Category — Altruism

From a very young age I didn’t think I was different, but I did feel set apart. There seemed to be some familial dissimilarity between me and my siblings who are an older sister and brother and a younger sister, born 4 years later on my birthday. Even with our shared birthdays, there still seemed to be a block between us.

I spent most of my inquisitive time with my father because my mother seemed to find fault with everything I did or said, including the dissenting mumblings under my breath for which I would often get a smack in the mouth. So I grew up under strained circumstances that made me aware of being in conflict with most of the people in my life.

Besides feeling separated from my family, my extreme thinness and gawkiness had an effect on friendships which limited my associations with my peers of both sexes. I was too quiet and introverted for the girls, and felt too unattractive and shy for the boys. As a result, I married the first man who came along when I was 19 just to escape my mother’s overbearing ways.

The marriage turned into a disaster with my husband’s infidelity, which coincided with my turning 21 and the happening days of the 60s. So for the next 13 years I lived a life of experimentation with drugs and sex, with people who had different slants, beliefs and attitudes unlike those with which I had been brought up.

My life continued its spiraling into the world of strong-willed activity until 1978 when I relocated to another state and sought a different spiritual path from the one I had been traveling. Although I found a deeper relationship with my concept of “God,” life wasn’t quite finished with me, and my period of metamorphosis was yet to come.

I met my “soul mate,” fell in love and added 2 more children to the 4 I already had with my husband. This man and I ended our violent and dysfunctional relationship involved in the throes of a civil child abuse case in 1988, and that  was when my life took a turn and my period of greater enlightenment began.

Sitting in court during the trial, and feeling completely anguished and sorry for myself, a voice spoke to my spirit and told me to “Pay attention.” These two simple words changed the perception of who and why I exist until today. I began to look outside myself at my life and the people in it to realize that I was not the only one “going through” something. The first victims I recognized were my sons and all the other children in their current situation of foster care or out-of-home placement.

There were many other parents, children and families just like me who were or had been alone, lonely, rejected, ignored and abandoned. But the voice made me realize that regardless of our circumstances, guilt or innocent, we are never alone. There is a supreme compassionate spirit, and my prayers which my mother said only went to the ceiling had not been rejected, were not being ignored, nor had I been abandoned. I might have felt lonely at times, but there was a power within me and in all of creation which had compassion for me and cared about my well-being.

The realization of the need to know that source of compassion struck me to the core, and from that time on I have felt it is my responsibility to give awareness of that source to others. So I blog about it and talk about it not only to those like me, but to everyone in which I came in contact, and I have become an advocate for those on the fringe, those considered “different.”

My understanding of the need to know about compassion goes deep into my moral fiber. I believe my experiences through life have groomed me for the mission I accept each day. If I am able to add value to just one life through the sharing of my experiences, I feel I have been able to extend the consideration that was shown to me. We are all human beings. One with the spirit of creation; and worthy of forgiveness, understanding, tolerance, and acceptance. But most of all, we are worthy of compassion.

When I awoke this morning, I had the words of my title in mind, but I was remembering an old Negro spiritual we used to sing in church. “How I got over. How I got over. My soul looks back and wonders, how I got over.” I remember my mother, grandmother and others singing it with gusto, thanking God for helping them to “make it through.” Then I typed in the words on YouTube, and found this song by The Roots, and it changed my whole attitude.

Rather than praise and worship, the words, music and images took my heart and mind into a totally different mood of distress, despair and disturbance. Tears began to flow, and my heart began to ache. For I remember, can almost smell and feel, the sensations of the people portrayed in the video; because it wasn’t too long ago that their plight was my own, and it hit too close to home.

I sit now, at my computer, with my heater going full blast in my cozy third-floor apartment overlooking a majestic oak tree, while the capitol building of the state of California is at the end of my block. There are limos, Lamborghini-es, and other luxury cars nightly pulling up to the restaurants, coffee houses and cafes that line my street.

Happy people sitting outside having lunch, dinner or just over coffee fill the air with their laughter and content. They smile and some even nod as I pass, thinking and accepting me as one of them, an equal. But I wonder what they would think about me if they knew that it wasn’t too long ago that I was homeless, living in a shelter with my two kids…friendless and alone? Would their looks be diverted away from me?

This is not the way I envisioned my day going when I woke up full of gratitude and rejoicing this morning. I had no intention of spending my morning revisiting an episode in my life that I seldom visit anymore. Not that I am trying to forget it, because I think it plays a significant part in my current sense of empathy. But today was not going to be one of those days when it would come back to me with such force, with a video as stark evidence that what happened then was real to me, just as now it’s very real to others.

