Compassion Is For Sissies

I made it through Thanksgiving, and as a long time vegetarian recently turned vegan, it has become increasingly harder with each passing year. I cannot stand to see the freezer filled with Butterballs. But I shied away from writing about the mass of feelings surrounding the deaths of millions of birds and the resulting pictures that filled my Facebook newsfeed. Why? Because sometimes I feel as if compassion is mocked in our society. Men are called sissies for crying, women hysterical. We don't let our sensitivity show lest we are called weak. I do not see mobs of people sobbing in front of the lobster tank at Price Chopper. We kill. We kill people, we kill animals, we value killing. People cheered when Osama Bin Laden was killed. Many of us support the death penalty. And most of us eat dead cows, pigs, chickens and turkeys. Vegetarian Times Magazine released a study in 2008 that stated: "...3.2 percent of U.S. adults, or 7.3 million people, follow a vegetarian-based diet. Approximately 0.5 percent, or 1 million, of those are vegans, who consume no animal products at all. In addition, 10 percent of U.S., adults, or 22.8 million people, say they largely follow a vegetarian-inclined diet" (Vegetarian Times). Not a large percentage of the population. It is 2014 and if that study were repeated it might show an increase of vegetarians out there, but it is still just a drop in the bucket. I admit, I am a sensitive person, and sensitivity seems to be undervalued in our culture. If I were to say that every time I saw meat in a supermarket I felt upset, or that when I thought of baby cows taken away from their mothers to make dairy products, I teared up, you might call me insane. Who cries over milk, spilled or in a glass tumbler? Is there such a thing as too sensitive? I hope not. Dr. Nalini Chilkov explored the process of creating a compassionate society in her article on the Huffington Post. Although the article is based on the practice of Buddhism, she wrote: "The path to a compassionate society arises from the intentions and actions of individuals within that society. One small act of kindness and generosity ... one act of tenderness ... one act of selflessness ... each of these moments makes a difference. No act is too small." Maybe what is important for me today is to value my own compassion, and my own sensitivity. It is a big part of who I am. The trick is to suspend judgement of others, because that is not compassion at all. I choose to eat plants rather than animals. Maybe you are a carnivore. I value compassion today, but that doesn't mean that you do not, although in my mind I am screaming at you. And if you see someone crying in the meat department, please don't judge.

That where there is doubt, I may bring faith

I doubt, I always doubt. I am standing on the edge of a cliff, fog rolling in, the sounds of waves crashing against rock in the distance. Do I take a step? My doubt comes out of fear, fear is the root of all I do, or do not attempt. I am currently unemployed without the safety net of unemployment insurance. I have no source of income. So I doubt because I am afraid, I am terrified of losing my shelter, my car, my possessions. But I also have a list of all of the ways that my Creator has taken care of me in the past. I have, on numerous occasions, stepped off the cliff only to land on a feather bed, with lavender scented silk sheets. I could have never imagined as I took the terrifying step that I would fall on plush comfort. That was faith. Today I go to my past, to the instances where God has guided me down dark alleys and helped navigate through uncharted waters. In order to bring faith however, I need to get quiet, the swirling thoughts do nothing to guide me, they contribute to my fear and worry. It is in the stillness, as I stand on the side of the road during a five mile run watching a great blue heron silently wait for its lunch, that I know the next step, even if it is to take a step away from the edge, back up and readjust. The answers always come, piecemeal yes, but they come in the intuitions that prompt me to send another email or call this friend, or reach out for help. The faith comes in the stillness, in meditation, in the present moment. When there is doubt, may I shut up and listen. Faith comes to me when I am not frantically reaching for it. Today I will shut up, I will watch for the heron, I will thank God for this beautiful day and I will know what the next step will be.

Plowing the Road to Happy Destiny

Whenever one thinks of this journey we call life, one may always call to mind a reference to a road. After all we travel from destination to destination following paths laid down by people who came before us. We have all used this road metaphor. Seneca said, "It is a rough road that leads to the heights of greatness."  Agree, although paving might be an easy solution. Someone else once said that the road to happiness was paved with good intentions and The Road Less Traveled by M. Scott Peck has just celebrated its 25th anniversary. Even Dan Quayle tried to use the road metaphor, unsuccessfully, when he said, "My friends, no matter how rough the road may be, we can and we will, never, never surrender to what is right." Charles de Lint stated, "When all's said and done, all roads lead to the same end. So it's not so much which road you take, as how you take it." So life is a journey, you can bushwack or take the well traveled path, or the road less traveled or just skip the journey and have seat, eat an ice cream sundae and wait for folks to come to you. However I digress. An anonymous friend of mine wrote that he wanted his friends to join him as he trudged the road to happy destiny. I think I will, although first I see my road needs a good plow. Cleaning my side of the street might not be enough, I need a large state vehicle with extra long plow and studded snow tires. Because my mind is running, 24 hours a day and keeps dumping crap in the way. "I'm not good enough." Or, "life is hard, and scary." Sometimes even, "I can't do this anymore." I spent an entire day wallowing in the fact that I forgot to turn an assignment in, which made me an impossible failure. Where do I find a snow plow in these parts? Unfair question in New England I suppose, but instinct tells me I can find it in God, in prayer and meditation. I can find it by sharing my feelings with another so that I know I am not alone. Yogi Berra said, "If you arrive at a fork in the road take it." I say, "But plow it first."

Writer's Doubt

Move over writer's block, you I can handle, what is kicking my butt today is writer's doubt, that little nagging sense in my brain that says: "are you sure you can do this?" I opened a much anticipated email the other day, only to read the words: "Although you were among many talented applicants, I am unable to fit you into the class. You are being placed on  the waiting list." To me this actually says, you suck, but if one of the brilliant students that got into the class drops it there will be a place for you. I was struck by a huge case of Writer's Doubt, with all the symptoms, tears, self pity, and a drive to McDonalds for an employment application. Yes I know that it is just one part of being a writer, learning to accept rejection. I'm just not very good at it (learning to accept rejection that is) although those days when writer's doubt manifests I believe that I can't write either. I sit here, tapping away at the keys, writing a post for this blog and wonder who exactly will read these words, besides my mother (hey mom are you out there?) What is the purpose of writing if no one reads your words? Is it like the tree in the woods, falling? Does it create a sound if no one is there? Therein lies the problem. My problem. Not only am I afflicted with writer's doubt, I have also forgotten that I believe in a Higher Power that loves me, that is always there, no matter what. I need to return to my basic need for words, because I need them as much as I need air, food and sunlight. I need to write because my soul craves it, because it allows me to become a better person, it enables me to purge the fear and the doubt, to place them on the page, so that when I enter the world what is left is love and wacky hair. So I guess the cure for writer's doubt is God, plain and simple, whatever that vision of God looks like. Today if I remember that I am never alone, that my Universe is here with me right now, reading over my shoulder, the tears and the fears and the doubt disappear. Is there anybody out there?  Yes.