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hearing the cries of the world... by Annamaria Hemingway,
from her book, "Practicing Conscious Living and Dying" (www.o-books.net)
The word compassion is derived from a Sanskrit word that means the ability to form an unconditional relationship with one’s
self. In the Buddhist teachings, the deity known as Avalokiteshvara embodies
compassion, and is known as “The Lord who regards the cries of the world.”
Human
suffering stems from the perception of an ego-based consciousness, and this perception arises from ignorance. Compassion requires
the ability to discriminate, to see the truth of how things really are and let go of our illusions. The resulting wisdom gained
in this process enables one to see that true compassion is not demonstrated through pity for our fellow human beings, but
through recognizing the fact that we are all connected and seeking happiness.
The
Vietnamese monk Thich Nhat Hanh emphasizes “transformational practice” as the way to access compassion for ourselves
and others. In A Dialogue of Reconciliation,
he teaches that “the first step to peacemaking and compassionate action is watering the seeds of peace and uprooting
the seeds of war in your own heart.”
Compassion
requires a genuine desire to release people from their suffering, with no hidden motives or selfish desires that result from
an attachment to the outcome of our actions. Acts of loving kindness to others provide a means of demonstrating compassion
and becoming aware of: the children who have no shoes, the homeless who live on the fringe of society, those fighting terminal
illness, the plight of people in countries ravished by war, and the destruction of the planet.
Through
understanding the power of good intention, it is possible see how thoughts, actions and words -- both positive and negative
-- travel and touch others. Thinking ill of another can harm them, and ultimately results in harm to ourselves.
But
positive intentions benefit those around us, and lead to the reaping of personal rewards in which former values are relinquished.
Instead of accumulating material possessions for personal gain; one starts to reach out and give to others, and becomes liberated
from self-absorbed ways of moving through the world.
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beam
of light... Carlos Santana, musician, in CNN interview after winning Latin Grammy Award, 2004
I've been repeating for a long time that I am
a beam of light that comes from the mind of God. That allows
me, the more I say it, to grasp that I'm more than Mexican, or a human being. I am more than American or all the labels
that we put on each other on this planet.
Since I can definitely say that, like you, I am
a beam of light that comes from the mind of God, then I don't have to squirm or interrupt people when they give me a compliment.
I can say, "Thank you so much. And I'm very happy that my presence can bring joy into your life."
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the call of love... By Linda Stewart, experiencer, from a post
on the newsgroup NDE@yahoogroups.com I feel it's important to go to the Monday
night meetings with the family therapist because this is very grounding for (my husband) Ed - actually for all of us - because
bi-polar is very tricky to deal with sometimes.
Because of the late appointment we always
eat at a little, nearby restaurant afterwards. Tonight, about 10 minutes into my meal I had another episode of tachycardia.
My heart was monitored at 180 beats a minute. I felt faint and nauseous. Although it went back into a regular rhythm after
about 15 minutes (thus avoiding the hospital this time), I was unable to eat and was shaking and in pain from the heart pounding
so hard. Ed went to fetch the car since I would not have been able to walk that 3/4 block but he was reluctant to leave me
alone because I have been known to pass out with these episodes.
As life would have it, a homeless woman named
Margaret, for whom I have made a practice of giving a little bit of money weekly to help with the shelter, walked by the restaurant
just as Ed was trying to decide what to
do. I acted upon the moment and motioned for Margaret to come in. She was reluctant
because the restaurant owners call the police on her if she bothers patrons. She stuck her head in the door and I told her
I needed her help. She was confused but I asked her if she would be kind enough to sit with me while Ed got the car for me
and explained my situation to her. I also explained to the restaurant owner that Margaret was helping me since I didn't feel
well.
As we were waiting, Margaret thanked me for
being someone she could count on every week. I looked at her and said, "Margaret, do you know what YOU are doing for ME right
now? You're being a friend when I needed one."
Margaret is usually pretty brazen, practiced
from the aggressiveness she has had to develop to constantly approach strangers for money, her survival. But when I said that
she clenched her jaw, closed her eyes and lowered her
head, trying not to tear up. Her eyes were rimmed with red when she
looked up and she said, "You can count on me." She insisted on holding my arm and walked me to the car when Ed drove up.
I realized that I probably gave more to Margaret
in that moment than the money and hand-me-downs that I share with her. Margaret, I think, doesn't often get the chance to
be the giver. This time, asking something of her was the gift. Her gratitude was palpable.
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