Staying in the Heart of Compassion

I'm way behind on blog posts. A recent event has consumed my thoughts for weeks. This post has been on my mind every day and I'm still not sure I can adequately say what I want to say.

On December 23, a friend and co-worker, Susan Wood, was killed by a hit-and-run driver. She was crossing the street on her walk from the parking lot to the office. The driver apparently went on to park his car at a friend's apartment complex, then went to another location and called the police, claiming to have been the victim of a carjacking. I have to add here that he has not been tried and found guilty, though the events are fairly clear. Police reports do indicate that he was intoxicated.

My first reaction, after the initial shock and sadness, was anger. That's no surprise. The driver's actions took the life of a beautiful, loving woman, one whose life had been a positive force at work and in the lives of her husband, her two young children, and all the family and friends who loved her. I'm still angry.

But then the recognition of the broader scope of the tragedy became apparent to me. The young man who is charged with her death is only 24 years old. He has a mother, a father, friends, possibly siblings, maybe a girlfriend. Susan's family and friends were not the only ones suffering, grieving, reeling from the events of that morning. I thought about how I would feel if it were my child who had killed this woman.

As days went on, I thought a lot about staying in the heart of compassion...about not letting the anger and grief consume me...about not letting it prevent me from honoring the memory of a friend whose life was about love for her God, her family, her friends.

I thought, too, about justice. What, exactly, is that? How is there any justice possible when a life is taken? Nothing can bring her back. She cannot be replaced. You cannot minimize the grief of her family by taking the life of another, not even the one responsible for her death. The only result of taking his life would be more grief, more pain. His family, like Susan's family, is innocent. Is there any good to be gained for her family by causing his family to suffer, too? I'm still trying to figure out what justice is in a case like this.

Compassion is, in my opinion, poorly defined in the dictionary: "A feeling of deep sympathy and sorrow for another who is stricken by misfortune, accompanied by a strong desire to alleviate the suffering." (http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/compassion) I do not believe that the pain the young man in this incident is feeling should be alleviated. He is accountable for his actions and accountability involves dealing with consequences, and the biggest consequence of this tragedy for him, even bigger than potential jail time, is living with the knowledge that his choices and actions took a human life and caused untold suffering. We should not seek to remove that accountability nor the legal consequences from him, nor to prevent his being jailed or otherwise kept from hurting someone again by his actions. But that doesn't mean that we can't try to understand the depth of his pain, his family's pain, and feel compassion.

Perhaps "sympathy" or "empathy" are better words...but I don't think so. The word "compassion" speaks to me of common passion, of common experience, of the knowledge that there but for grace go I. Maybe we need to redefine compassion in this sense as the acknowledgement that another human being is suffering...that even though that suffering was self-incurred, it is still human suffering...that any one of us could find ourselves in the same position at any time.

We all make bad choices. Have you ever driven impaired? Tired? Distracted? Kids arguing in the back making you nuts? Ever run over a curb because you were looking elsewhere? Ever run a light or a stop sign by accident? I have. And in doing so, I could have hit someone and killed them, and then it would be me living with that for the rest of my life, and my family suffering.

I do not want this young man to be "let off the hook" for his actions. He is responsible. He is accountable. But I'm able to feel compassion for his suffering, for his family's suffering. I'm heartbroken at the loss of a friend, more heartbroken at the pain I see on her husband's face, the knowledge that her children whom she loved so much and was so proud of are without their mother. And I'm grateful to All that I am able to remain in the heart of compassion...that I am not poisoned by the anger.

The young man involved will be held accountable for his actions and I would not remove that accountability if I could. But I will not let my heart of compassion be destroyed by his actions. For the life of me, I cannot help but believe that my friend Susan would agree.

Enough

From the heart of IndigoSatin...my beautiful, loving, and gifted friend...another post to share with you. Her prayer is my own, so beautifully stated that I could not hope to improve on it. She has a gift, and she is a gift to my heart, in my life. You can find more of her heart and words here. May her words take root and grow strong.

