There is a lot to be said for being gentle.
And calm and attentive.
I spend too much time twitching and buzzing around.
Never elbowing or bullying.
But always busy.
On duty.
Looking for the edge, sniffing out the angle, counting what’s been accumulated, grieving what’s been lost, waiting for the breaks, hoping for the tipping points.
Life is fast.
Gentle.
I notice that some men blink slowly.
I am drawn to men that blink slowly.
I like them because they appear gentle.
And kind.
I try to remember to blink slowly.
People that blink slowly always seem to be somehow more attentive.
Like they are really listening.
Their eyes on yours.
Silently.
Chess.
The film at the end of this story is called, and is about ‘The Last Chess Shop in New York’.
You will take from it what you will.
What I took from it was that there is a lot to be said for being gentle.
For looking after people.
And one more thing…
The other thing I took from this 6 minute film is this.
In life, there are (we are told) many different groups of people. Men, women, old, young, black, white, friends, enemies, the just, the thieves, the Brexiteers and the remainers.
In this film, I see only two kinds of people.
Strangers and friends.
And I also sense that, in this tiny corner of the world, The Last Chess Shop in New York, there is a minuscule yet steady drip, drip, drip of the former – becoming the latter.
And that’s lovely.
