Compassion
In many ways, I have been a wonderful spouse to my husband. I have given him some of my best stuff: love, caring, consideration, food, fun, laughter, passion. Lots of passion--both the kind he likes and the kind he loathes. But COMpassion? Not. Ever.
Never. Isn't that hard to believe? I don't mean that I didn't give it to him before we separated, but have miraculously learned how to do it since. I have actually withheld my compassion for this sensitive, soft-hearted man throughout our entire relationship. I still do. Maybe withheld is too strong a word. Because, frankly, I don't really have it for anyone--except, perhaps, my children. And even then, not all that often.
Quite literally, the word compassion means to "suffer with". I'm really good at suffering, but I only want my own. Everyone else's truly gets under my skin. It BUGS. It rubs me raw. It's exhausting. The sameness of it. The "looping". Especially when it's someone you know so well. ENOUGH already--I want to shout.
Where is my compassion? Why don't I understand that by truly behaving compassionately--and more important--actually feeling compassion, will allow me to enter a new realm of my marriage. A critically important one.
Yesterday, I touched the periphery of it for just a moment.
The Philadelphia Film Festival is this week, and Greg found out there were going to be a series of lectures given by some local and not-so-local movie producers. They were going to be hearing the "pitches" of some Philadelphians--those who have sent ideas in months ago for review. Greg has been making movies in his head for years. Has all the equipment, all the technical know-how, but is held back by the very thing that holds every one of us back from our passions: fear.
For just a moment, as he was describing the lectures, I felt his inner turmoil about attending the event. Would he feel horrible that he wasn't one of the people pitching? Would the ideas be so good that he felt he could never touch them? Would it be devastating rather that inspiring? For just a moment, I actually felt what he felt, and suffered with him. Rather than the usual irritation, I actually felt his pain. It was truly a first. Then I asked: Do you think you'd be able to enjoy going and checking it out? He hesitated--then decided he would go.
He came home truly inspired.
After SIXTEEN years, was that so hard?
Never. Isn't that hard to believe? I don't mean that I didn't give it to him before we separated, but have miraculously learned how to do it since. I have actually withheld my compassion for this sensitive, soft-hearted man throughout our entire relationship. I still do. Maybe withheld is too strong a word. Because, frankly, I don't really have it for anyone--except, perhaps, my children. And even then, not all that often.
Quite literally, the word compassion means to "suffer with". I'm really good at suffering, but I only want my own. Everyone else's truly gets under my skin. It BUGS. It rubs me raw. It's exhausting. The sameness of it. The "looping". Especially when it's someone you know so well. ENOUGH already--I want to shout.
Where is my compassion? Why don't I understand that by truly behaving compassionately--and more important--actually feeling compassion, will allow me to enter a new realm of my marriage. A critically important one.
Yesterday, I touched the periphery of it for just a moment.
The Philadelphia Film Festival is this week, and Greg found out there were going to be a series of lectures given by some local and not-so-local movie producers. They were going to be hearing the "pitches" of some Philadelphians--those who have sent ideas in months ago for review. Greg has been making movies in his head for years. Has all the equipment, all the technical know-how, but is held back by the very thing that holds every one of us back from our passions: fear.
For just a moment, as he was describing the lectures, I felt his inner turmoil about attending the event. Would he feel horrible that he wasn't one of the people pitching? Would the ideas be so good that he felt he could never touch them? Would it be devastating rather that inspiring? For just a moment, I actually felt what he felt, and suffered with him. Rather than the usual irritation, I actually felt his pain. It was truly a first. Then I asked: Do you think you'd be able to enjoy going and checking it out? He hesitated--then decided he would go.
He came home truly inspired.
After SIXTEEN years, was that so hard?
posted by Ask Me Anything at Saturday, April 05, 2008
11 Comments:
Hey, that's my friend you're talking about!
GREAT post. Love the self-awareness. Love that you mentioned he'd been writing scripts IN HIS HEAD (only) for years. Love that you know why you don't want to "suffer with," because it BUGS, and it DOES! Totally!
Love that you have turned a corner. That's big. Huge. GIANT.
more.
I love that the compassion came to you when you were ready to experience it. Beautiful.
Hi I found my way here from Suzi's blog. I only meant to pop in for a bit of a nose around but liked the surroundings and stayed a while. You are a terrfic story teller. A very easy style that makes you feel you popped by for a coffee and decided to have two or thee cups rather than leave.
Great blog.
Hi Mob,
Thank you! Look forward to catching up with you--already know we're kindred spirits from your moniker!
just wanted to say hi, terry. hope all's well. i would have thought you were pretty compassionate...though, now that i know the true etymology, maybe it's not the right word. maybe you're like me (and my father) in that you'd rather see someone get out of that funk and move forward, lighten up, snap out of it. you did it, though...nice!
Compassion is a tough one, but I think it gets easier with practice. My stumbling block with it was that I couldn't have boundaries around it. Instead of 'suffering with' someone, I would just go ahead and suffer FOR them and try to fix it all up.
I'm glad you recognized it for what it was when Greg needed you to. I'm willing to bet that was huge for him.
both Amanda and Kario are dead on!
Hi Ter,
It's your sister, Andi.
The fact is we weren't raised w/ compassion. We were too busy giving jabs or telling eachother snap out of it. Don't complain, change it!! Good advice but not very compassionate.
You are a great storyteller. And you are so f***ing self-aware. I love that, that you can tell these stories and see yourself in them so clearly and honestly.
It IS a hard one. My grandmother saw the Dalai Lama a few weeks ago, and she came back and said she realized she'd never been very compassionate and she wanted to work on it. It blew me away. Because she is tough and smart and generous and wise, but maybe hasn't been the most compassionate. Never too late to take a hard look at things.
You rock. You inspire me to look at things.
Are you coming to Portland or what?
remember
what ever you put on the internet can be read by anyone. ANYONE can see what your are posting.
nothing here is bad yet
Terry, you indeed are a wonderful story teller but for me, you have a way of shining light into dark corners, particularly with regard to relationships. Compassion is something I seem to have for my kids only. Other people, not so much. My husband? Never. I have no idea why this is so hard for me. A very thought provoking post. Thanks!
Post a Comment
<< Home