Compassion Challenge

One of my favourite short stories is Tolstoy's "The Godson." It's the story I revisit whenever I find myself thinking that this whole world has turned a very wrong corner. 

I've changed a few details to make this super-abridged version make sense, taking out all the hows and whys of it all. Spoilers!

A boy wants to meet his godfather, so sets off on the journey and sees five specific events along the way that he later realizes are pivotal lessons about the nature of evil and what we should be doing with it:

1. A log is hanging in a tree, and a bear swats it away to get to some honey below. The log swings back and hits the bear, who then hits the log harder, and then, of course, it hits the bear even harder as it swings back. We can't meet violence with violence or it just keeps swinging back to us in equal measure. 

On the Courage to Care

It's snowing in Australia and Alaska is on fire, but what really worries me is some police overstepping the bounds of their authority. Just on my facebook feed today, they've punched a kid with autism, barged in on a naked woman illegally, and provoked or directly caused suicides in jail, and that's on top of all the shootings, chokings, and other unnecessary uses of violence against citizens we've been hearing about over and over.

First of all, Hedges talks about the pivotally necessary moment in revolutions when the guards of the upper class refuse to protect them anymore and, instead, turn around to join the people en masse. I don't see us moving in that direction any time soon. We need the population to be educated on how the current system works against most people, but, more importantly, we need the police (and the army) to be educated as well on their part in this bigger picture.  Hedges tells a story of being arrested at a demonstration and an officer quietly encouraging him to keep fighting as he's taking him away. Always a glimmer of hope somewhere I suppose.

But secondly, we are very likely to experience many crises in the years to come, and we have to maintain an attitude of fearless compassion through to the end.  It all makes me think of Tolstoy's story, The Godson:

In a nutshell, this guy meets his mystical godfather, kills a guy in order to save his own mother, then has to atone for his sins as well as the sins of the man he murdered. The bulk of the story is about this godson trying to figure out how to stop evil in the world, and he discovers he can't stop it by chasing it or using force against it because that just adds more evil to the world in the end. Evil spreads evil. He has to be still and stand firm and make sure his heart is pure and full of compassion, and then offer only love to anyone he meets. And this is all an enormous act of courage (from the word 'heart') because it's hard to stop following the rules we've been trained by, and, once we can do that, it's hard to stop being afraid of one another and to stop acting defensively or aggressively.

It takes great courage to think for ourselves and to care about everyone else.

In class once I was discussing all the different aspects of environmental and labour injustices in the clothing industry to try to clarify the complexity of these types of issues, and I illustrated it on the board with stick figures as I spoke. Then I solicited any solutions for each of the problems no matter how idealistic. And when I got to "get a PM who will stand firm against child slavery and sweatshops," I drew an androgynous figure with giant balls of steel.

In my classroom, I have an 8 by 10 glossy of Harper, which his staff sent to me after I sent numerous letters. It's like he's Justin Bieber, and a fan wrote to complain about a song lyric - all he sees and cares about is that someone listened to him. We need leaders who listen to the people, and have the courage to be principled even if it means lasting one-term only.

And when the leaders fail us, we need more of that First Nations spirit that refuses to tippy-toe around issues and flat-out demands justice, and we need to do it without resorting to attacking one another.

Of course we can ensure there are strict consequences against each individual officer who chooses to overstep his/er rights while serving and protecting us (just like we can shut down the tar sands and ban water bottles). This is all possible if we have the courage to demand it relentlessly.

On the Titanic and Tolstoy

I've heard this before somewhere, but I can't find it to give due credit:  Coping with climate change is like coping with being a passenger on the Titanic.

Some won't notice anything's amiss until they're well into the water.

Some will notice it's going down and decide we should continue playing until the bitter end.

Some will continue to insist it's unsinkable.  Technology, leadership, something will swoop in to save the day.  We mustn't worry ourselves too much.

Some will spend their energy insisting it's not their fault, so it's not their problem.  They'll sit stubbornly still in their belief that they shouldn't have to do anything to change the situation even as they feel the ship shift.

But others will get to work, and try to get as many people on the lifeboats as possible and abandon the luxury ship they're on for a better chance at survival in a smaller vessel.  It doesn't matter whose fault it is that it's sinking (past focus), nor that one day it might be fixable (future focus), but that right now people are in danger of great suffering.

And, although not a perfect fit, it reminded me of Tolstoy's choices of responses to the horrors of facing a meaningless death:

1. We can live a life of abject ignorance.  This is the lowest choice for the cowards and the weak.  These are the climate deniers.

2. We can recognize the hopelessness of the situation, but enjoy Earthly pleasures while we're here.  These are the many I met on various dating sites I've since abandoned, whose primary interests are travelling and working out.  It's Kierkegaard's aesthetic life.

3. We can recognize the meaninglessness of life, but cling to it anyway - afraid to die, but not living authentically either with a self-righteous focus on duty-driven ethical choices.  It's a fearful attitude, but more honest than the first two.  This is where Tolstoy claimed to be in A Confession, before his final epiphany and conversion.

