Tag: compassion

Thoughts on Freedom

If freedom requires kneeling on the necks of others, we aren’t free.

I wrote this post prior to the overturn of Roe v. Wade. When that happened, I contemplated scrapping this post and starting from scratch. But even in the midst of this hell in which we now find ourselves, the things in this post need to be said, too. So, for my full rant on Roe v. Wade, check out my post entitled, “Ladies, Welcome to Involuntary Servitude.“

The 4th of July always has me musing about freedom and independence. Naturally, we all value these things. Independence implies that one is not being subjected to outside control, and freedom is the ability to do as one pleases. We all deserve to have both, but when you are living in a civilized society and you blend those two concepts together, you have to add in a third one in order for society to function properly. That third concept is civic responsibility. Without that third ingredient, the recipe becomes a toxic stew, because not everyone is willing to play nice. If you only have freedom and independence, what you get are people doing as they please without any basic outside control, and, unfortunately, that often boils down to chaos and an attitude of “to hell with everyone else.”

As responsible human beings, we must make sure that the things we want to do are not causing others to feel controlled. In other words, my freedom and independence should not roll right over your freedom and independence. It’s okay to be selfish if what you’re doing only impacts yourself. But for the big picture things, we must be more generous.

I never thought that the golden rule thing would be a difficult balancing act for most people. Surely I am not the only person in the world who was taught about civic responsibility. When did we become so selfish that we’re willing to do whatever we want, regardless of how much it hurts others? Have we always been this way? Maybe I just wasn’t allowing myself to see this truth prior to 2016.

It’s all about weighing the pros and cons of every scenario and choosing the less destructive path. For example, you might want free and easy access to semi-automatic weapons, but if that means that innocent children are forced to do active shooter drills and are possibly going to die themselves or witness the death of their schoolmates, is that freedom of yours actually worth it? Statistics bear this out: countries with more gun restrictions have fewer mass shootings. It’s that simple.

Recently I went to see the comedian Hannah Gadsby. The show started extremely late, because the metal detectors that we all had to pass through had caused such a bottleneck that people were still finding their seats a full hour after showtime. Ms. Gadsby was kind enough to come out on stage and keep us entertained with some ad-lib during that time, which was extremely generous of her. But one of the things she pointed out was that she never has this problem when she tours in Australia. Congratulations, America. This is the society we’ve created for ourselves through our egocentricity. But enough about gun control. Let’s move on.

Another controversial topic: Women’s Rights. You might want the freedom to impose your religious beliefs on everyone around you, whether they agree with you or not, but is that freedom worth the deaths of women who are having such a complicated pregnancy that the birth of the child will kill them? Is that freedom worth reducing human beings into unwilling incubators for rapists? How can you feel free while plunging women and children into poverty, violence and dysfunction, only so everyone will march in lockstep with your beliefs?

You might want independence from big government, but is that independence worth it if it means that huge sections of the population won’t have access to healthcare, and the most poverty-stricken people among us will have a life expectancy that is 14 years lower than it is for the rest of us? Do you have the right to steal 14 years of life from a full grown adult who has parents, children, and siblings who will be impacted as well? And if America is so great, why do we have a lower life expectancy than 39 other countries? That’s pathetic. But as per usual, I digress.

You might want the freedom to bust unions, but is that freedom worth it when the average worker in a “Right to Work” state makes 6,109 dollars less a year than a worker in a free bargaining state? Do you care that “Right to Work” states have a 15 percent higher poverty rate, and a 49 percent higher chance of dying on the job?

You might disapprove of all things LGBTQ, and wish to stigmatize these fellow citizens, and block them at every turn from pursuing the very happiness that you hold so dear, but is that cruel desire worth it if it means that LGBTQ youth are more than four times as likely to attempt suicide than their peers?

