The First Noble Truth

Image obtained from Wikimedia - public domain

Compassion has been on my mind a lot recently.  Synchronicity set in and I heard it talked about on the radio, caught passing comments on TV, found it appearing in conversation.  And then most recently, in a book--a mystery/crime novel at that.  In John Connolly's book Dark Hollow I read the following paragraph, spoken by the semi-retired burglar, Angel:

"...It's not enough to suffer, and you know that. What matters is that you understand that others suffer, and some of them suffer worse than you could ever do. The nature of compassion isn't coming to terms with your own suffering and applying it to others: it's knowing that other folks around you suffer and, no matter what happens to you, no matter how lucky or unlucky you are, they keep suffering. And if you can do something about that, then you do it, and you do it without whining or waving your own f---in' cross for the world to see. You do it because it's the right thing to do."

Our ideas of our own compassion, the times when we feel we have exhibited compassion, provide a great deal to meditate on.  It is not compassion to see the misfortune of others and express relief we were spared such suffering.  Certainly we should be grateful in those instances for our own blessings.  But pity springs quickly from such thoughts and can be confused for compassion in our own minds.  Nor is it compassion to express sentiments no matter how well intentioned.

Compassion in its purest form requires us to let go of our own self, of our own reflexes and responses.  Its expression is a form of meditation and an understanding of this reality.  An understanding that acknowledges the suffering and allows for selfless acts to alleviate that suffering.

Compassion is something we practice.  Something we are.  Something that changes us and the world we live in.  For the better.