Compassion for the Compassionless

Our ability to feel compassion is what makes us human – it’s just about the only thing that differentiates us from the disgusting slugs I carefully mince my way over on the morning sidewalk. And despite what the bleeding hearts within society will have you believe, compassion is not always a simple, straightforward, clear-cut or easily arrived at destination. Especially when your knee-jerk reaction leans toward judgment and cynicism (I’m speaking for myself here).

Our collective inability to empathize with others is just another reminder that we all suck as human beings. And I’m not talking about sympathizing with the usual suspects – the indisputable victims, those who are hurting or suffering, the weak, the vulnerable. I’m referring to individuals where compassion may not be our immediate gut reaction.

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I’m trying, people – honestly I am. But the viral video phenomenon has turned even the best of us into armchair critics – eager to analyze and pass swift judgment without so much as a second thought. For example – the drunken racist at Denny’s who berated several Afghan men one table over and the more recent poop-tossing lunatic at Tim Horton’s. Are either of these women worthy of some honest-to-goodness compassion? Of course they are. I mean aren’t we all guilty of suffering from a melt down from time to time, of being pushed to a breaking point – now imagine it’s recorded and goes viral for the world to see.

I’m not justifying racism or condoning feces-flinging here. I’m just trying to remind everyone that human compassion is the lubricant that can help society move on – it’s what will ease our consternation, stanch our vitriol and propel us forward.

Where human compassion is concerned, the tougher sells are typically the ones most in need – the bullies, the perpetrators, the criminals, the mean-spirited, even the downright annoying. Compassion isn’t necessarily a privilege reserved only for the downtrodden elite – it’s a basic right that all human beings deserve.

Remember, feeling compassion toward another person does not mean you agree with them or believe their actions are justified or right. It doesn’t require that you understand their motives or forgive their behaviour. It doesn’t mean you want to befriend them. As a matter of fact, you can feel compassion toward another person and still believe they are a perfect a**hole.

All that compassion requires is the act of metaphorically putting yourself into another person’s shoes, acknowledging possible reasons behind the behaviour and actions of another and actively working toward acceptance. Attempting to think more compassionately is a much healthier alternative to feeling obsessive anger.

Just like teaching our children good manners, compassion is another life lesson that we may have to actively work toward instilling in our kids. It is often something best explained, modelled and monitored until it eventually becomes second nature – to ourselves and to our children.

Compassion does not have to be automatic – it can most definitely be an emotion we talk ourselves into feeling. It can be something we think about and strive to achieve. It can take time – even years to get there. But luckily, compassion is patient.

Unfortunately, compassion can also be easily muddled. Even with the most compassionate of intentions, our actions and behaviour can still betray us. Our split-second reactions can temporarily overwhelm and confuse us in the face of individuals truly in need of a bit of compassion.

I experienced and witnessed this first-hand many years ago when I met a young man by the name of “Todd”. Todd had been seriously disfigured in a childhood accident. As a result, he was regularly the target of outright verbal abuse and ridicule. He also suffered from unintentional insulting behaviour – such as visible recoiling and pointed stares. Read more about this in my earlier post entitled Todd and Me.

I’ve come to a place in my life where I’ve realized that most everyone deserves a certain level of compassion from others. And as it turns out, I’m actually a quite compassionate individual. It has taken me time and patience and lots of practice but I truly believe I’m making headway. This slow and steady cultivation is still very much a work in progress. I remain easily pissed off – but then I remind myself about feeling compassion – and the impulsive sting fades – making life easier, happier – even better.

When my daughter was in kindergarten, she befriended a little girl. And as often happens, I became friendly with “Kay” – this little girl’s mother. We chatted on the playground and even in each other’s kitchens while our kids played together. In hindsight, it was obvious that there were warning signs early on in this fledgeling friendship that things would not end well.

Kay was extremely critical of another family who happened to live in the neighbourhood. In overtly harsh terms, Kay would routinely tear them apart. It seemed nothing was off limits – she would verbally shred their ethics and behaviour, their parenting style, their home, their rules, their jobs. And nothing I said on the contrary seemed to make a dent in Kay’s preconceived judgments (They seem nice to me. I think you’re being a bit hard on them). It eventually got to the point where I went out of my way not to mention this particular family and if their names came up in conversation, then made efforts to steer the conversation elsewhere.

Why did Kay behave this way? Well, I managed to draw my own conclusions – and whether they are right on the money or not, I’ll never know. But I truly believe Kay was lashing out due to her own insecurities and self doubt as well as a staggering amount of jealousy.

Things escalated to the point of no return (for me) when Kay organized a birthday party for her daughter. She invited every little girl in the kindergarten class – except for one. And what’s worse is that despite the fact that we live in an internet age, she sent her daughter to school with 13 handwritten invitations to be handed out in class for all to see.

Assuming it was an accidental oversight, the teacher stepped in and approached Kay about the exclusion of this one little girl. Kay was furious by the teacher’s insistence she not exclude this lone child. At this point in time, I could no longer keep my big mouth shut. I simply couldn’t fathom a grown woman behaving this way. I insisted Kay put herself in the shoes of this little girl; in the shoes of this little girl’s mother. I tried reasoning with her but it all fell onto deaf ears.

With the school year nearing its end – and knowing already that Kay’s daughter would be off to a different school come September I knew there was no reason for me to confront Kay nor call out her behaviour. I’d already reached the conclusion that nothing I said was going to change her mind or help her in any way going forward.

I made sure we were too busy to accept any of Kay’s future invitations to get together, then summer happened and I allowed our brief acquaintanceship to slip into distant yet polite territory.

I felt compassion for Kay as well as for her daughter. Her judgemental and punitive demeanour was going to make life rough for them both. I also realized that what came across as mean spirited and exclusive behaviour stemmed from Kay’s own repressed guilt. Rather than deal with her personal issues, she opted to exaggerate perceived slights, cast heavy-handed judgment, overcompensate and detract and deflect.

Whatever the root cause, it didn’t matter. I knew I didn’t want myself or my daughter swept into her dysfunctional whirlpool. I still see Kay from time to time in passing. Outwardly, I smile and wave. Inside, I wonder if she’s dealt with her demons.

Compassion for the compassionless — pretty impressive if I do say so myself!