Chasing Compassion

I always though compassion was one of those desirable traits, even a virtue, that you could feel for others. And even though I've talked the compassion talk for so many years, I have also walked the walk. I feel compassion for a person or a group of people, and I go and do something about it. You can google all my good works, I'm not interested in doing a CV of my compassionate activities.And I feel so much compassion for so many people in my life!

Is compassion even a good thing?  

The Dalai Lama says this: 
"From my own limited experience I have found that the greatest degree of inner tranquility comes from the development of love and compassion." 

Albert Einstein says this: 

"Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.”

And James Baldwin said this: 

“There are so many ways of being despicable it quite makes one’s head spin. But the way to be really despicable is to be contemptuous of other people’s pain.”

So, I guess if you're going to listen to some great thinkers of our time, you will decided that compassion is worthwhile... 

Feeling for others and doing kindnesses is a good thing. Putting yourself in others' shoes is a good thing. Getting out there and helping people is a good thing. 

All this is true, my friends. But what about compassion for yourself? What about ME compassion? Because if you don't do it, there's a chance that no one else will either. And what's at the root of compassion, fundamentally? Our own desire for happiness. The Dalai Lama himself says that the true route to happiness is by exercising compassion. I know that I feel really great when I do something kind. And its good: to be spreading love and kindness; to be compassionate; to love all the creatures as they are.

I'm starting to think about gratitude these days. Compassion is something that we can feel for others, and it makes us feel good, and it almost makes us feel proud of ourselves. But gratitude, I think, is a "cleaner" sentiment. When I feel gratitude, I'm not involving anyone or anything else in my emotional life. I'm just beinf grateful for what I have, or what I'm experiencing, or how I feel. Gratitude can come upon us without us willing into being. Compassion is something we learn, that we actively do.

You could say that gratitude is learned as well: we teach children to say thank you by saying thank you to them (at least I did). But I think gratitude is part of us. Humans feel gratitude when we look around at our beautiful world. Or at least I do. 

Anyway, the most important thing about Gratitude is that I'm wondering if its actually what keeps us alive. When we fail, when we despair, when we feel like shit and feel like there will never be a way out, a spark of gratitude is often what we can use to save ourselves from self-pity and despair. And when I've seen people really suffering, people who have really lost hope, when someone is in the darkest pit of despair, I see that their gratitude reflex is weakened. It's so hard to be thankful for anything when you are gripped by such a deep despair, and yet it is that spark of gratitude that can leave you with a tiny bit of joy that can keep you going until you finally can climb out of that hole.

Maybe I'm just going batty in my crone years, but I'm mostly grateful for everything. I'm finding it's just not worth it to be angry or to hold a grudge or to feel resentment or to want revenge. I'd rather head into the countryside and go for a long, long run, and feel the fresh air around me and feel grateful to be alive.

COVID19 in-house Day 9: Fuck This

This situation has got me thinking: thinking about all the facades and masks we usually wear. We don't walk around with hospital masks on; we wear our social masks that tell everyone who and what we are. I feel my mask slowly slipping off.

I moved to Montreal from a small organic farm in Umbria, where I had four young sons, hens, ducks, geese, a dog, a cat, a vineyard, a garden, a wheat field, and a busy and productive life. In 1996 I joined a cult (shame, shame) that brought me to Montreal.

Once here, I devoted myself to accompanying mothers through childbirth. I taught prenatal classes, provided support to women in labour, and visited families postpartum. I studied how to be a doula and then how to be a midwife. I started a school that taught the art of doula work. I founded a volunteer organization that provided doula services for free to marginalized women. I probably assisted over 1000 women, one way or another, in their birth experiences. I retired from that work when I realized that working in a broken maternity care system was wreaking a huge emotional toll on me. I was angry all the time. I hated the fucking hospital, and started to hate the women themselves for being such stupid sheep, being led to the operating room to have their babies cut out when they didn't have to be ... and who was the bad guy? Me! Because I didn't somehow prevent it from happening....

And my volunteer organization, well, that suffered too from my anarchist tendencies... we had no structure in place to handle (an inevitable) a sexual assault that happened to two volunteer doulas... and so everyone broke up, traumatized and confused.

But hey! I'm a survivor! So I decided to open a cafe... we would serve healthy food, vegetarian and vegan... good food, like what I used to make on the farm, and we would provide a space where everyone could come and eat, feel safe, be happy, man it was gonna be good!

Good Vibes

And it WAS good! We opened on June 8, 2015. We had some idealistic ideas when we first started,  that we scrapped. We started with sandwiches and soups, that we scrapped. We changed and grew organically based on what worked for our customers. We were doing well enough that I had time to spare to help others. I left for Greece in January 2017 to use my midwifery skills to help the Syrians who were pouring into Greece. The cafe survived without me. And continued to survive, and thrive, until about ten days ago when I decided to close because I know about infections ... clearly I didn't know enough. I had no clue that we would be closed as long as it looks like we will be closed. I had no idea that my cafe would be brought down by a virus. 

I didn't know how much I would miss my sons who are living far away. I miss my friends, especially the ones who are already living through difficult times. I miss my normal life. I miss doing half-marathons and marathons. I miss having small things to worry and complain about.

I don't know what's going to happen. Every time I cough I freak out inside. I worry about myself, my family, my friends, the world. I didn't know how much our lives would be changed, and obviously I don't know how much they will be changed in the future. I don't have a crystal ball. I don't have a foolish belief that Allah will save me if I don't tie the damn camel to the tree tight enough. I hope the rope will hold.