Step 4 didn't seem like as much of a step to me as the first three. I think a lot of the work for this step had already been subsumed by the previous step. I've already valued empathy as an important trait.
There were some valuable points for consideration with this step. It didn't focus so much on empathy for all as it did on empathy for those it is hardest to empathise with - people who have done things we would not do, or those in situations we do not understand. This is, of course, one of the hardest situations in which to have empathy, and one I've always had to work on.
It is sometimes hard for me to step back from an abuser and recognize that their abuse comes from a place of pain. It is hard to see the adulterer as a lonely, insecure person.
There were two main courses of action with this step, and I can't say I did all that hot with either of them in the beginning. The first action was to indulge in tradgedy, basically. To watch a movie (or play or something) that would pull the viewer into the pain of the characters and to submit completely to that pain.
I hate doing this. I have always had excellent control of my emotions (though apparently not in the most healthy way - in more of a beat them into submission way), and movies don't typically make me cry because I focus on the not-real aspects. And I avoid unhappy movies anyway.
I started with the book To Kill a Mockingbird (my take on this for the book page is about 1/2 written right now). That book certainly has some truly sad parts in it, but it wasn't as heartbreaking as one might think. I found it much more though provoking than I did emotional.
So I moved on to my old stand-by, Steel Magnolias. I LOVE that movie (and the play). LOVE. But I fell asleep this time before I got to the sad part. Erg.
Eventually, I did accomplish this part of step 4, though it wasn't until May, and it was during a rather unexpected movie: The Hunger Games. There will be another post forthcoming about my issues with that series and why I haven't yet read the books, but MacGyver took me to see the movie last week and not only did the death of one of the characters really get to me; I was also completely emotionally sucked in to the sacrifice of one sister for the other - not to mention the pain of the parents in the movie. So, that part of Step 4 was accomplished.
Of course, I'm sort of skimming over the point of the tradgedy indulgence, which was to truely feel for another from their own point of view, and to accept the pain of others rather than denying it or demanding that everyone remain positive even when things are bad. This was certainly an interesting point, as I have been a relentlessly - sometimes even heartlessly - positive person in the past. I have learned throught this step to separate strength, compassion, and a positive attitude from one another. One can show strength and compassion while at the same time recognizing pain and negetive situations. Remaining demandingly positive in the face of others' pain often an unkind thing to do. Sometimes, the better thing to do is to join them in their pain and help them to not feel alone.
Interestingly, a story was told in church during April that fit well with this theme: A little boy was very late coming home from school one day, and his mother was worried sick. When he finally came through the door, she demanded to know where he had been. "Timmy's bike broke on the way home and he was really upset, so I stayed with him to help him," her son told her.
"But you don't know how to fix a bike."
"I stayed to help him cry," the little boy said.
That is the kind of empathy to be gained from tradgedy. That kind, and a refraining from judgement as characterized in the books by some of the Greek tradgedies.
The second course of action was to add some more steps onto the daily meditation. I sucked at this. I'm still getting the hang of the meditation thing. I usually meditate when I run, but I often don't complete an entire meditation cycle during a run. MacGyver and I have also been rotating weeks for Sunday morning Buddhist meditation before church.
I will continue working on this meditation throughout the following steps and perhaps have more of an update later. For now, I will simply say that it has been interesting. You are supposed to meditate on three people: one you like, one you dislike, and one to whom you feel neutral. My biggest problem was finding someone I feel truely neutral toward. As soon as I start to really think about the person, I think of their positive qualities. As for the person I dislike, there are few to choose from and the one I've gone with is someone very close to me who I've had a very complicated relationship with for many years. It makes for a very interesting meditation.
I've also found that for meditating on the person I like, I almost always end up feeling guilty for not being a good enough friend to that person - no matter who it is - at which point I have to go back and re-do the compassion for self stuff. Ha. It's a process, haha.
Showing posts with label Empathy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Empathy. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Step 3: Compassion for Yourself
The "mission" for March was "Compassion for Yourself." It was an interesting journey. I realized a lot; I questioned a lot; and, ultimately, I remain questioning a few things.
The goal, so to speak, of my Compassion endeavor and the book, Twelve Steps to a Compassionate Life, is to live your life by the Golden Rule as wholely as possible - to do unto others as you would have them do unto you and to not do to others what you would not like done to you. But I had never really thought about the fact that the basis of that rule is how you treat yourself.
I tend to judge myself pretty harshly. My biggest struggle with the Compassion project has been to try to refrain from judging others. Yet, somehow, I never really looked at those two things as connected. Probably because the majority of the time, I don't see holding myself to a strict standard as a bad thing.
And in some ways, it's not. But it is a really interesting thought. I expect a lot from myself, and that is my motivation for accomplishing as much as I do. Generally, if someone doesn't have the same education as I do, work out the way I do, eat the way I do, I don't judge them for that. People are different. Ok, so I judge a little on the eating thing. A little. I'm working on it ;-). But if I fail to do something I meant to do; if I fall behind on my cases; if I go a week without running, I can be pretty hard on myself.
