We had an invigorating discussion with a friend to close the bar last night about the limits of empathy, and the degree to which we can understand and relate to the experiences of other human beings. We can never know what it is to be someone else, of course, to feel and think what they feel and think, and that is a lonely proposition, but we can learn from one another, and have flashes of insight into other experiences—this is the whole basis for art, for human culture, really, trying to pierce that loneliness with the recognition that comes from sharing who and what we are. It requires, as Olga Tokarczuk puts it, tenderness:
Tenderness is the most modest form of love. It is the kind of love that does not appear in the scriptures or the gospels, no one swears by it, no one cites it. It has no special emblems or symbols, nor does it lead to crime, or prompt envy.
It appears wherever we take a close and careful look at another being, at something that is not our “self.”
Tenderness is spontaneous and disinterested; it goes far beyond empathetic fellow feeling. Instead it is the conscious, though perhaps slightly melancholy, common sharing of fate. Tenderness is deep emotional concern about another being, its fragility, its unique nature, and its lack of immunity to suffering and the effects of time. Tenderness perceives the bonds that connect us, the similarities and sameness between us. It is a way of looking that shows the world as being alive, living, interconnected, cooperating with, and codependent on itself.
Time to try a little.
Carne en su Jugo: Beef and Beans in a chili-tomatillo sauce, w/tortillas — $10
Potato and Onion Pakoras w/Achaar pickle — $5
Quiche: Roasted Tomatillo, Garlic Scapes, Gruyere cheese — $5
No breakfast sandwiches Sunday, sorry! But we will have Bloody Marys and Mimosas.
Rainbow Sours – red wine, ginger brandy, lemon juice, simple syrup – $4
Tinto de Verano – red wine, lemon lime soda – $5