On Tenderness
A pale grey whippet with yellow-green eyes diligently follows her owner’s lead. Appearing timid and submissive, she makes a swift side-swipe to grab bread crusts fallen on the floor under the cafe table. Lightly, she comes close, pet parent pausing to allow her soft nose to explore my hands. Then, I watch as that soft, long nose pokes over a tabletop in search of sweet crumbs - delicate body, gentle presence. She is tenderness - an oasis in the desert of the world’s chaos.
Then, a newborn cries, her tiny hands shaking as she turns pink, her mother lifts her from the pram and holds her close. Little cream-socked feet dangle, wiggling. This tenderness between mother and child, between animal companion and ‘owner’, between lovers who love, between carer and patient, between heartbroken human and friend, touches more than those for whom tenderness is intended. Tenderness expands and touches others in it’s wake.
As I sit, observing life, I notice how tenderness shows itself in the small exchanges of my day. My tender heart needs to be in the presence of other tender things. Or perhaps I draw them to me and they bask in my own tender presence?
I believe tenderness lives in everyone, often concealed beneath a multitude of layers; barriers we have erected to protect from disappointment, judgements, from hurt and the resulting bitterness that can consume our energy like woodchip burns in a fire. The touch of tenderness offers hope and awakens us to these things that bite and eat away at it.
When the cracks appear in our demeanour, shaken by loss, grief or joy, whether through death, separation, heartbreak or ache, a penetrating kind of love or an epiphanous moment with life; tenderness awaits us, raw, vulnerable, beautiful.
In the presence of tenderness, we can touch something real, unpretentious; something that softens our hard edges. Like a burning candle, that slowly and gently melts, outer layers dripping away down to the wick, leaving only unguarded light. A tender heart is an exquisite thing; it radiates warmth and gives off a soft glow that subtly suffuses darkness.
Tenderness holds a certain quality in the vast spectrum of what it means to love; it contains kindness, it’s soft, humble and honest. It can be a sweet kind of innocence, a hopeful gentleness, tenderness can be deep and hold us in protection.
The whippet turns to look at me, this gentle being, meeting with a tender heart; we are two candles burnt down to their wicks - unguarded lights.
Enjoy your week friends,
with love
Jane x
PS: I’m writing a bit less on Substack at the moment as I focus my energy on the development of other related projects. I imagine I’ll write about once a month while in this phase, and perhaps more if inspiration arises!