You may not like the way an election turned out, but does that give you the right to attempt an overthrow of our very democracy? When did that become okay in your mind? Is it because we never call white men terrorists, so they can do anything that their hearts desire, including wanton destruction and threats of murder, and that’s okay? Where is the freedom in that, and for whom? This is not freedom, and it definitely isn’t patriotism. Being a fully functioning adult means you don’t get to throw a violent tantrum when you don’t get your way.

On this of all days, please make an effort to read the famous, albeit densely packed, speech by Frederick Douglass entitled “What To The Slave Is The Fourth of July?”

That speech is the most damning oration against slavery that you will ever hear. And slavery, of course, is the complete deprivation of freedom. The fact that this country condoned slavery for centuries is unconscionable. But read this speech, too, with an eye toward the present erosion of our rights and freedoms. It’s chilling how much of what he says applies to today. For example:

“YOUR HANDS ARE FULL OF BLOOD; cease to do evil, learn to do well; seek judgment; relieve the oppressed; judge for the fatherless; plead for the widow.”

Well said, Mr. Douglass. Well said. How pathetic that we still have to beg for the same type of compassion that we lacked even then. Have we not matured at all as a nation?

At what point did we decide that a complete lack of civic responsibility and a breathtaking wont of consideration for our fellow man was the best path to take to secure our freedom? How can we, as individuals, feel free while kneeling on the necks of others? When did bold faced lies become the most common currency that we use to get what we want? When did we start admitting out loud the belief that as long as we have what we want, everyone else can go straight to hell?

Think about that while enjoying your fireworks (which, by the way, are traumatizing our veterans and our dogs, but at least you’re enjoying yourself, so happy freakin’ 4th.) Think about that while many of us wonder if this country even deserves a party this year, or if we can really be considered citizens when our bodies are no longer our own.

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Did You Really Have to Say That?

A tale of cruel and unnecessary indifference by a religious leader.

Lately I have been thinking quite a bit about the surfeit of indifference in this country. It seems that with each passing year, more and more of us demonstrate an utter lack of compassion for our fellow man. No one seems to care that their words are hurtful, or that their actions may be putting other people at risk. They couldn’t care less about negative consequences for others as long as those consequences don’t touch them in any way. I just don’t get it.

Bad behavior seems to be everywhere you look these days. But I do have to remind myself that insensitivity bordering on cruelty is not new. What follows is a story about my grandmother, whom I never got to meet, as told to me by my mother, her daughter-in-law.

My grandmother’s mother passed away when she was quite young. Her father abandoned her, and she was raised by much older, childless aunts in Bellacastle, County Mayo, on the Irish coast. Apparently these aunts were rather no nonsense in their child rearing. Stern. The house was to remain quiet. They didn’t allow her to have any toys at all. (When my mother heard this, she gave my grandmother a doll for Christmas, causing her to cry.)

My grandmother came to America while still a teenager, probably to get away from those aunts, and she became a waitress in New York City. That’s where she met my grandfather, who was the owner/chef of the establishment. Apparently, he liked to tell her that the only reason he married her was so that he could stop paying her wages. If so, he was not the first to be insensitive toward her, and he wouldn’t be the last.

She couldn’t be blamed for thinking this cold cruelty was normal, given her upbringing. When their fourth child was about 6, my grandfather abandoned his family. My uncle’s earliest memory is of him walking up the street, carrying a suitcase and not once looking back. The man never paid one penny in child support, which must have been rather a tight bind to be in back in the late 1930’s.

But the story that sticks with me, the one that is the very definition of cruel insensitivity, is the following:

When my grandmother lost one of her children within days of its birth, she naturally went to her priest for solace, as she was a devout Catholic. She asked him if her baby was in Heaven. The priest responded that since the child had not yet been baptized, it was not in Heaven, it was in Limbo.

