When did we lose the compassion, the ability to relate to each other?
I was on a walk this morning with my adorable puppy, and a couple was walking on the other side of the street. The man acknowledged and said hello after I did, but the woman did not. It hurt me that this person didn’t care enough to acknowledge me.
A few years ago, when I was lonely, living by myself and taking a walk in my neighborhood, a far-away neighbor put up their hand and waved. This small action filled me with life, so much that I made a painting about it.
On that day I thought: To acknowledge someone is to believe in them.
In the moment this morning, I thought about my sensitivity, and I thought what her day must be like. I suppose now that if I was in a terrible mood, I would not want to speak with a stranger either. But my question is, when did we become so involved in our own worlds, that we stopped caring about other living things? When did we stop caring about caring?
I have this dream that we can live as spiritual beings, detached from the complications and nurture only love. In this ideal world, we can be connected with the needs of the other, truly see and hear them- and feel comfortable with others doing these things for us. We are trapped in this cycle of “what we know” or rather “what we think we know,” instead of having the courage to question and the willingness to change. My favorite meditation and spirituality teacher Tara Brach calls this “the trance,” which can only be broken with compassion and curiosity.
Maybe my dream takes place (way) in the future, when all of the destruction has reached its limit and the only way to survive is to drop all of the things that we think we know. I imagine great big beings of light roaming the Earth and it's awfully beautiful.
Thanks so much for being here.