These words from the 23rd Psalm are usually used metaphorically but now they have become quite literal. Death, disease and suffering are all around us. Many of us have become as prisoners in our own home; others are risking their lives to earn a living. Many are grieving the loss of loved ones. Many are grieving the loss of their income, job or business. Death and the shadow of death abounds.
But even before the virus appeared, all was not well. The shadow of death was very much present but it seemed not as contagious. Some uncomfortable facts, most of which don’t reach the daily news: year-to-date (as of Apr 15, 2020) we in the US have lost 31,000 lives to the COVID-19 virus. In that same period, we lost 10,000 lives from gun violence, 14,000 lives from suicide, 17,000 lives from opioid overdose and….I could continue--but I think I’ve made my point.
I am not trying to ruin your day, but this is happening right now-- perhaps in your own neighborhood. Yet, we are not as frightened by these numbers because most of us believe we are immune to these maladies. It is sad; but it’s someone else’s sadness.
Yes, many great things are being done by many heroic (and ordinary) individuals; and we do have the potential to heal and to transform our world. But healing will not occur until we address the reality of our life as it is right now.
Some might be thinking, “How can I look at all of this without falling into despair?” “How can I remain positive when all of this is in my face?” “How can this be addressed so that we can be a better people?”
The answer--in a word--is compassion.
Compassion…what is it?
It can be many things--it is too big to be pinned down by a single definition. We might best understand it by first looking at what it is not. It is not pity. Pity sees the other as a victim, and perhaps sees myself as some kind of a hero or savior: I even might feel a certain sense of superiority. Pity secretly says, “Thank God that‘s not me.”
Just notice what you feel when you see a panhandler on the street corner. Of course not everyone will feel the same thing, but it’s helpful to notice your own feelings rather than trying figure how much to give or how to justify not giving anything. It may be uncomfortable to do this—but it’s very revealing. And what’s revealed can be healed.
Compassion is not guilt. Sometimes we respond to suffering from a feeling of guilt; we sometimes offer help to others just to assuage our own guilt. Or perhaps we feel guilty if we choose not to help someone out. Compassion is not predicated upon any action or inaction; it is an internal state. We may act from compassion, but whether we do or don’t we are not motivated by guilt or pity.
Compassion is not a feeling of depression or despair. We may believe that if we feel terrible enough then we’ve done our duty. Or we may be vicariously living out repressed feelings of depression or despair by projecting it on to another.
Some individuals find that they will unconsciously merge with the feelings of another person. They may feel what others are feeling-- but lose themselves in that feeling. They seem unable to differentiate between their own feelings and that of another. This is not compassion.
With true compassion we don’t lose our sense of self; we are able to maintain our own center of identity. We have boundaries, but the boundaries are flexible and can be opened if we choose—or we can close them when necessary. Healthy boundaries are more like a gate than a wall.
So, what is compassion? I cannot define it, but I can suggest ways in which you can experience it for yourself. Compassion begins by being willing to feel--to fist feel the depths of your own pain. If you can, do this without internal commentary or interpretation of your experience. Do not compare this experience with anything in the past or something hoped for in the future. Watch out for overtones of self-pity, resentment or idealism. Simply be willing to feel what you feel without adding anything to it--simply open your heart to all of it. Be kind to yourself; listen to your body and gently accept all of the places that hurt.
Strange as it may sound, when you are willing to feel pain in this way you diminish your suffering. You will experience the difference between pain and suffering. You will see the difference between that which is inevitable and that which you can avoid. The difference is vast—and it changes everything.
Compassion is a way to overcome suffering. With compassion you face suffering in order to end suffering; first your own and then that of others. As you do this you will see that suffering is not your personal possession, and it is not your fault. Much of our suffering is due to the belief that we are alone or that something is wrong with us. When suffering is recognized as universal it morphs into compassion.
Much suffering arises when we try to hide our pain, out of shame or out of the fear of rejection. We need not hide our suffering--nor need we wear it as a badge of honor--pointing out our specialness. (No one has suffered as much as I have!)
When you stop trying to possess or manipulate suffering it lessens immediately. Compassion is simply choosing to keep your heart open as you walk through the dark valley…one step at a time. Compassion is one of the most powerful forces for healing there is.
Grief can be the garden of compassion if you keep your heart open
through everything. Your pain can become your greatest ally
in your life’s search for love and wisdom. Rumi