Because of that, and because of her beliefs, my grandmother got to go through life imagining that poor child forever trapped on the border of Hell. Not quite damned, but unredeemed by Jesus Christ. If her baby was in Limbo, then she felt that it must be lost, forgotten, unwanted, religiously cast aside. He was a helpless little baby, and no help would be forthcoming for all eternity. I can think of no worse concept for a devout parent who has lost an infant.

And yes, the Limbo of unbaptized infants was the theological concept of the most conservative priests at the time, but what purpose did it serve to tell this distraught young mother this? What good did it do to pile on even more grief? Should that be in any religious leader’s job description? She had done nothing wrong. The child definitely did nothing wrong. And yes, original sin, yadda yadda. But come on. There was no reason to be that despicable.

My mother told me that my grandmother did not step foot inside a church for decades after that. Seeing her in such pain did not sit well with my mother, so she immediately contacted the nearest priest, and asked him to come speak to my grandmother. (For the life of me, I do not know why her own children never thought to do this. But I digress.)

This priest was much younger, and was decades removed from the harsh condemnation of his misguided brother. He was of a much different theological era. He asked my grandmother one simple question.

“Did you love your child?”

Naturally, she said yes. And therefore he responded that her child was definitely with God.

She had decades of pain to cry out of her body before she could really form a sentence after that, but she did start attending Mass again. Of course she still mourned her first child, but now she at least got to believe that he was in a better place; a place where he was loved.

That second priest came from a place of compassion. He knew before he spoke that he was there to offer comfort, and he did so. I am not Catholic, but I would have loved this man for his pure decency.

Perhaps having heard this story so many times while growing up had more of an impact on me than I realized. I have always resisted rigid indoctrination of any kind. I chafe at dogma. I question authority.

People who refuse to be flexible and take specific circumstances into account before speaking or acting are anathema to me. I don’t believe any one person can always be right, and I have a hard time tolerating people who prefer to be right than to be kind. When someone shows you their soft underbelly, the place within them that causes them the most pain, even if you can’t relate to their point of view, is it really necessary to take a sword to it? Do you have to emotionally eviscerate someone just so you can be declared the winner of your debate?

If so, then we are all doomed.

This does not look like a fun place for a child to hang out in.

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A Redirected Maternal Instinct

There are many ways to love and nurture.

I never wanted children. Ever. And so I never had any, despite the thousands of people who have told me over the years that I’d change my mind. Well, I’m 56 now, am still childfree and have zero regrets.

Rest assured, I have never tried to talk people out of their desire to have children. I say go for it, if the spirit moves you. Even though I don’t feel the same way they do, I don’t view them as broken in any way. I wish they didn’t act as if I were broken in return. “I find it strange that you have no maternal instinct,” I’ve been told multiple times.

But I don’t see myself as missing any vital thing. In fact, I do believe I have a maternal instinct. It’s just not directed toward having children. There are many other ways to be loving and nurturing and maternal.

For example, I love dogs. I’ve always gotten my dogs from animal rescue, because there are so many pets out there in desperate need of a home. I view it as a win/win. A mutual rescue. And I tend to go for the full-grown dogs. Puppies are cute, but they’re a trial.

I also love my little free library. When I look out the window and see someone, young or old, excitedly choosing a book, it makes my heart swell. I enjoy promoting literacy in my community, because I think it makes for better, more well-rounded people.

And when I see someone hurting, I naturally want to comfort that person. I don’t care what the reason is. I just know that I want comfort when I hurt, so I want to give comfort when the tables are turned. Compassion is an organic reaction for many of us.

Recently, I rented mason bees (and blogged about it here). I love to quietly visit the bees and see them poking their fuzzy little heads out of their little holes. They’re so cute! I just want to hug them. But of course I don’t want to hurt them. I also love watching them fly over to my blossoming cherry tree to belly flop their way into the pollen. And I know that they wouldn’t be at that very place, enhancing that particular bit of nature, if it weren’t for my putting them there. Yay for nature! Double yay for those who nurture nature!

