Saw Will Smith's Seven Pounds last night and it got me hoping if someone rich and giving (not necessarily as good-looking as Will Smith) please discover my inner kindness and find out about my deep-seethed desire (to own one) to give me -- without strings attached and sans conditions -- a beautiful beach house!

That's what Will Smith did in the movie: he gave a needy mother of two his beautiful beach house. He also gave away his kidney, liver, bone marrow and his lung. In the end he also gave away his eyes and his heart. All because of guilt. Because some years ago, his wife was killed in an accident together with six other strangers because he was fidgeting with his cellphone while driving.

Throughout the movie, I thought Will Smith was dying of something that's why he chose people whom he will give his body parts to (and that beach house!). I was wrong. All throughout the movie, Will Smith was trying to know the kindness of those people whom he decided he will help live (by giving parts of himself, literally). The whole film was about someone's hope for redemption via kindness.

(This must be the reason why I'm in Saudi and not copywriting for a famous advertising company in Manila. I don't know how to describe a beautiful movie. I do not have a flair for a Rotten Tomatoes-ish movie review).

I liked Seven Pounds the movie because it made me realize a lot of things, mostly about the inherent kindness of people. That life is not really about what you can get from it but from what you can give to it. That kindness begets kindness and redemption and joy and life.

Many, many years ago I met an elementary school teacher who travels by foot just so she can teach the children of a remote village somewhere in Rizal. I've forgotten her name now. The article I wrote about her didn't get published (it's not her fault; it's my bad, bad writing). But I remembered what she told me when I asked why she decided to accept the job: "I pity the children."

She pities. And her pity emanated kindness.

For a while I thought I'd also be a teacher and travel by foot and teach children of remote villages how to read and count and sing. Greed for material wealth took me away from that short-lived dream. Once in a while, during those moments of solitude and contemplating (about getting old, death and dying), I revisit that dream of becoming a teacher in a barrio; revisit that desire to serve other people.

This I plan: when I reach 50, I will submit myself to serving others. (I planned to have a million pesos by 30. I'm 40 now with a paltry savings. So go figure).

Seven Pounds is that kind of a positive weeper that I will, maybe for a few months, remember and claim as my favorite. What I'm hoping to remember, till my life's over, is that kindness creates kindness; the more kindness we see, the kinder we become.

(I don't know if you get this feeling but I remember whenever I ride a jeepney in Antipolo and I happen to sit with either a nun or a seminarian -- or someone religious-looking -- I can't help but be watchful of my thoughts as if they can read the sinful things that go through my mind. I want to be that kind of kindness/goodness/positive vibration/non-evil/holy-emanating person -- without the habit or the all-white gown. I wonder how...)

That is the kind of movie Seven Pounds is. Emanating positive vibrations of kindness, love, giving.