It’s easy, at least for me, to feel compassion (and act up on it) when encountering someone less fortunate than I. The man sitting on the ground, by the entrance of the Starbuck’s on the corner of Broadway and 66th street, for example. I met him on Monday, as I exited the M104 bus to catch the downtown 1 train (let’s face it, trains are faster).
He wasn’t begging, pleading or yelling obscenities (as some of our street-living brothers and sisters are wanton to do). I asked him if he was doing ok, if he needed anything to eat. He thanked me and said he had just eaten a sandwich. Just a quick exchange, some human contact, we probably both needed it; to remind ourselves that we are human, that just saying hello is sometimes enough.
But I find it infinitely harder, for example, to be compassionate with those who seem to have it all. I know it’s a huge mistake and that how could I possibly think that just because someone is able to take a train (and it is fair to assume they are going to a place of employment, for example), that they are “better off.” What? Do I have x-ray vision? How arrogant and, more importantly, pretentious of me to think that! I must constantly remind myself to “be kind, for everyone is fighting a hard battle.” (Plato, Ian McLaren or John Watson).
May you be safe,
May you be healthy,
May you be happy,
May you live with ease.