the cycle of compassion

I continue to observe characteristics and behavior in myself that, at times, surprises me.  I see this same behavior in others and my heart opens.  They say that life and the road to wisdom and understanding is a process and my process has had stops and starts,  great disappointments and great personal victories.  It may be surprising then to hear that, in the past, I never much noticed.  I'm not a special kind of stupid, it's just that the disappointments usually won out and that's where I hung out.  It was predictable, comforting in a odd sort of way.  I have found that my empathy for others, for my friends, for people was a way of resisting my own pain and worry.  Why, if I gave of myself to others, my pain would diminish or so I thought.  Now normally, this principle or technique works just fine with many saints attesting to the ideal.  However, what they don't tell you, is the teeny bit about what compassion really means; it has to be reciprocal to and by the person giving the gift of compassion.  The bottom line was and is, if you receive, in the act of empathy, pain and suffering and then release it or give with joy and compassion, the cycle does not complete itself until you give that joy and compassion back to yourself and refill the well.  I left that bit out...my bad.

Following the attack of September 11, 2001, I found myself, like millions of others, coming to a full stop.  I was incredibly lucky that day.  I was shaken, confused, hurt and wondering how this would change me, how my views would change, if they would change.  I bought books and spent time asking questions, talking to people, surfing the internet, reading the classics hoping that my now innate sense of serendipity would somehow reveal whatever lesson I was supposed to learn apart from the obvious; avoid falling buildings as a general rule of personal safety. 

I came across a book called, When Things Fall Apart:  Heart Advice For Difficult Times by Pema Chodron.  I must admit that I smirked when I read the title but threw it in my pile to purchase, took it home and there it sat for months.  I had the presence of forethought to understand that I would eventually get to a space where I could read it.  Buddhist philosophy was something I've always wanted to devote time to understanding but found that I never had the time to slow down enough to really commit to understanding it.  I knew it would take time and indeed, it took about nine months before I even tried to read it. 

I sat down with this book at a time when I had exhausted myself, pretty close to emotional bankruptcy, the psychological equivalent to the ENRON fiasco only I wasn't cheating anybody else but myself.  And I had been here before, again and again following the death of my fiancé, in 1989, a mugging in 1994, the death of my mother, also in 1994 my father in 1995, a layoff in 1999 and again in 2000 and a front row seat to one of the saddest most horrific days in American history on September 11, 2001.   During those spikes of raw emotional trauma I would over compensate, over give, over work, over eat and over drink and all in a vain attempt to balance the seesaw that was weighed down by hurt.  This doesn't work.  It can at times be fun, mind you, but it doesn't work and you end up being embarrassed, broke, tired, fat and hung over.  Not groovy and in fact, UNgroovy.  Imagine the seesaw simile with me sitting in the center of it trying to work to balance by over doing to the side pointed to the sky and suddenly realizing, (Duhhhhh),  that if I picked up the weight, held it in my hands and acknowledged it and then tossed it off, if I let the hurt go, I would be able to find the balance again.  Tricky physics though through a few shaky moments of trying to reestablish my equilibrium, I have been able to do this.  The strength and resolve I needed to attempt this feat came from an understanding of the idea and practice of Tonglen. 

Tonglen is the practice, the bodhichitta is where it occurs and it occurs in a noble heart.  Chodron continues,

" ...the discovery of our soft spot, [is] the discovery of the bodhichitta.  Bodhichitta is a Sanskrit word that means, "noble or awakened heart."  It is said to be present in all being.  Just as butter is inherent in mild and oil is inherent in a sesame seed, this soft spot is inherent in you and me.  Just as a jewel that has been buried in the earth for a million years is not discolored or harmed, in the same way this noble heart is not affected by all of our kicking and screaming.  The jewel can be brought out into the light at any time and it will glow as brilliantly as if nothing had ever happened.  It is said that in difficult times, it is only bodhichitta that heals.  When inspiration has become hidden, when we feel ready to give up, this is the time when healing can be found in the tenderness of pain itself.  In the midst of loneliness, in the midst of fear, in the middle of feeling misunderstood and rejected is the heartbeat of all things, the genuine heart of sadness." (87).

continued next week