And speaking of nature, I love seeing the flowers and vegetables in my garden thrive. I love watering them on dry days, and I even talk to them just as I do with the bees and the dogs. I enjoy making delicious food from the harvest, and also adding beauty to the world.

In addition, I am very protective of the friends and family whom I love. Don’t mess with my peeps! I will turn into a lion!

So I don’t see myself as lacking a maternal instinct. I just see it as my putting that instinct to a different use. I hope it makes a difference. I know it makes me happy.

Happy Mother’s Day, dear reader. This day should also celebrate those nurturing souls out there who don’t have children. And I’m blowing a kiss skyward to my own mother, may she rest in peace.

My mason bees, peeking out to say hello!

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Have We Lost All Humanity?

How do you see this wonderful woman fall and not do anything to help?

This is my dear friend Carole.

Normally, she doesn’t look like this. Normally, her outer beauty isn’t this battered and bruised. You can still see the inner beauty, though, shining through her eyes. Look closely. Note her intelligence, her sense of humor, and her indomitable spirit. In her late 70’s, she still has a zest for life that I’ve come to love and admire since we first became friends through my blog about 8 years ago.

I’ll let her describe how she came to look like this.

“On Monday about 1PM it was bright and sunny, a beautiful day. I stopped just across the FL/GA line to get gas. I was thinking about the good times I had had with my family at Disney, and wishing I had a few more days with them.

“Well, the pump wouldn’t give me a receipt, so I headed inside to get a copy. Returning to my car, I lost my footing on the curb, and down I went. In slow-mo, I saw the sidewalk coming up to kiss me, and I heard the sickening sound of a hard-boiled egg being crushed on the counter, but it was my nose. PAIN unimaginable.

“There were 3 or 4 people pumping gas. I lay there maybe 2 minutes, checking mentally each part of my body to make sure nothing was broken, and if I was bleeding. Not one person made a move to see if they could help or even ask, “Are you okay?”

“So I went inside and the two employees asked all the right questions, offered any assistance and generally made me feel better. I hung around for an hour to make sure I wasn’t going to risk my life or anyone else’s life, then headed home.

“I accidentally missed a turn in Atlanta and couldn’t find my way back on the interstate. I stopped at a Jiffy store to ask for directions and the man started smiling real big. By the time he got the directions out of his mouth, he was choking, trying not to get out a full blown belly laugh.

“Back on the road home, after driving about 10 hours, I pulled into a hotel. I spoke to someone through a teller window to ask for the cheapest rate. She had this big smirk. $89.99.  I said, “That’s your cheapest price?” So I drove all the way home.

“I got home at 1:45 am. I am assuming that all the people’s reactions to me were because they thought that I was an abused woman on the run.”

Personally, I’m horrified to know that multiple people left my dear friend lying on the pavement and no one did a thing to help her up or check on her.

Recently, my husband and I saw a woman fall in a parking lot and we stopped our car to get out and see if she was okay. My husband helped her up, brushed her off, and made sure she was not in need of an ambulance before we left. Isn’t that what a normal, decent person would do? And yet I’ll never forget that 20 years ago my 92-year-old neighbor once lay on the sidewalk with a broken wrist for two hours as numerous people walked right past her.

So the fact that no one went to Carole’s aid isn’t that unusual. People just can’t seem to be bothered to do the right thing anymore. It sickens me. And the idea that people found her condition funny, that there was no empathy for her situation whatsoever, disgusts me to the very marrow of my being.

Is there no compassion left in this world? Don’t we give a fig about our fellow man anymore? What has caused such a lack of humanity? How do we get it back?

I’m ashamed of the human race right now.

By the way, Carole says she’s feeling much better. I’m glad to hear it. But it should have gone much differently. Lest we forget, we all fall down sometimes.

_______________________________________________

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Morality Doesn’t Come from Religion

The golden rule, though not always followed, is universal.