Enough
- IndigoSatin

How do you say 'ENOUGH' so loudly that it makes a difference ?
Enough wars.
Enough killing.
Enough hatred.
Enough fear.
Enough hunger.
Enough vandalism.
Enough rudeness.
Enough gossip.
Enough lies.


How can we begin to radiate love and caring like a ripple in a pond ?
Radiate peacefulness.
Radiate nurturing.
Radiate compassion.
Radiate kindness.
Radiate gentleness.
Radiate truth.

Holy Father, please help me make a difference in those lives I touch. Help me choose my words and actions with more care. Give me the strength and courage to speak up when I should, and the greater strength to be silent when I shouldn't.

Divine Mother, please help me look outward to see more clearly the needs of those around me. Help me extend your gentle love and compassion. Help me see past my own tears to see those in the eyes of others.

Photo credit:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/e_hmm/ / CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

Faith, Hope, and Love

My daughter Amybeth wrote a note recently that must be shared. In her note, as in her life, she embodies the ideals of "kindness, compassion, tolerance, and civility" that I hold so dear. She also has a very fine way with words. :)

A thank you note...

So, recently, a very good friend of mine sent me a gift. She spent hard-earned cash and precious time out of her busy life to send me a quirky little piece of pottery that made her smile, and she knew I would appreciate its beauty. And on an absolutely perfect day in November, I opened a box that contained much more than a pretty piece of clay. That box held the most precious gifts in the world - Faith, Hope, and Love.

Michelle had faith that the package would arrive safely to its intended recipient. She hoped that I would enjoy her gift and that it would bring me as much joy as it gave her. And along with it, she sent her love - her love of adventure (how exciting to receive a package!) and her love of our friendship.

Opening that box filled me with gratitude and happiness, and humbled me beyond belief, that someone would think of me so fondly, even though we haven't seen each other in years.

Most of you know that my spiritual beliefs tend toward the "alternative," and you all have differing paths as well. I know that there are numerous points of contention among our collective denominations. However, whether we are LDS, Methodist, Nazarene, Baptist, Pagan, or Unitarian. I am consistently reminded of how similar our beliefs can be. And I'd like to say a prayer of gratitude to Diety for setting you all in my path.

And so, here's a little Faith, Hope, and Love from me me to you. I have the utmost faith that we will continue to respect each other's differences and cultivate our similarities. I hope that we will be walkiing, talking examples of kindness, compassion, tolerance, and civility to our communities, and I send my love to each and every one of you, each and every day.

~Amen and blessed be~

Pain, Wisdom, and Love in Action

Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding. It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self, so therefore, trust the physician and drink his remedy in silence and tranquility. - Kahlil Gibran

I attended a community ritual last night. It was a beautiful ritual about remembering where you come from, knowing that all that has transpired in your life, good and bad, has contributed to who you are. To forget even the painful parts is to disregard an opportunity to learn, to grow wiser, stronger, more whole. It was about forgiveness, not for the sake of the transgressor, but for ourselves, freeing us of a burden that keeps us from moving forward.

In the course of the ritual, two unrelated young people, one a teenager, one just barely twentyone, were sobbing. Knowing a bit about both of them, I know that their pain was genuine, the kind that, in both cases, comes from people they love doing things they can't understand. And it struck me that their tears, the pain they were feeling, was just as Gibran said, "...the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding." I pray that they will keep growing, keep chipping away at the shell, and that they'll allow the outpouring of love from their larger community to hold them up while they grow through the pain.

Last night was an opportunity to witness many wonders.

When the young man was so obviously hurting, several men in the community stepped around the circle to enfold him, hold him in hugs close and strong, kiss the top of his head, speak to him softly. Men...big, beautiful, strong, loving men...doing what men in our culture have so often forgotten (or never learned) how to do...to care for each other, to nurture their boys into men with both strength and tenderness.

The young woman received the same kind of support, more from the women but not exclusively. And in both cases, the parents...the young woman's father, the young man's mother...both standing beside their children and feeling that pain as surely and as deeply, were encouraged and supported, too. I remember thinking as I watched the young man and his mother that it must be like giving birth all over again for her.

