From the Heart

I’ve always loved the New Year. And even though it’s still not raining and I’m still worried, the coming of the light and the sense of turning a corner into a fresh start feels hopeful and full of possibility. A friend told me The Farmer’s Almanac says we’ll have rain this month. I hope we do. I think she was trying to ease both of our fears with a little compassion and kindness.

A poem for the new year…

A Rabbit Noticed My Condition

I was sad one day and went for a walk;

I sat in a field.

A rabbit noticed my condition

And came near.

It often does not take

More than that to help at times –

To just be close to creatures who

Are so full of knowing,

So full of love

That they don’t - chat,

They just gaze with their

Marvelous understanding.

                                             -St. John of the Cross

Compassion is like that. It is the natural response of the heart to another’s suffering. When we can no longer close our eyes to truth of another’s suffering, when we’re willing to see things as they actually are, we can no longer look the other way and think “that’s too bad, I feel sorry for her.” That’s pity, not compassion. In fact, the Buddha taught that pity is the “near enemy” of compassion. I like to think of it as the “near opposite” because when I do feel pity and can’t face the truth of my pain or your pain, I don’t want to make an enemy out of it.

When I feel sorry for another, I still maintain a very real separation between us as a way of protecting myself from the pain of circumstance. But with mindfulness and time, we see more clearly. As the fog lifts, compassion naturally develops. We become more able to face difficulty, and our responses become wiser and kinder. As we really come to know the truth of our interdependence, we find that the only way to respond that makes any sense at all is with compassion.

Another poem…

Love Does That

All day long a little burro labors, sometimes

With heavy loads on her back and sometimes

Just with worries about things that bother only burros.

And worries, as we know, can be more exhausting

Than physical labor.

Once in a while a kind monk comes

To her stable and brings a pear,

but more than that, he looks

into the burro’s eyes and touches her ears

And for a few seconds the burro is free

And even seems to laugh,

Because love does that.

Love frees.

-                                                           - Meister Eckhart