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Recently, my father admitted to being very moved by Hallmark movies. In many ways he is a traditional man's man. His favourite literary languages are sex, violence, and innuendo. When my brothers and I were growing up, he often counseled us on the virtue of grit. I have rarely seen him cry. At the same time, he is an English teacher, is sensitive to tricks of storytelling, and is highly critical of the inauthentic. He's quick to chide anyone he notices telling themselves a story about life in which they deserved more than they got, or in which they are a maligned hero. All this is to say, I would never have imagined that he would be disposed to weep at Hallmark movies. My younger brother was equally surprised, and swore that he himself could never be moved anything so artless. But my father suggested that, if your heart is not moved by simple stories of basically good people overcoming obstacles to love, maybe it's your heart that's the problem.

All this is to say: Hallmark movies could serve as an easy litmus test for metta.

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