Posts Tagged ‘Compassion’

Compassion

Tuesday, April 27th, 2010

We give lip service to compassion. It is a lofty ideal that, more often than not, we use to calm ourselves when we are pissed off at someone else. For example when someone cuts us off in traffic or the check out chick is rude to us we talk ourselves back from a rage by being ‘compassionate’.

Compassion is more than cutting someone slack.

Compassion is deeper than considering someones feelings.

Compassion goes beyond pity.

I didn’t realise until I got the responses from my 150th blog post (the ask a friend challenge) how integral compassion is to who I am as a person in the world. I meditate on compassion. When someone wrongs me my response is, after the requisite clearing of the angry emotions (I’ll post on this process soon), to find genuine compassion. Finding that place of genuine compassion recongises that we all in this together. Compassion effortlessly forgives.

Compassion means – to be deeply aware of the suffering of another.

AND to have the desire to alleviate that suffering.

I actively cultivate compassion. I focus on the suffering on untold millions and try to take it into my heart. It hurts. It is supposed to. I try to breathe out compassion. For myself. For untold millions. It is hard.

Harder still. Hearing that my oldest friend lost his mother today. A graceful, impossibly strong woman with wicked sense of humour is lost to this earth. I don’t know what to say. Compassion is all I’ve got. Suddenly compassion doesn’t feel like enough.

The darkest hour

Monday, April 19th, 2010

5If you tell me you haven’t had your fair few dark hours, then you are one of two things; 1) a liar, 2) someone who has never lived. This post is for the rest of us.


We know that the darkest hour is just before the dawn. Crazy but true. If you are anything like me, you underestimate how dark it can get. You are craving the light like a fashion junky craves new Jimmy Choo’s because you are certain that it can’t possibly get any darker than this moment. You are wrong. Invariably we are wrong. We underestimate how much darkness we can withstand. We cannot quantify how much darkness we can swallow whole. You know it really is the darkest hour when you stop expecting the light.

It really does not get any darker than pitch black. So black that you are sure a blackness this profound must go on, and on, and on. That is the darkest hour. That is also the switch that calls in the light. When we are immersed in darkness and instead of denying it, hating on it, rejecting it or feeling guilty for it we do something radical; We accept the darkness. Something magical happens in that moment.

The darkness doesn’t devour you are you feared it would. You devour the darkness.

Women, especially, were designed for this role. We are the life-death-life mother embodied. We take light and make it dark, only to make it light again. We are great transmuters. We inherited that gift from our mother, THE great transmuter – Mother Earth. She takes crap, I mean real crap, and uses it to nourish herself. Nature takes dung, rotten leaves and plants, carcasses and breaks them down into fertiliser. She uses fire to cleanse her skin and baby shoots and saplings sprout in the ashes.

Don’t underestimate your capacity for darkness and certainly don’t disown it. Shunned darkness turns into wickedness. Shunned darkness becomes dangerous. Darkness owned is transforming. It wasn’t until I realised that “I could never hurt my baby” was a lie, that my full capacity for mothering was born. It wasn’t until I hurt my husband in the worst possible way, that our relationship could be born. It isn’t until we swallow whole the suffering of the world that our compassion is born. (There are many examples of meditations to assist with this. This is an example that I *LOVE*)

Something I know for sure: Your lightest hour will only be as intense as your darkest. Embrace the dark.

*image credit

Bleeding Heart

Sunday, January 31st, 2010

I have been called a soft touch more than once. I cannot bear to see harrowed anguish on somebody face, let alone hear it in their voice or cry. Watching someone bleed or writhe in pain draws a physical reaction from me. I cannot help but do something, even if that something is pray.

I have always been this way. I was the toddler who soothed other children at the park, took pity on and played with vagabonds on city benches and who always shared. To this day if I am asked for small change on the street you get no judgement from me but you do get whatever coins I am carrying. I am no fool, but feel that pain, shame and despair should be alleviated if at all possible.

As such motherhood hasn’t been an easy road to walk for me. I am not sure it is for anybody. If compassion isn’t your strong suit, then parenthood will definitely change that. Not a parent? I have heard parenthood described as having your heart outside your body walking around under it’s own steam. From experience its and accurate description. It is as though they are still wired into your nervous system and you actually feel the child’s pain.

Knowing there is nothing you can do, or being intellectually aware that what you are doing is in the child’s best interest, doesn’t make it any easier to hear them crying or calling your name. Yes baby, Mummy is aware it upsets you. And for the record it does make my heart bleed every time you cry. I only hope you feel my love and forgive me one day. Now cuddle teddy and go to sleep.

No right answer

Friday, January 29th, 2010

Life isn’t all rosy. I have front row seats at the moment to some awful melodramas playing out in the lives of my loved ones. Sometimes life is hard. The choices we are forced to make are harder;

How far are you willing to go for family?

How many times can you turn the other cheek?

