have the patience to see the 2h15m video, see here: The Power of Intention. It is free and actually quite interesting.)
Dyer is a self-help guru now turned mystic who talks about a "source" (which is another word for God and, in the case of this work, "intention"). He says our mission in life is to keep our connection with this source from deteriorating. Unlike other mystics, he preaches perfection on earth.
Just for the sake of overview, Dyer says the seven faces of intention are creativity, kindness, love, beauty, expansion, abundance and receptivity. He claims we can achieve perfection in all of these faces and that they are the best connections to the source. (For the record, I do not agree with many of Dyer's constructions, but I find his approach very interesting and serious.)
The face of intention that is dealt with in the story below is kindness.
According to Dyer, there are studies that prove that the serotonin level in the brain increases when we are kind (giver, receiver and observer) and our immune systems are strengthened, although he did not say what those studies are. Still, that is an intriguing thought and I will look into in the future.
Now here is the idea I want to chew on. The following story is sentimental to the point of sappiness, but it gets to me. I read it and still choke up with tears that want to come out. It is practically the opposite of everything I love in Objectivism, yet deep within me, something of value is touched on a fundamental level and I know this is the good. This certainty goes beyond feeling.
Why is that? I refuse to deny it because it does not align with the philosophy I love. The certainty is real. So I need to understand this.
Maybe kindness is so emotionally powerful because we are looking down at the mentally deficient, but I wonder if kindness to creators, producers and geniuses better than we are is not simply another form, albeit a more difficult one. I know we would do well to learn it. Looking up is harder than looking down, but the rewards are great. So maybe being kind to the great among us could be an Objectivist contribution to ancient wisdom. I do know that I greatly value kindness to both low and high and I intend to keep practicing it throughout my life.
I am aware that this is only one element, so kindness in the meaning I am looking at here should not be considered as altruism.
Here is the story. (I was able to obtain the text from here.)
Anybody have any thoughts?
In Brooklyn, New York, Chush is a school that caters to learning-disabled children. Some children remain in Chush for their entire school career, while others can be mainstreamed into conventional school. At a Chush fundraiser dinner, the father of a Chush child delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended. After praising the school and its dedicated staff, he cried out, "Where is the perfection in my son, Shaya? Everything God does is done with perfection. But my child cannot understand things as other children do. My child cannot remember facts and figures as other children do. Where is God's perfection?" The audience was shocked by the question, pained by the father's anguish, and stilled by the piercing query. "I believe," the father answered, "that when God brings a child like this into the world, the perfection that he seeks is in the way people react to this child."
He then told the following story about his son, Shaya.
One afternoon, Shaya and his father walked past a park where some boys Shaya knew were playing baseball. Shaya asked, "Do you think they'll let me play?" Shaya's father knew that his son was not at all athletic and that most boys would not want him on their team. But Shaya's father understood that if his son was chosen to play, it would give him a sense of belonging. Shaya's father approached one of the boys on the field and asked if Shaya could play. The boy looked around for guidance from his teammates. Getting none, he took matters into his own hands and said, "We're losing by six runs, and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team, and we'll try to put him up in the ninth inning."
Shaya's father was ecstatic as Shaya smiled broadly. Shaya was told to put on a glove and go out to play in center field. In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shaya's team scored a few runs but was still behind by three. In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shaya's team scored again, and now had two outs and the bases loaded, with the potential winning run on base. Shaya was scheduled to be up. Would the team actually let Shaya bat at this juncture and give away their chance to win the game?
Surprisingly, Shaya was given the bat. Everyone knew that it was all but impossible because Shaya didn't even know how to hold the bat, let alone hit with it. However, as Shaya stepped up to the plate, the pitcher moved a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shaya could at least be able to make contact. The first pitch came in, and Shaya swung clumsily and missed. One of Shaya's teammates came up to Shaya, and together they held the bat and faced the pitcher waiting for the next pitch. The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly toward Shaya. As the pitcher came in, Shaya and his teammate swung the bat, and together they hit a slow ground ball to the pitcher. The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could easily have thrown the ball to the first baseman. Shaya would have been out and that would have ended the game. Instead, the pitcher took the ball and threw it on a high arc to right field far beyond the reach of the first baseman. Everyone started yelling, "Shaya, run to first. Run to first." Never in his life had Shaya run to first. He scampered down the baseline wide-eyed and startled. By the time he reached first base, the right fielder had the ball. He could have thrown the ball to the second baseman who would tag out Shaya, who was still running!!
But the right field understood what the pitcher's intentions were, so he threw the ball high and far over the third baseman's head. Everyone yelled, "Run to second, run to second!" Shaya ran toward second base as the runners ahead of him deliriously circled the bases toward home. As Shaya reached second base, the opposing shortstop turned him in the direction of third base, and shouted, "Run to third." As Shaya rounded third, the boys from both teams ran behind him screaming, "Shaya, run home." Shaya ran home, stepped on home plate, and all 18 boys lifted him on their shoulders and made him the hero, as he had just hit a 'grand slam' and won the game for his team.
"That day," said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, "those 18 boys reached their level of God's perfection"
I personally think this story is a powerful morality tale. If people want moral perfection, this story showed a moment of perfect kindness. I wonder if it would be possible to do this looking up...