Compassion II

I started my blog with this idea, and it is time to expand it.

parchment

Compassion is everywhere. I am no Meister Eckhart, no Simone Weil: I know this because millions or billions know this, because we speak it and live it, we hear it and delight in it, because it passes through us like a chain reaction, because there is God that is Love in every heart and every single human heart will resonate to this, however lost the person might appear.

There is the love crying out against oppression, Muslims encircling a Coptic church in Egypt to protect its congregation from harm, and #Illridewithyou in Australia in case Muslims are assaulted in public after an attack by a poor, broken, mentally ill man. More.

There is Love seeking to bring out the best in every human being, seeing school-children as worthy of respect and attention not needing controlled.

And- that was what I needed more than anything without knowing it, to be allowed to be who I am, given permission by someone so I could give permission to myself, see myself as valuable, not be continually concerned that I was getting emotional or the real me was showing through. I am no longer wrapped in barbed wire, needing to be careful of any movement in case I cut myself.

And now, I do not know. I remain open to possibility and learning. I rather like this idea, introduced here:

1000 voices

The idea started with this post, and a week later the facebook group of bloggers has 750 members. One thing I gain from that post is that I know to give that compassion which I know I have needed. Here is my earlier post on Compassion: has it value, unless it costs me?

Until 20th February, then, I will be thinking on Compassion, fellow-feeling, analysing for understanding and feeling more deeply into it, that I may practise it more truthfully.

7 thoughts on “Compassion II

      • Heheheh my Husby is Irish, my favourite childhood book is written with Yorkshire accents right through it, and I have more ‘Murican friends than I know how to spell at! It’s proliferated into my accent, and I find when I speak with them, I slip into a kind of hybridised lazy English, with hints of Southern. I still won’t spell with ‘z’s instead of ‘s’s, or drop my ‘u’s – those things hurt 😉

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  1. Pingback: Ripples, Waves & My Compassion Lens | Baby Gates Down

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