Flunking Compassion

Last weekend I attended a Compassionate Presence workshop.  Like any community, we yogis share particular worldviews and practices that can be outside the mainstream.  Reconnecting with others who don’t think it is crazy to chant in Sanskrit even if we don’t know what the words mean, who have serious talks about breathing and loving-kindness, and who believe truly, madly, and deeply that all beings are linked to a Divine presence, is a way to reinforce our individual practices. Compassion is definitely yogi territory, and I was eager to find ways to bring it off the mat and into my other social worlds.

Not so fast.  After some chanting (see above) and introductions, we took a quiz on compassion.  Many of the questions were difficult to answer, as often happens on these kinds of quizzes, because there is no room for context.  For example, one of the statements was, “When friends are sick, I make a point of paying them a visit.”  Because I don’t necessarily want visitors when I’m sick, I figure that my friends don’t either, unless there is something specific I can provide for them. I will also admit to discomfort in being around people who are physically suffering.  Any response feels either inadequate or wrong.  That probably comes from wanting to fix the situation, and since the Dr. before my name is not the M.D. kind, I feel incapable of doing anything substantive for their health. 

Another statement was, “I drop everything to help my neighbors and coworkers when they are having problems.”  Again, I go back to my empathetic response.  I would feel terribly guilty if an acquaintance rearranged her schedule because I was having some kind of nebulous “problem.”  The only person I expect to do that for me is my husband, and since we go back 19 years, that seems like a fair expectation.  That being said, if my neighbor needs me to take her son to school, I’m happy to do it unless I happen to be teaching a class or have a meeting at that time.  To me, the “drop everything” is a red flag.  It is disrespectful of one’s own time, life, and plans. 

It is probably obvious why I scored five points under Low Giver (20^th percentile), which is where they stopped counting.  What would be the name of the percentile under that?  Stingy Giver?    I have not scored that low on a test since the quantitative section of the GRE.  Thank goodness that test had verbal and reasoning sections, or I never would have gotten into grad school. 

Just as the GRE measures different kinds of intelligence, shouldn’t a compassion quiz address multiple types of compassion?  For example, if there were questions about animals (“I have adopted animals from a shelter,” or “I send a little prayer for the souls of roadkill when I pass their furry bodies by the side of the road” for example), my score might be a lot higher.  Or, if there were questions for listening to friends and family members who are frustrated by circumstances or people outside their control, my score might at least hover in the “Low Giver” range. 

On the other hand, this quiz provided some insight into my willingness to offer and express compassion.  It is easy for me to feel compassion for those who have little power, whether they are Michael Vick’s pit bulls, abandoned children, or targets of domestic, political, or societal violence.  It is harder to feel compassion for grownups who make self-harming choices or who cede their sense of well-being and control to others and then complain about it (full disclosure—that’s one of my specialties.  Damn it!).   

While most of us—saints and gurus aside—are guilty of the above, Charles Eisenstein offers this wisdom: “I would surely do as you do, if I were you.”  This is beyond empathy, which simply makes a claim about understanding how the other feels. It is easy to feel horror and sadness for victims, but most of us would like to think that we would not have remained in the abusive relationship; would not become addicted to food, drugs, or alcohol; and most certainly would not have slapped a child.   Eisenstein says that true compassion starts with understanding that if you were that person in those circumstances, yes, you would have done those things.  It does not make everything okay; and it does not excuse behaviors that harm the self or others.  Compassion is the simple recognition that, as Lucille Clifton said, “Every pair of eyes facing you has probably experienced something you could not endure.” 

Thus, compassion is not about being nice.  It is about being authentic and accepting the world and people as they are—not as we want them to be.  Compassion also tells us we are all the same, deep down.  It is about offering what we can out of the kindness that naturally arises when we come from a place of identification instead of judgment, because judgment arises from a sense of I’m-better-than-you, thus I can fix this for you.

Deborah Adele writes, “Handling challenges gives each of us a sense of skill, self-esteem, and accomplishment.  When we try to fix or save someone else, we are keeping them from getting the learning the situation has for them.”  That’s my lesson from flunking the quiz.  I may not able to cure you or fix your situation, but watch out the next time you get sick.  I might be stopping by anyway.