But now that I think of it, both the rejoicing and the pain belong to me. I embrace them as value which has been added to my life. For without the pain there would be no joy. I would not know that it is possible to overcome and not be genuine in sharing that hopeful message with others. I would also not be able to serve as an example to those who think themselves above and beyond the possibilities of becoming like their less fortunate neighbors. It can happen to anyone.

There is a message for all of us in this, I think. For me, reminiscing keeps me grounded. For those who are struggling, I wish them God’s best. For those who are reading this, I hope it stirs something in you to reach out to even one in whatever way you can to those disenfranchised by the state of their birth or whatever life has thrown their way. A simple smile of encouragement will go a long way, and with just a little help one day those who are suffering won’t have to wonder how they got over, they will know.

Whether it is related to business or personal, whatever we do should be done from our heart. Conducting our affairs within an environment of compassion will be more worthwhile at the end of the day. Knowing we have made someone’s way a little lighter and brighter by just being courteous and helpfully supportive will add tremendously to our feeling of well-being to last a lifetime.

An example is a recurring situation between my neighbors. I live in a 9-story apartment building of 83 units. Most are occupied by one person living alone, and all of the residents are either disabled and/or seniors ranging in age from 18 to over 100. There is much variety in our ethnicities as well, but all are close to the same financial status.

On many occasions, holidays, birthdays, etc., we act like a big family. We also help each other during times of necessity; displaying much thoughtfulness. We share and recycle openly or anonymously; often by hanging a bag on someone’s doorknob containing goodies, clothing or other items.

But once in awhile tempers flare and harsh words are exchanged because someone feels that their charitable act was not appreciated in the way they felt it should have been. This causes the other residents to take sides, discuss the matter openly or in whispers, and generally creates an uncomfortable environment. These confrontations have even led to violence and police involvement.

This situation may sound insignificant, but when you consider it as a microcosm of events which take place in individual lives, in our workplaces, in government offices, even between countries, you can see how not doing things from the heart, but from the perspective of “what have or will you do for me,” can lead to great loss, division and disturbance of the peace, or cause war to erupt.

If we took the time to examine our motives, and if they lack true compassion, it would be better not to put forth the effort. If the cost of doing it wrong far outweighs the reward of doing it right, perhaps we should wait until we feel we are honestly doing it from our heart.

While surfing the cable stations, a familiar figure flashed on the screen and brought an instant smile to my face. He was dressed in his usual robes, sitting on a chair with his legs folded beneath him, smiling and laughing often. I felt like a child having a sweet frozen treat on a hot summer day as his words were refreshing and delightful. He is the Dalai Lama.

The name of the show was “Seeds of Compassion” on the University of California at Davis station. I had missed the introduction of the other four panel members whom the Dalai Lama called “scientists.” He also alluded to the fact that, unlike him, they were not “spiritual” leaders.

There have been few people I have trusted to be authentic and the Dalai Lama is one of them. He speaks with simplicity, clarity and confidence, and his words bring instant understanding without muddling my brain. The subject he was discussing was compassion which I believe to be among the highest attributes of humanity.

According to the Dalai Lama, there are two kinds of compassion. The first is limited and closed. This type we are all born with, and it’s only after we reach a certain level of maturity that arrogance gets involved and we change. Sometimes we become terrorists like Hitler, Bin Laden or the violent spouse next door. The second type of compassion is broad and open. This type comes with understanding that there is no difference between me and you. We are all equal.

When asked how to maintain the broad level of compassion, the Dalai Lama said the answer was in education, the “duty of the scientists” to figure out. But I believe we can all teach compassion. It is neither a spiritual or scientific issue only, but one that requires a holistic approach.

We should recognize that each individual is unique in many aspects and should be allowed to express that uniqueness in whatever facet of their life’s journey that does not conflict with another. For it is only in the diversity of opinion that conflicts lie, and compassion can define and equalize that multiplicity.

The best way to stop feeling sorry for oneself is to consider the plight of another. When the brightness of your self-pity is deflected from the mirror of your mind and you illuminate the path of someone else, you can stop squinting and open your eyes widely. Your light is no longer blinding.

But one of the most difficult things for a person to do is to turn attention away from themselves and devote it wholeheartedly to another when they themselves are confused or in pain. Being selfless is usually an act that requires a conscious decision, particularly if the other person is our equal or close to it.

We may sympathize with or be empathetic about someone’s pain. We may internalize or choose to ignore their suffering, but our reaction is based on how it will or does affect us. Regarding another becomes a personal matter of considering our own wellbeing first before promoting the caring focus toward the other person. We may eventually decide to put their need(s) before our own, but only after some thought as to what it will cost us.

It is not that we should dwell on our shortcomings as human beings, because we more often than not recognize our need to survive first and foremost, and usually make our determinations out of concern for our limitations. Therefore, in our interactions, it is normal to be well aware that we are not created to “be all things to all people.”