It was as if
while I was driving down a one-lane dirt road
with tall pines on both sides
the landscape had a syntax
similar to that of our language
and as I moved along
a long sentence was being spoken
on the right and another on the left
and I thought
Maybe the landscape
can understand what I say too.
Ahead was a farmhouse
with children playing near the road
so I slowed down
and waved to them.
They were young enough
to smile and wave back.
This is my letter to the world – That never wrote to me-
I used to get upset with strangers who asked me for money, projecting onto to them an inner struggle I felt towards myself for having such a difficult time telling them “not today friend.” Yet each time I’m asked, and with the Omaha Gives campaign coming up shortly, I wonder again, about what it truly means to be compassionate, and my recent encounter with a homeless man in the Old Market has caused me to reflect once again how I continue to fail to live up to my aspiration to consistently manifest compassion, of which I know I am capable of.
It’s not that I lack compassion for the homeless and charitable organizations, just that, my compassion for them remains only a fleeting feeling. I don’t believe giving them money represents the most compassionate action I could take. I say this because the most compassionate action I could take would be to introduce them to compassion and kindness, a practice I genuinely believe has the power to help anyone, in any circumstance become whole, but I don’t do that either because it is woefully self-serving and akin to proselytizing, which I loathe.
I’m not just writing about and discussing homelessness and charitable giving with you. I’m talking about the part of me that believes selfless service is possible and that a selfless person would be overflowing with compassion. I’m writing about the part of me that keeps asking if there really is any greater value we can produce as human beings than to help another person to become happier. Because every time I turn down a homeless person’s request for money, ignore all the insistent ads about Omaha Gives … What I think to myself isn’t that I should have given them what they wanted or desire, but rather, exploring compassion would have given them what they need.
What am I trying to explain when I mention exploring compassion? For me, compassion requires both empathy and sympathy. Empathy involves responding to another person’s emotions with emotions that are similar to your own. Sympathy entails feeling regret for another person’s suffering. Compassion, on the other hand, is caring about another person’s happiness as if it were your own. The struggle I have with my very own definition, is how easily it causes me to mistakenly infer that compassion therefore means: Giving people what they want, well, just because they are bothering me at the market or begging via an online ad or an endless stream of emails.
I routinely find myself incapacitated by the thought of disappointing anyone. And though giving people or local organizations what they want helps, I feel it does not make them happy, it does so only transiently and usually leaves them unimproved, denying them the motivation to take on growth, and in turn, producing new challenges. Also, people quite often want what isn’t good for them. If our aim is to help others become happy and content, then we must apply our own judgment to the actions we’re asked to take on their behalf.
Compassion and kindness – Seva – remains my true path in life, although one I’m able to walk upon far less often than I want. When asked for money by strangers, my typical response is: “I don’t have any cash or change with me – Sorry.” But this is often not even true. I’m certain the reason I lie ultimately comes down to cowardice, though why I’m afraid to share with them the truth is not yet entirely clear to me.
An elephant herd of storm clouds
trample overhead. The air vibrates
electrically. The wind is rough
as hide scraping my face.
Longhaired rain occludes the pines.
This storm seems personal. We
crouch under the weight of the laden
air, feeling silly to be afraid.
Water comes sideways attacking
the shingles. The skylight drips.
We feel trapped in high surf
and buffeted. When the nickel
moon finally appears dripping
we are as relieved as if an in-
truder had threatened us and
then walked off with a shrug.
What could I say to you that would be of value, except that perhaps you seek too much, that as a result of your seeking you cannot find-
– Post inspired by a conversation recently, discussing compassion, kindness and intention. Nothing groundbreaking to be found below, just a few thoughts that really stood out to me personally and I hope they inspire you as well. The conversation started with one seemingly simple question: How can we communicate good intentions in our community, without them seeming woefully self-serving?
When we express genuine compassion and kindness, maybe leaving a note in your child’s Star wars lunchbox letting him know you packed a few extra cookies just for him? It’s your good intentions, not just your nice behavior, that significantly improves their day.
When we express ourselves openly, and smile, it truly feels awesome doing nice things for someone else. Although we need to be sure to let them know the “behind the scenes” feelings that are driving our actions. I tried a little thought experiment recently where, for example, instead of simply serving up a tried and true yoga routine for a friend. Rather, I said, “I know how much you love hip openers after a long weekend of riding, so I crafted this series just for you.” Our tone and physical gestures can communicate a wide variety of messages, so it pays to pay attention to them.
The more opportunities we explore to convey goodwill towards others – Family, friends, co-workers, some random rider or fellow classmates – The more the better! I suppose it all boils down to this: Being able to improve physical experiences, simply, by expressing compassion and kindness.
Grass grows in the night
and early the mockingbirds begin
their fleet courtships over puddles,
upon wires, in the new green
of the Spanish limes.
Their white-striped wings flash
as they flirt and dive.
Wind in the chimes pulls music
from the air, the sky’s cleared
of its vast complications.
In the pause before summer,
the wild sprouting of absolutely
everything: hair, nails, the mango’s
pale rose pennants, tongues of birds
Words, even, and sudden embraces,
surprising dreams and things I’d never
imagined, in all these years of living,
one more astonished awakening.
As long as I am breathing, in my eyes, I am just beginning-
There is more to a mindful “yoga” practice than merely showing up to class in smoking hot yoga pants, or spiffy shorts from Target, as in my case!
“Yoga” and more importantly, mindfulness – offer me the opportunity to reflect upon my “lifestyle” and the profound impact they can have on my life. Personally, in hero’s pose (vajrasana) or even while enjoying a peaceful morning walk (walkasana) – I notice my quads, feet, calves, hip flexors, and that my shoulders are normally all out of whack. Why? Years of neglect, injuries, competing and cycling endless miles a week has molded me into this present day, lump. Hero’s pose is a peaceful place to reflect on what I have done in my life, analyzing the ways in which “life” has shaped me over the years: Do this to run faster, train harder, eat this and not that. “Yoga” and mindfulness allow me the time to take inventory of my life in a nurturing way.
Hero’s pose offers me more than a good stretch. It offers me a wholeness – a oneness, and space. This ‘space’ is exactly what mindfulness can cause – and pleasantly so. It’s nice to say “so long” to things … Including ourselves.