Tenderness

I love the word tenderness — that we can prepare for it through contemplation and purpose. There is a sensitivity in the word; a quality of affection and gentleness. And there is the condition of tenderness — physically sore to touch and perhaps mentally tender too. Additionally, something can be made tender, which is to say that which is not benevolent can be made so through discipline, like something physically hard can be softened, or something insensitive made to become more feeling.

Tenderness can enhance or increase risk of reaction — even accuracy.

“Tenderness a thing to be beaten into. Fireflies strung through sapphired air. You’re so quiet you’re almost tomorrow.”

— Excerpt from Night Sky With Exit Wounds, Ocean Vuong

There is compassion, goodness, an altruism… a concern for, or consideration of… an understanding; maybe selflessness that is soft and purposeful and undefinable.

“In the end what can I do with you—tenderness

tenderness for birds and for people for a stone

you should sleep in a palm in the eye’s depths

that’s your place may you be woken by no one”

— Excerpt from The Collected Poems, Zbigniew Herbert

There is tenderness in a mentorship, through the inner work of student and teacher. Growth, moving through change; lovingness or fondness toward a friend, for well-being.