How long can you keep your head buried in the sand before you are ready to face the fire that is coming close to burning your arse?

When is it advisable to run? How long do you stay away?

How much are you willing to change and sacrifice for love?

When is letting the other go a better option?

When do we decide to stop being victims of our parents and take responsibility for our lives?

How to react when someone changes the rules of the game?

How do you plan when you are on borrowed time?

How do you balance the needs of the other with your own?

How far would you go to protect a loved one?

The more I watch the lives around me the clearer it becomes that no-one has the answer. Everybody’s advice sucks, especially mine. We cannot know how it feels to talk in the shoes of another and we don’t want to know the deepest secrets of their heart. We may not always understand why people do what they do, but that isn’t our role. We are not here to judge, to assess, to evaluate, to blame, to make someone right or wrong. Our concern is to do what we must, as they do what they must. No more and no less. It gets muddy and confused and the lines blur. Nothing much we can do about that. No two will ever see eye to eye, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t in this together. Life doesn’t discriminate.

What I know for sure is that there is no right answer. There is just the choice you make at the time.

My forgiving habit

Sunday, January 24th, 2010

I am in a habit of letting go, of forgiving. I am slow to anger and almost always ‘talk  it out’ with the other when I feel wronged. I even (much to my partner’s frustration) sit down and have that same frank discussion when I feel someone else is upset with me. I have a deep aversion to bottling things up. I hate repressing emotion and I cannot bear to hold a grudge.

This was possibly the hardest habit I have ever formed, and it is the greatest gift I ever gave myself.

I remember what living in a sess-pool of my own angst felt like. I remember hating someone so much it made me physically sick when I saw them in person (true story). I remember anger, seething rage and shame colouring my every decision and word. Although I didn’t know it at the time, I made the choice to feel that way when I refused to let go. The indescribable freedom I claimed through forgiveness forged my resolve in that instant never to carry a grudge again.

Forgiveness is simple, but not necessarily easy. In fact it can be excruciating hard, until you know how. Once it becomes a habit you find yourself restless, desperate for ways to let go of what hurts you.

Here is what I have learned about forgiveness so far:

  • Emotional pain is there for a reason. It is telling us something is left undone; something to do, something to learn, something to say.
  • To move towards forgiveness you must first acknowledge the pain you are feeling AND feel it. If you are forgiving more than an argument with a loved one, this could mean you curl into the fetal position or cry tears of rage. Either way only way forward is through it. It won’t be pretty or a walk in the park, but it is no worse than living with the suppressed pain indefinitely.
  • You must forgive yourself before you forgive the other. You did the best you could with the information and resources you had at the time. Shit happens. You can’t control everything, be gentle with yourself. You’re ok.
  • In time you can forgive the other. They did the best they could with the information and resources they had at the time. It may not have been ‘right’, it certainly wasn’t ideal, but it is done.

I can forgive much, but I am not an expert. There are things I am sure would shatter my resolve to forgive. There are situations I cannot fathom, let alone let go of effortlessly. But while my life is in a comfortable capital city and all my family members are healthy, I feel I have no excuse but to let go.

7 reasons why gentler isn’t always easier

Monday, December 7th, 2009

I like to do things the gentle way. I try diplomacy first. I move to reasoning second. I attempt healthy debate next. I am honest and upfront, slow to anger and always give the other the benefit of the doubt. By no means am I afraid of confrontation, standing up for myself or making a point (or making a scene) but only if it is absolutely necessary.

I haven’t always been this way. I used to yell first, insult second and always make a scene. I was clearly understood always, everybody knew where they stood with me and how I was feeling.

Having lived both sides of the coin I have arrived at a lesser known truth: Abrupt and abrasive is easier.

It is much easier to be closed minded. It is effortless to say what you think, when you think it. It is simple to assume your opinion is the only one that matters. It is easy to manage your relationships when you are looking out for number one; You are either hated for your rudeness or loved for your refreshing honesty. And for the most part you are respected for being frank and making your needs known.

Maintaining the same sense of honesty whilst being respectful, compassionate and gentle is much MUCH harder. Let me show you why:

  1. To live the gentle way requires more strength of conviction, because you are aren’t yelling.
  2. Managing your relationships with compassion is harder because you consider everybody’s needs.
  3. Getting respect in a world that respects flashy and noisy is a longer road when you are humble and tread softly.
  4. You require a bigger heart to live this way to extend the benefit of the doubt, time and time again without becoming jaded.
  5. The balance between compassionate and doormat is an easy line to cross, so the gentle way needs much more self awareness.
  6. To tread softly you must be willing to let go of others opinions, because you will inevitably be misunderstood by the abrupt and abrasive.
  7. The gentle way teaches a profound sense of perspective; your immediate needs may not be as important as you had thought.

Which way to you live, rough and ready or compassionate and gentle? Have you found a balance between the two?