4. We can recognize the futility of it all and commit suicide.  Tolstoy saw this as a noble option.  If it's all for nought, then it's weak to drag it out until it's taken from us as if we have no free will, no choice in the situation.

5. We can put our hands in a faith of some sort - and recognize that it's all larger than ourselves.  This is where Tolstoy ends up at the end of The Death of Ivan Ilych.  We give life meaning through a life spent living compassionately with others and for others, fearless of the end, fully in the present.


We have to keep working towards preventing the suffering of billions.  Luckily, if working and helping others, and enjoying others is pleasurable, then it's easy to do.  And living compassionately, Tolstoy makes clear, means pitying the people focused on things and appearances and social standing.  I don't like the connotation of "pitying," but he ends up with a great love for people whom he formerly hated for their choices and attitude.  I believe it's a position that looks at what we can do for others rather than one that sees only how others affect us.  But it's a struggle for me to get there when the action of so many need to change in order for this all to work.  The actions of so many affect our own survival.  As Diamond notes the "impossibility of convincing First World citizens to lower their impact on the world," it's clear we're on a Titanic, and we can only do what we can while we slowly sink into the sea.   It's not for us to fix it, but for us to try with ever an attitude of compassion while we work.

Something like that.

On Mindfulness

On yet another urging recommendation, I finally read The Miracle of Mindfulness by Thich Nhat Hanh.  But I didn't read it well.  I'm a picky reader.  I can immerse myself in difficult philosophy readings, but this was a struggle.  I happily read all about Montaigne's thoughts on mindfulness, but I was trying to read this mindfully instead of expediently.  I found it repetitive, and ended up doing much of the reading in front of a movie just to get through it.

He cautions against following philosophical doctrine:

 "If one clings merely to a system of concepts, one only becomes stuck.  [Instead we must] penetrate reality in order to be one with it, not to become caught up in philosophical opinion or meditation methods....The finger which points to the moon isn't the moon itself."  

Uh oh.  That's totally me, stuck following doctrines instead of... doing that other stuff.

Okay, I'm still not there.  I really appreciate contemplating on Taoist and Buddhist thought, but I can't bring myself to set aside the time and attention necessary to live it as thoroughly as this book suggests.  Even trying to do breath-work for a minute a day is a struggle for me.  And I hate yoga.  Part of the reluctance might be that I was really into it all as a teenager, so doing it now feels like I'm trying to be a kid again.  I feel like I should be past all that now.  But I still got something out of my superficial reading of the book:

The whole book and theory is about maintaining awareness of the present.  If you're not present right now, then you're not really alive right now.  There was a Tolstoy story that I loved.  The moral is that the most important time is now, and the most important people are whomever you're with, and the most important thing to do is to bring joy to the people you're with - even if it's your enemy.  In the story, the person learning the lesson ends up saved by unwittingly helping an enemy.  It's similar to other Tolstoy stories.  Don't bother with revenge, just don't add any more evil to the world.  

Thich Nhat Hanh suggests we don't look at life divided into parts that you give to others, at work, with kids, etc.  Each moment you spend with others is your own time that you get to spend with others.  You have unlimited time for yourself.  It's all for you.  That's a useful perspective to keep in mind when I feel like people are draining me because I have something else I'd rather be doing.  I'm impatient whenever I'm not really here right now.

It's all a matter of perspective.  When my kids were babies and up all night sick, as I'd walk the halls jiggling and patting the little one, I'd tell myself that this is a great opportunity to hug my kids.  When they're older, they probably won't let me hold them for hours and hours (and hours).  It really helped me to appreciate the time instead of becoming bitter or complaining.

Once I took my then 3-year-old to the dentist.  She wanted to walk, so we left the stroller at home.  On the way back home after a stressful afternoon of waiting and all the excitement of a new experience, she wanted to be carried and promptly fell asleep in my arms.  While I carried her the many blocks home, I imagined I was running a marathon with fans cheering me on at the edges of the sidewalk.  That fantasy helped me carry on, to feel strong, proud and grateful for the exercise I got instead of miserable from the burden of a heavy child. It was a useful delusion.

There was a good little parable about lettuce.  If the lettuce doesn't grow well, we don't blame the lettuce.  We blame the sun or rain or soil or rocks or bugs or rabbits.  We should be as compassionate with people when they "are still imprisoned by false views, hatred, and ignorance and continue to create hatred, and ignorance and continue to create suffering for themselves and for others."  And we should have compassion for ourselves too, of course.   Take "care for one's self, not being preoccupied about the way others look after themselves, a habit of mind which gives rise to resentment and anxiety."

Montaigne suggests we maintain mindfulness by writing about what's happening right now, and just by really paying attention to what we see and hear.  That's doable for me.  It's a start.  But I'm still going to mentally multitask from time to time, still going to think about life and ideas while I do dishes instead of just doing dishes.  And that's okay.  I can try to really be with people when I'm with people, but the dishes are less affected by my attitude.  And I like to think.