Part of the understanding that comes from going through our children's pain with them is that it is their pain, their growth. We share the pain, but we can't take it away from them, can't do it for them, and can't lead them to wisdom on a painless path. In my experience, that's been the hardest part of being a parent.

Earlier in the evening, a beautiful young mother and wife with a disease that causes her terrible pain was sick. A number of us tended to her as best we could, using touch and energy work to aid her. Later, when the young people were hurting so, she was right there, comforting them, sharing her own precious energy to help them through pain when she has so much of her own.

Love is a verb or it's a lie. My husband says that frequently and I've come to understand the absolute truth of it. Love acts. There are times when the only act possible or advisable may be a silent prayer, but even that is a conscious action. Answering honestly, can any of us say that we always act in love? Do we always do what we can, when we can, including offering that heartfelt, silent prayer when that's all we can do?

I can't say it, though I wish I could. It's a goal of mine to use my hands, my voice, my strength and energy to be a loving force in the world. I have to remind myself frequently that I can't do everything, but I can do one thing...that I don't know everything but that doesn't mean I don't know anything...that if I can't heal or feed or hug or tend the world, I can heal or feed or hug or tend one...now...with love...and when I have neither a dollar nor an hour to give, I have a voice with which to be an advocate.

I am but one, but I am not the only one. Love acts.

Love is a Verb - Possible Dreams International

“Each time a person stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope, and crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring, these ripples build a current that can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance.” -- Robert F Kennedy

"Love is a verb or it's a lie." - Jim Davenport

When people put love into action, it's worth celebrating. Whether it's a tender word, a loving touch, a meal, a pair of shoes, or a silent prayer offered when no other action is available, acts of love ripple and vibrate the web of life.

The folks at Possible Dreams International are putting their love into action in a time and place where it is sorely needed. One of my heroes in the blogosphere, Maithri Goonetilleke, and his fellow doctors, nurses, and other caregivers have formed an organization to further the work they've been doing all along in Swaziland.

Swaziland is an area of Africa with the largest prevalence of HIV/AIDS in the world. According to Maithri, the community of Setiki in Swaziland has more coffin salesmen than grocery stores. The stories he shares in his blog, The Soaring Impulse, are stories of love, courage, and hope.

I know all too well the despair of feeling like I have no power, no way to influence and alleviate suffering. I don't have a lot of extra money. I can't go to Swaziland. Each time I think these thoughts, I remind myself that even when I don't have a coin or an hour, I have a voice. I can speak loving words; I can tell the truth; I can spread the word.

Please take a moment and visit Possible Dreams. Learn about this fledgling organization and the beautiful people they serve. They are love in action, a verb and a truth.

Spread the word.

"Everything that is good and beautiful..." from The Soaring Impulse

One of my favorite bloggers and a personal hero, Maithri Goonetilleke, posted yet another beautiful reminder of our connections and our resonsibility to each other. I hope you read this wonderful story that includes the words...

Sometimes people tell me that the little things we do, don't count. That they are lost to the winds, like little leaves in a storm.

With all my heart, I know they're wrong.

Its like my father has always said: "Humanity is a spiders web. Touch the web at any point and the whole web vibrates."

There is so much more on The Soaring Impulse, and Maithri's heart is bigger than my little words can convey. Please, go meet him and feel the loving vibrations he creates on our web.

I am not "loud" and my blog voice is not widely heard, but I will add my voice to the music at The Soaring Impuse. I am grateful to sing loving harmony with my friend Maithri.

Don't Worry - You've Got the Good Vibration

We must find peace...

Enjoy.

Please Meet My New Friend...

...a man whose loving heart and spirit shine through his words. Dr. Maithri Goonetilleke is a medical doctor and gifted writer in Australia. His website, The Soaring Impulse, houses his beautiful poetry and his work toward growing love, compassion, and peace in the world. He is a bright light in the blogosphere and I encourage you to visit his site, read his words, feel his heart and mind and soul. You will be blessed.


Here is one of his poems, shared here with his permission:

Pick up your Pen

When the darkness falls

And you're just barely
clinging to a

single,

rapidly
unraveling
thread

on life's frayed garment.

