Now, before we begin, you must know that kindness is a word stitched together from two very fine things. First, there is kind, which is what you are when you share the last strawberry (even though you really wanted it). And then, there is ness, which is the sort of thing that makes a place a meadow-ness or a river-ness or a Grand Tea Party-ness. It is the shape and feeling of a thing, the way it spreads itself out like jam on a very good scone. So, you see, kindness is simply the shape of being good to others, like a meadow full of wildflowers where everyone is invited for a picnic. And if that is not a splendid thing to be, then I don’t know what is. Now then! Let us make a great big cake of kindness, light and golden, with whipped cream clouds and strawberries as bright as Elva’s wings. This recipe has been passed down through The Glen by the wise and ancient creatures who know exactly how to make the world a softer, sweeter place. How to Make a Grand Cake of Kindness (With Tea, Of Course) You will need: One large heart (yours will do nicely) A good spoonful of listening ears (freshly washed) Two hands, perfect for helping and holding A mountain of patience (or at least a small hill) Several pinches of laughter (use the giggly kind, not the snorting kind, unless you like that) A jug of warm words (steep them like tea until they are ready) A generous swirl of understanding Strawberries (because everything is better with strawberries) One lovely cake, because all great things happen over cake Method: First, prepare yourself by standing in the sun for at least one minute (if there is no sun, stand near a friendly lamp). Take your heart and place it somewhere soft, like a pillow or a warm pocket. Sift in your listening ears, making sure to catch every word before it drifts away like a dandelion puff. Fold in your helping hands. Be gentle! Do not overmix, or you may find yourself lifting chairs, carrying parcels, and holding doors before you even know what’s happened. Now, very carefully, pour in your patience. This is tricky because patience takes its time (that’s what patience does). But don’t worry—it will arrive when it’s ready. Sprinkle in laughter, but be sure to spread it around evenly! A chuckle here, a giggle there, a full-bellied guffaw when needed. Drizzle in warm words. A little “Oh, that’s a lovely idea!” here, a “Would you like some tea?” there, and maybe even a “You are so very wonderful” right in the middle. Add a swirl of understanding, especially if someone has had a rather crumbly sort of day. Finally, place your strawberries on top and serve immediately, preferably with a good pot of tea and an extra seat for anyone who happens to wander by. How to Know if Your Kindness Cake is Ready: If someone’s frown turns into a smile, it is ready. If the air feels a little warmer, even in winter, it is ready. If a bird sings just as you offer the last slice, it is most definitely ready. If you find yourself feeling full, even though you only had a small bite, then you, dear one, have made it just right. And so, my Best Beloved, kindness is not a thing you have, but a thing you do. It is like baking—meant to be shared, meant to be warm, and meant to make the world taste just a little bit sweeter. Now, tell me, shall we have another slice? Until next time.