Patience and Compassion -

"I feel that compassionate thought is the most precious thing there is. It is something that only we human beings can develop." -the Dalai Lama 

A friend of mine recently posted the above quote from the Dali Lama to her page and it made me begin to think about a personal change I have been actively working to make in how I interact with the world around me.

Several months ago I attended a candlelight vigil in a public park for the victims of a terrible disease, where two women got up as a part of the program and offered a prayer and meditation asking G-d to grant us all compassion for those around us and it made me begin to think a lot about how I react to people in my daily life. Not just patience and compassion for people in a single group or who may have a single illness, which can be any easier thing to do, but to develop patience and compassion for individual people I encounter in general.

In today’s busy world how do any of us know the conditions, circumstances, or motivations of strangers we encounter? People often appear thoughtless or self-focused, but how do we each know if they do not in fact have some underlying concern filling their mind.

The woman in the grocery store line who is taking a long time to argue with the clerk about the price of each item or whether each of her coupons is good or not can be frustrating when you are caught behind her. But how do you know if she is shopping that way because of financial stress, to buy for a local shelter, or because of other problems in her life? Is she really impacting my life by take three or five or eight more minutes in front of me? Not knowing the circumstances that brought her to that spot at that time shouldn’t I exercise patience for her and compassion for the situation?

The person who cuts you off in traffic- do I know what burdens may be on their mind? Could they be ill or have an ill loved one? Could they be in the position of loosing a home or job? Are they distracted by the everyday worries of life and just getting by? Which one of us has not driven in a distracted mood or honestly made a lane change that perhaps wasn’t the nicest, but without any malice intended to those drivers around us because something serious that was on our mind? Has that person really ruined my trip or day by making me seconds later getting to the next intersection or light? Usually not. Why not treat them with patience and compassion- it costs me nothing but a moment in time.

When you see a homeless person on the street begging for change at a light it is far too easy to make the quick judgment of ‘Why doesn’t he/she just get a job and get off the street?”, but can I really know what has brought them to that place? Loss of a job due to the economy in spite of years of good skills? Addiction to alcohol or drugs which they have been unable to conquer? Mental illness of which they are either unaware or for which they have not/can not seek treatment? While I may not have the ability or desire to hand them money from my passing car do they not in fact deserve my compassion and patience rather than my dismissal and scorn? There but for grace could any of us find ourselves.

This whole process can be the most difficult when it is someone with whom you are acquainted who appears to be trying to cause a frustrating problems, or being unwilling to help themselves. Take for example the elderly mother of a good friend of mine. She always seemed to be the bitterest and meanest person I had encountered in many years, going out of her way to make people around her feel badly and belittled. Then it occurred to me- here is a woman who after being able to live on her own for many years has been relocated out of her own home to another city because she could not take care of herself any longer. As an independent individual she had now become dependant on the daily care of other people, from the preparation of the food she ate to the cleaning of her home, and virtually every move she could make. She was lucky to have had a loving child willing to care for her, but how hard must it have been to give up almost all independence after years of life as a functioning adult. Suddenly it became easier to have compassion for her and those around her. After all who of us would easily accept having to admit we could not perform the basic functions of life for ourselves any longer. Working to build compassion for her in my mind did not make her any easier to be around, but led me to think much better of her before she died quiet suddenly- and caused me to pray that she had finally found peace, and that her family can find solace in the fact that she is no longer suffering..

I am not advocating allowing people to take advantage of us as individuals and walk all over us, I am simply suggesting that we each take a breath, step back from each and every situation that may irritate us, and consider what the circumstances of the other person may be. It only takes a moment, a mental pause, and wouldn’t we want people to do the same for us? I am not so self-centered as to think that every stranger has added me  personally into the equation of each move they make around me; I am, not the center of their world or anyone else’s. In fact they may not even see me.

Taking time through the progress of each day to stop when I have the common reaction of being annoyed or angry at something a stranger does, to temper my thoughts with “No, I don’t know their circumstances and should have patience and compassion of them’ is making me a calmer, less stressed, and more spiritually aware person.

Remember, there but for grace goes you or I…

What children know-

Children know when they are raised and cherished in the midst of a loving family. I was lucky to be raised by caring adults, both immediate and extended relatives. Adults who took the time to really talk with me, not to me, and took an interest in what I liked.

Holidays were spent with family members from both my father’s and mother’s sides- from gala Christmas Eve parties to peaceful Easter dinners. The two sides of my family were not close and often didn’t seem to understand each other well, coming from such different backgrounds and places, but they were always there standing on both sides of my life enclosing and defining my world with love and affection.

Every Sunday we visited my mother’s mother and in those golden afternoons I enjoyed her small town home and learned about her parents and the farm we owned from 1846 until the early 1960s. Time and time again she would take out the old box of photos and tell me who they each were. Years later when those photos passed to me I realize I knew them as “Aunt Ida & Uncle Pete” or “Aunt Minnie and Cousin Nix”. It was unexpected when I realized those names were of course in relation to my grandmother, so that Aunt Ida was in fact my great-great-aunt. They had always seemed current relatives just out of view. It gave me an appreciation for the love my grandmother had for her family and its history. I had never really given it a thought before- her people were simply my people regardless of when they lived

On Saturday’s as a child I was almost always collected by my father’s unmarried sister as they hurried home from beauty shop appointments. Those days were spent with extended family giving me my heart’s desire, with trips to parks or zoos or museums, wherever I wanted to go. They would deliver me to my parents home in the evening, a tired and excited and happy boy. In summers they took me on vacation trips to caverns and historic sites until we hurried home a few weeks before school would start, often in a car loaded with souvenirs and memories.

What children do not know naturally is to judge based on the prejudices of society or personal politics. They take at face value the affection and pleasant times they experience and don’t question why or how or who.

I took for granted that the happiest and youngest of my father’s sisters, who carried me around on Saturdays and took me on those trips, was always accompanied by her friend Wilma wherever we went. They had known each other for decades and to everyone Wilma was simply a part of the family. Very young I used to laugh when waiters in restaurants always called Wilma “Sir”, not thinking about her black pleated pants or starched dress shirts. She never carried a purse, but a wallet like my father’s, that always seemed to have just enough cash to do whatever we wanted. I never thought it odd that on the rare Saturdays when I got to spend the night at The Aunt’s home that Wilma didn’t stay in the guest room but always with Aunt Liz, sleeping in white tank tops and boxer shorts. I took it at face value that all was as it should have been and we all loved each other as members of the same family.

It never occurred to me until Aunt Liz’s funeral my first year of college; the first occasion that I ever saw Wilma in a skirt. Suddenly the light came on to me and I marveled that their relationship had always been hidden in plain site. That day Wilma said the most amazing thing to me. As we left the graveside she pulled me aside and said, “Don’t ever let them make you unhappy, always follow your heart.” It was amazing to suddenly know what I had in front of me and didn’t see until it was gone.

Afterwards I sometimes wondered, would my mother’s mother have recognized or understood Aunt Liz and Wilma? Would she have approved or even seen what was there? Probably not, but those kinds of facts did not enter her country view of the world. It was not something that she could have even seen or comprehended, and certainly never would have discussed. It didn’t make her any less of an accepting person, she only knew what her life experience had shown her. For my grandmother, and for Aunt Liz and Wilma, all was as it should have been within their own worlds.

What I knew as a child was that I had a family that loved and cherished me, in town and country, at all times. That unconditional love gave me the ability to dream and become whatever I wanted to be, for which I owe them all a debt of gratitude forever.

Wilma,  Aunt Liz, and One Happy Boy