Pick up your pen

And in the broadest,
boldest strokes
you can manage

Write the name of love across the sky

Maithri Goonetilleke Copyright 2007

Free the Word...Save the World

I ran across a charming website today called My Inner World. It's the gentle work of Michele Bernhardt , filled with pretty illustrations and thoughtful insights - nothing heavy or dense but worth a visit. 

Besides the pretty drawings and nifty Flash work, I picked up something really useful from the site. Michelle talks about the concept of "freeing a word" in her site, noting the power of words and the associations we form with them. Michelle says, "Words have great power. When you hear a word, act as if you are hearing it for the first time."  She adds, "Try not to allow one thought, one memory or a world view opinion influence your relationship with any word."

Though out of context with Michelle's work (though, I suspect, not entirely), my immediate thought was what an incredible tool for spiritual bridge building!   If we "freed" all the words we use for religious beliefs, spiritual paths, and those who follow them...removed the associations we have with those words and looked at each individual instance with fresh eyes...what might we see?  What blinders and obstacles to understanding might we remove?

Next time someone says, "I am a ....," or, "I follow a ____ path," free the words and hear them as though for the first time. Ask what they mean. Listen.  Freeing the words may not save the world, but it will save us from assumptions that create barriers, opening space to build the bridges we so desparately need.

Accountability and Compassion

Events of late have me thinking a lot about accountability and compassion.

We are all accountable for our actions. Nobody has to hold us accountable. We just are. The universe is made that way. When we make decisions and take actions, we put the universe into motion. You throw your rock, you make your splash...and then the ripples come. The old phrase, "It's time to pay the piper." comes to mind.

I'm not talking just about punishment, though there are times when that is one consequence of our actions. The ripples that are less direct are often more painful because they're so far-reaching. A punishment, like a jail sentence, for example, is finite. You do something, you get caught, you get convicted, you serve a sentence for X amount of time, and you're done. True accountability, on the other hand, has no time limit. It is the result of the universe set in motion by our actions. Sometimes the pain is direct. Sometimes it comes from watching others suffering because of something we did. It can be harsh and brutal.

Compassion is the act of recognizing that a fellow traveler took a turn that caused them pain. It's acknowledging that we, too, have taken and will take many such turns, and will suffer our share of pain. It's knowing that, inevitable as the consequential suffering is, it's the way most of us learn the most important lessons in any lifetime. It's actively hoping that the lessons are learned and not repeated.

We all pay the proverbial piper, all the time. And yet, when someone does something we clearly find unacceptable, makes a mistake we haven't made personally, and we see them suffering because of it, it's easy to feel superior. If we or someone we love were injured by their actions, we may even feel a little thrill at their discomfort. But is that good for us? I don't think so. It may not be possible to feel purely compassionate, but I believe we should actively cultivate compassion because it's spiritually healthy and emotionally healing. When I focus on compassion, it helps to keep anger, hurt, and betrayal from consuming me.

The definitive example of compassion, for me, is in the movie, "Dogma." [Heartsong's note: My daughter recently told me I have the actors/characters reversed in the following recap. I remember the story clearly; it's the faces that are fuzzy. If you are bothered by such (alleged) inaccuracies, be warned.] Matt Damon's character is an angel who has been banned from heaven for eternity. He and his fellow heavenly expatriate (played by Ben Afleck) have come up with a scheme to get back into heaven. It doesn't work and both characters go a little nuts when they realize they'll probably never get another chance to go home. Loki (Matt Damon) is now facing God (Alanis Morrisette). He has violated all the rules and now God's going to destroy him. He's is heartbroken and tearfully explains that all he wanted was to go home. In the silent interchange between Loki and God at that moment, we're shown the very heart of compassion. God looks at him with eyes that say, "I wish it could be some other way." Loki says simply, "Thank you." God nods...and destroys him. Loki was accountable for his actions. There was no escaping that. Yet the same God that understood there could be no escape from the accountability still felt the pain and acknowledged it.

We don't have to punish. The universe will do that. We have but to be accountable for our own actions, try to do what's right, and be compassionate toward those who are paying their piper. May they grow in wisdom as we, hopefully, grow from our own accountability.