I get so frustrated when people imply that those without a religion-centered life are therefore devoid of a moral compass. Stuff and nonsense. I’m not a Christian, and my upbringing wasn’t particularly religious. Yet I believe in the golden rule. I think it’s wrong to kill and steal and lie and behave violently. I’m a law-abiding person, and do my best to do no harm.

Studies have shown (and this article in Scientific American describes) that even babies have compassion, empathy, and the beginnings of a sense of what’s fair. These things are within them long before any religious instruction is instilled. There’s even evidence that empathy has a genetic component.

Another article, in Psychology Today, posits the theory that we have a rigid moral code because that signals to the world that we are trustworthy. Trustworthiness, in kind, gets others to cooperate with us. Cooperation is how we’re able to survive. So those with a moral code are more likely to survive and pass on their genes than those who do not. That makes perfect sense to me.

What does not make sense to me is the belief that if I don’t hold your exact spiritual beliefs (or lack thereof for that matter), there’s something wrong or evil about me. The sense of right and wrong is a universal trait. And yes, there are people out there who are horrible and selfish and commit atrocities. It’s been my experience that some of these claim to be religious and others do not.

Horrible things have happened in the name of religion. Horrible things have also happened simply because that person was fundamentally a douchebag. It is what it is.

Golden-Rule-1

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Maturity

There are certain things that one is supposed to leave behind in childhood.

There are certain things that one is supposed to leave behind in childhood. Cruelty. Humiliating others. Petty revenge. Foolish pranks. Bullying. Laughing at others’ misfortune. Selfishness. Name calling.

I have a hard time relating to adults who engage in such behavior. I don’t find it funny. In truth, I find it horrifying. Such blatant lack of compassion kind of scares me, because you never know when it will be aimed in your direction. Be very careful who you consider to be friends.

I am particularly worried about those of us who are just entering adulthood right now, at a time when the leader of our country demonstrates most of this conduct on a daily basis and may very well be reelected. What kind of signal are we sending to our young adults when this is countenanced?

Now, more than ever, we need to model kindness and love and generosity. We need to be the lessons that our leaders are not. And we need to ask ourselves why we have such leaders in the first place.

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That Moment When You Realize You Have Horrible Taste

Hi, my name is Barb, and my curtains don’t match. My pillowcases don’t match my sheets, either. And some of the pants I wear to work are patched because I refuse to spend money on something that’s just going to get greasy. I’ve had pretty much the same hairdo since high school, and no one else seems to dress the way I do. I can’t be bothered to be trendy. I’d rather spend my money on travel.

I don’t wear makeup, I’ve never had a manicure, and I watch a lot of reality TV and true crime crap off of Youtube. I collect rocks. I also collect misfits.

I really ought to vacuum my car, but since I don’t even bother to wash it, what are the odds of that? And I’m sure my neighbors would say that my yard is in desperate need of attention.

The reason I appreciate my friends and loved ones so much is that they are willing to look beyond that surface stuff and see who I am. Underneath all that tacky sloppy stuff is a warm heart, a loyal friend, an intelligent woman with a killer sense of humor. I’m kind and compassionate and creative. And my dog loves me.

I admit I probably don’t make the best first impression. But I’ve always appreciated those people who are willing to delve deeper. Thank you all for that.

bad taste

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Who Was That Person?

Have you ever looked back at your past and not recognized yourself? As in, “Why the hell did I do that?” “What was I thinking?” “Why did I make that choice?” “How stupid was I?”

That’s perfectly natural. Because, here’s a concept: You are the best version of yourself right this very minute. I guarantee it.

How do I know? Do the math. At no point in your life have you had more life experience than you have right now. With every minute that passes, you are learning and growing as a person. Even the idiotic stuff, even the mistakes, the good, the bad, and the ugly, all combined, have turned you into the person you are right this second.

So of course you’re able to look back at your past with a critical eye. Not only do you have more maturity and knowledge now, but you also have the benefit of hindsight. When you think about it, it’s really rather unfair that you pick on the past you in such a heartless fashion.

