The Compassionate Life
Bringing home the lessons of the heart
March / April 2005
Nina Utne Utne magazine
THE OTHER DAY, the teasing at our dinner table went just a bit
too far. Three brothers (and their father) piled on at the fourth's
expense, and, though the moment passed quickly, it left a little
residue.
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As all parents know, teachable moments come at odd times. Later
that night I found myself in the wee hours, standing at the top of
the stairs having a tete-a-tete with one of the teasers, who had
just come home. I told him that, though I know him to be a kind
person, he hadn't acted like one at dinner. He agreed, and then I
took the opportunity to deliver a little life lecture. I told him
that I believe all the suffering and catastrophe surrounding us
offer only one possible survival route: humans evolving to become a
species that thinks and acts from the heart. Free will simply means
we have the consciousness to choose love or hate, moment by moment.
Whether we as a species ultimately manage to make a shift is
immaterial -- acting out of compassion is still the best game in
town because, win or lose, we'll have a better time along the way.
And all that, I concluded, is why it's important to be loving to
your brother. To my surprise and delight, he thanked me.
Since then, I've realized I was talking to myself at least as
much as to him. And I've been thinking a lot about the outpouring
of compassion to the victims of the tsunami. It's such a relief to
feel generous and openhearted, to be taken out of our worries about
war and terrorism and the direction of our country, to be able to
focus on a catastrophe that we don't feel responsible for.
Why does compassion flows so easily in some circumstances and
not in others equally dire? Marianne Williamson wrote recently,
'The hard and painful truth is this: For millions of people living
on this planet, every day is a catastrophe. From AIDS victims in
Africa, to citizens of the Sudan caught in the struggle of their
civil war -- and, yes, to both soldiers and civilians in Iraq --
life itself has become catastrophic. Where is our concerted
knowing, our collective response, our deep grief for those who
suffer through experiences that are just as catastrophic as the
tsunami yet more convenient to ignore?'