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Hello friends, We lost a bodhisattva this week. She would never have thought of herself that way—bodhisattvas never do—and besides, she was a Christian, one of the good ones. Why do I think of Dolly Parton as a bodhisattva? Because she spent her entire life helping others, and spreading love and joy in as many ways as she could. There are thousands of stories about what Dolly did, and how she moved in the world. There are thousands of stories of her kindness, and her stalwart insistence on speaking up for the most badly oppressed. And Dolly didn’t just speak up, she showed up, with money, support, and action. But she’s gone now, having thankfully set up systems to continue some of her work. She’s gone now, having planted seeds of kindness and justice that flourish in thousands of people. In all the children—many grown—who called her Aunt Dolly every time another free book arrived. In the trans and queer people she hired and celebrated. In the workers whose education she paid for. In the devastated families she gifted money to. To the neighborhoods she pumped money and commerce into. To everyone who listened to her music, watched her films, or sang along as they washed their hands to help stop the spread of a deadly disease. Four years ago, I snapped a photo of a bumper sticker that asked What Would Dolly Do? I also remember trying to explain to someone over dinner once, why Dolly Parton was important, as they looked at me, bewildered that I would be speaking on behalf of a country music singer. “She could be a billionaire, you know,” I said. “But she gives away most of her money.” And here’s the thing: I personally know one hundred people like Dolly. You’ve never heard of them. Some of them are rough around the edges, and have their own struggles. They also don’t have even a fraction of Dolly’s wealth. These are the people who make sure others get fed. They run free community stores. They show up in prisons or do jail support. They advocate for people who need medical care. They blockade the businesses of billionaires. They surround their neighbors when the deportation cops arrive. They speak up. They build connections. They give away more money than they even have. I hope you know people like this, too. Dolly is all of us. We just have to choose kindness. Deep kindness. Firm kindness. The kindness rooted in a bedrock of love and watered with a strong sense of empathy and justice. What Would Dolly Do? We get to decide that. Every day. Best wishes — Thorn
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