Here’s a thought. Maybe give the old you a break. Look back at her or him with some compassion, and maybe thank her (or him) for getting you this far. Because life is cumulative. It’s a process. You’re getting there. Never stop trying. Onward!

Look Back
Only look back if you can do so with compassion.

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Inherited Wealth

Recently, on my online newsfeed, I saw an article that asked the readers if it is ethical to pass your wealth on to your children. I confess, I didn’t read it. Why would I? It’s not a problem that I’ll ever have. My parents didn’t have much money to pass on to me, and I don’t have any children. Problem solved.

But I did think about the issue from a philosophical standpoint during my next long commute. Naturally, Donald Trump sprang to mind. I’m convinced that the only reason he has money today is because daddy gave him obscene amounts of money to begin with. Donald Trump is barely literate and has no people skills whatsoever, and how many times has he declared bankruptcy? There’s no way he’d have been a self-made millionaire. The world would be a much safer and healthier place if his father hadn’t given him that leg up.

But on the other hand, it’s the average parent’s instinct to try to make his or her children’s lives better than the preceding generation’s. Who are we to deny them that? It’s their wealth. (Well… it is and it isn’t. I’ll save that particular rant for another day.) They can do with it whatever they choose.

Having said that, though, I feel the need to point out that with wealth comes power. If you’re giving your child power that that child hasn’t earned, then you bear a responsibility to make sure your kid is worthy of that power. (Trump’s father never did that, and now we are all paying the price. Lucky us.)

It’s every parent’s duty to instill a strong moral compass in children. They need to grasp laws and ethics and morals. They should understand the need for, and frequently practice, philanthropy. They must possess a certain level of compassion and kindness. Above all, they should have respect for others. With such an unequal balance of power being presented to them on a silver platter, they must be taught to avoid the impulse to grab things (or people) that don’t belong to them.

If little rich kids don’t have these qualities (and unfortunately many do not), then giving them an enormous nest egg on which to lounge is a disservice to the human race. Sheltering them from the real world, and coddling them from life, only produces cruel, dangerous, psychopathic individuals. The last thing these warped individuals need is for you to throw power, in the form of big sweaty wads of cash, into the mix. It creates a toxic stew.

inherited

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The Giving Gift

A dear friend of mine gave me the best Christmas gift ever this year. It was a card. A simple card. But inside, it said, “In the spirit of the season, a night of housing, hot meals, and hope at the Sulzbacher Center were given, in your honor, to a homeless man, woman or child.”

I love the Sulzbacher Center. It’s a shelter in Jacksonville, Florida, the city I once lived in. They do amazing work. So I got to imagine that for one night, at least, someone was safe and warm and not hungry. Someone could sleep without fear. That gift was really for them, but thinking about it made me feel really good, in the way that getting something to wear or to be forced to dust for the rest of my life would not have. My dear friend knows me well.

If I had children, I would make it a tradition each Christmas to give them a “giving gift”. But I’d take it even one step further. I’d let them choose what charity to give to. I’d make a card that said something like, “You now get to spend x amount of dollars on a charity of your choice.” I’d help them research charities, if they liked. Or they could pick a problem, and then choose a charity that’s trying to help solve that problem, such as homelessness or abused animals or disease in third world countries, or natural disaster recovery.

The giving gift would be an annual lesson in compassion for others and problem solving, and it would demonstrate that happiness doesn’t come from getting stuff, it comes from doing good. There’s no better gift than that. And it doesn’t have to be restricted to just one holiday. It’s great for birthdays or Valentine’s day or any other gift giving occasion.

Feel free to start using this idea. It’s my gift to you. And to help get you started, here are links to two of my favorite organizations, Heifer International and Kiva.org.

Happy Holidays, dear readers! And thank you for making this blog such a delight for me! You are truly a gift.

gift

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