'Now we art all here,' said Hastur meaningfully, 'we must recount the Deeds of the Day.'This is an excerpt of a brilliant book called Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman. While what it shows is that most demons are horribly tenuous and outdated, and that they're really not half as evil as they like to think, it has a deeper significance for me.
'Yeah. Deeds,' said Crowley, with the slightly guilty look of one who is attending church for the first time in years and has forgotten which bits you stand up for.
Hastur cleared his throat.
'I have tempted a priest,' he said. 'As he walked down the street and saw the pretty girls in the sun, I put Doubt into his mind. He would have been a saint, but within a decade we shall have him.'
'Nice one,' said Crowley, helpfully.
'I have corrupted a politician,' said Ligur. 'I let him think a tiny bribe would not hurt. Within the year we shall have him.'
They both looked expectantly at Crowley, who gave them a big smile.
'You'll like this,' he said.
His smile became even wider and more conspiratorial.
'I tied up every portable telephone system in Central London for forty-five minutes at lunchtime,' he said.
There was silence, except for the distant swishing of cars.
'Yes?' said Hastur. 'And then what?'
'Look, it wasn't easy,' said Crowley.
'That's all?' said Ligur.
'Look, people-'
'And exactly what has that done to secure souls for our master?' said Hastur.
Crowley pulled himself together.
What could he tell them? That twenty thousand people got bloody furious? That you could hear the arteries clanging shut all across the city? And that then they went back and took it out on their secretaries or traffic wardens or whatever, and they took it out on other people? In all kinds of vindictive little ways which, and here was the good bit, they thought up themselves. For the rest of the day. The knock-on effects were incalculable. Thousands and thousands of souls all got a faint patina of tarnish, and you hardly had to lift a finger.
See, this idea of Crowley's, from the first time I picked up that book, has latched on to my mind. It ties in with the way I've looked at and have, indeed, tried to live my life ever since. That is to say: Kindly.
Let's rewind a bit. I've always been one of those activist types. I want to change the world. Make a difference. Leave it a better place than I've entered it. Most activists dedicate themselves to a cause. Either because they think that one cause really, really matters, more than other causes, or because they think their talents are most needed for that particular cause, or simply because fighting every bit of injustice, every bit of wrongdoing in the world is a fools errant and leads to burnout and madness.
They're probably right.
It also makes them a lot like Hastur and Ligur though: Dedicated to changing one small piece of the world and in the process forgetting the rest.
While I do have my causes and I do prioritise some things over others, I can never quite get this particular passage, this idea out of my head. And so, I make it a point to look the bus driver in the eye and greet him every time I enter a bus, and thank him and wish him a good day as sincerely as I can every time I leave it. I leave a street musician a note thanking them for brightening up my day, even if I have no money to give, and look them in the eye while doing so. I say hi to the cleaners and the cafeteria ladies and try and learn their names. I tell a stranger on the train that I love her dress, or his dreadlocks or ask them if they want to sit instead of me. These things cost me very little, or nothing at all. And yet they are rewarding. The startled smile, the surprised look of gratitude, the greeting and acknowledgement I receive in return. But it doesn't end with that.
If I brighten someone else's day, make it a little bit better, maybe they will be nice to someone else in turn, and that person in turn will do so for someone else. I know that doesn't happen every time I'm nice to someone. I might be an idealist, but I'm not that naive. But I figure, every day I brighten the day of at least one other person is a good day. It's a day worth living and a day worth aspiring to.
And if some days, I switch off my computer and never leave my house, just read a book and never interact with the outside world, well, I'll still have brightened someone's day. And that someone is me. And tomorrow, I'll pay it forward.
