Threads of Kindness

A brief encounter on a rainy morning in Brussels turns into a meditation on trust, loss, and the invisible web that connects us all.

“Kindness moves through us like light across a web.”— by Diana Bourel

The Power of Small Acts

What if every small act of kindness were proof of something greater?

In twelve minutes — the span of a rainy ride from my pickup point to the station — a stranger and I discovered the thread that connects us: that quiet current of giving and receiving that makes us, quite simply, human.

A few days ago, while visiting friends in Belgium, my taxi driver arrived fifteen minutes early. The early morning streets of Brussels gleamed, still wet from the night’s rain. On the pavement, a carpet of golden leaves was spread out — those that had surrendered their now-naked trees while the world slept.

Ayoub Belhoussine — that is his name — explained that by late October, the trees are usually already bare. But this year, autumn had been slow to arrive, rather like good news.

These are anxious times. To stand naked and vulnerable, like the late autumn trees, requires strong roots and the ability to weather the bleary winter months. We must choose to see the good.

A Meeting of Trust

This was the same man who had driven me when I first arrived in the city a month earlier. I had asked for his card then, promising to book him during my next visit. On Sunday evening, I did just that.

He remembered me vaguely, but confirmed he would be there at dawn. And he was — early, as promised.

I thanked him. I told him that punctuality — the keeping of one’s word, even to a stranger, even when nothing grave depends on it — builds trust. It reassures us that integrity still exists, silent, in the ordinary gestures we often overlook.

Our tacit agreement meant that, each in our own way, we had made the effort to meet. Like a spider’s web, we humans are connected in a thousand ways — whether we see them or not.

The Invisible Web

When I spoke of this invisible web, Ayoub nodded.

“Life has its own deep logic,” he said. “Everything happens for a reason, even if we don’t always understand why in the moment.”

We spoke of gratitude, and of how certain events, seemingly tragic, can sometimes save a life — redefine it, transcend it.

I told him the story of a friend, miraculously recovered from a serious kitesurfing accident, saved by the tenacious love of her family and the dedication of her caregivers.

He told me, in turn, of a car accident that had shaken him, but which, in retrospect, may have saved him from something worse.

We spoke of that search for the good amid the rubble — that patient work of sifting through the ruins of everyday life.

Word by word, we were walking those delicate threads between philosophy, spirituality, and human experience.

The Lineage of Kindness

How do we trace the path of a single act of kindness?

We do not exist in a vacuum. Every act of love carries a lineage.

Kindness moves through us like light across a web: it travels along the invisible threads spun by our ancestors, our parents, all those who once offered us a hand. When we repeat these gestures, we give them life anew.

This web is woven so that, collectively, our humanity may leave a gentler imprint.

When we feel safe, we access the best of ourselves — our capacity for connection and for giving. Without that feeling, this impulse retreats, making way for the cold, the sadness, the every-man-for-himself we read of in the papers.

It is a choice, truly: the choice to actively participate in creating conditions of safety and solidarity — especially when it is difficult. Through our actions, we shape the world we wish to inhabit.

Things Lost and Gestures Found

When we reached the station, we had made good use of those twelve minutes — talking about life and our interdependence. The ride ended, and so did the conversation, naturally.

“Thank you, Ayoub,” I said as I got out. He smiled, his hand over his heart.

I did not yet know the story wasn’t over.

Back in Paris, I had barely walked in when I made the discovery: my bag was gone. My heart pounding, I called Ayoub.

“I’m sorry to bother you… You didn’t, by any chance, find my bag in your taxi?”

“No, madam, I’m very sorry, but you didn’t leave anything behind.”

So, I would have to retrace my steps, one by one. But my feet were already in Paris. Was the bag at the Starbucks? On the train, car 3, seat 72? On the metro? There would be phone calls to make, leads to eliminate one by one.

At the same time, I had to act: cancel the cards, report the loss. I didn’t want to bother my friends, who were already dealing with so much. As strange as it may seem, Ayoub was the only person I thought to call.

The SOS

Without the slightest hesitation, he offered to help. And he did.

He went to the Starbucks, then to the Eurostar desk, searching everywhere for that bag which held a good part of my itinerant life.

That he responded with such calm and generosity towards a near-stranger was a powerful lesson to me.

In the end, my bag wasn’t in Brussels at all, but in Paris — recovered from the lost and found at the Gare du Nord by another stranger, a good Samaritan.

I called Ayoub to let him know and to thank him.

He was happy for me, seeking neither reward nor public recognition.

“It’s only normal,” he insisted.

And I knew that, in his world, this was true: kindness is so natural that there is nothing exceptional about helping another.

The morning stress soon gave way to relief, then to a profound sense of gratitude.

That act of kindness was the guiding thread of this story.

We are all connected, all intertwined.

Kindness is the “how”; preserving a certain quality of humanity is the “why.”

For those who know how to see them, spider webs are miracles.

May we be among those, like Ayoub, who extend a hand — to those close to us, yes, but also to the stranger, when nothing requires it.

This simple level of kindness, multiplied by just a few people in a single day, could very well change the world — or at least, the small corner of it that each of us tends.

A Note on Fear and the Nervous System

Kindness and compassion are not just moral virtues — they are neurobiological pathways that calm the nervous system and build resilience. Fear, too, has a role: it is data, not destiny. It tells us where healing is needed.

Read more in Fear is Data, Not Destiny: How Your Nervous System Rewrites Tomorrow by Diana Bourel.