This isn't coming out clearly. I feel like I've already contradicted myself. Let me try to simplify my problem here: I don't generally come down, in my mind, on others for failing to do things I would come down on myself for failing to do in any area where I recognize that I have unusually high standards for myself. BUT, I do tend to judge people when they do things I would not do, or violate what I consider to be low standards.
For instance my unabashed disapproval of aldulterers. For as long as I can remember having any real opinions on relationships, since I was a teenager at least, I have had a very deep seated disdain for people who committ adultery. I've run on about it here on the blog a few times. You can click on Adultery or Cheating over in my cloud at the right to read some of my vitriole on it. I just always saw adultery as a base and obvious demonstration of extreme ego-centrism as well as the worst kind of betrayal - one committed only for the gratification of the betrayer. I also saw it as a cowerdly way to avoid one's own inner demons.
Judgy, right?
Obviously. And, in all honesty, I still feel that way. But I also own up to the fact that I have done things in my life that some adulterers would consider far worse. I don't know what off hand, but people are different, and what one person considers a mortal sin, so to speak, others might see as a minor character flaw. Perhaps someone I might judge for adultery may think I am the worst kind of person because I am adamantly pro-choice?
I also recognize that while I disapprove of adultery and hold my beliefs about it, that doesn't mean my take on it is correct in all cases. No one wakes up in the morning intending to make "bad" decisions. Even people who do horrible, aweful things are coming from a place where they feel like what they are doing is right. Does it make the things they're doing ok? No, not always. I still think adultery is wrong even if the person who did it doesn't think they were wrong. But that person did what they felt was right for their life at the time.
It hasn't taken me much to stop instinctually judging in most cases. My immediate reactions to people and situations really have changed A LOT in the few months I have been following this path. But there remain a few areas in which I struggle: Abusers of animals and people, and people who are themselves lacking compassion.
I think it's pretty easy to identify why it's hard to refrain from judging abusers. It horrifies and sickens me to see anyone inflicting suffering on another. In the case of human on human abuse, I'm getting better and remembering that the abuser is usually acting out of some very deep and horrifying pain of their own. That doesn't mean the abuse is ok. It's not. It needs to be stopped immediately. But I feel that both the victim and the abuser deserve healing. I'm not saying punishment is out of the question, but I do think healing is a more effective long term fix. And something all people deserve.
I'm not totally there on animal abusers. I'm not sure why. It's harder to identify a pain there, for me. It sickens me, and really makes me jump in the punishment direction. I'm working on it. And donating money to the ASPCA.
Then there are people lacking in Compassion. It is the wierdest side effect to my Compassion project: The more I become able to refrain from judging, to feel empathy and compassion and give people the benefit of the doubt, the shorter my patience becomes for those who can't.
I am having the greatest struggle with a current client. She came to me seeking a divorce. He husband has recently begun suffering from a very extreme mental disorder. She told me her story, and my heart immediately went out to her husband. His suffering is obvious and very, very sad. Living with him, though, has been very hard for her (I keep reminding myself). She doesn't want to put up with it. She wants out, and she wants to know "what she can get from him." She feels it is her due (not an uncommon issue in my office).
My problem with this: She seems very entitled. She seems not to care one tiny little bit about the obvious pain and suffering of her husband. They haven't been married very long. She seems to have believed that marrying a Marine meant she would get to stop working and spend all her time riding horses. That seems to be her biggest problem with the divorce. She seems to be a heartless, conceited, self indulgent bitch.
See how well my not judging people is coming? HA!
I promise, this is a very special case. I have MOUNTAINS of clients right now, and this is the only one I can't seem to find a decent scrap of empathy for. I know that she must have had a hard time living with him. I've been close to mental illness in my life and I've been in horrible relationships. I know that my view of her actions and opinions and marriage is my outside view tempered by my own feelings. I remind myself every time I speak to her (which is a LOT because she also seems to think that as her attorney, I'm at her beck and call to do all sorts of tasks that have nothing to do with the case, ahem...).
It's wierd. Someone says something mean to me; I'm able to stop and think about why they said it, where they're coming from, that maybe they're having a bad day. But this client, whose only "sin" is her seeming failure to care about anyone other than herself, continues to be the trickling hole in my non-judging dam.
This is definitely something I will need to explore further in my meditations on myself and on Compassion. I'm sure it is some sort of mirroring or projection issue.
Well, this post didn't really go where I expected it to. I thought this would be the only post on Step 3, but since I barely hit on a fraction of the Step 3 topics, it looks like there will be at least 2 posts on Step 3.
The goal, so to speak, of my Compassion endeavor and the book, Twelve Steps to a Compassionate Life, is to live your life by the Golden Rule as wholely as possible - to do unto others as you would have them do unto you and to not do to others what you would not like done to you. But I had never really thought about the fact that the basis of that rule is how you treat yourself.
I tend to judge myself pretty harshly. My biggest struggle with the Compassion project has been to try to refrain from judging others. Yet, somehow, I never really looked at those two things as connected. Probably because the majority of the time, I don't see holding myself to a strict standard as a bad thing.
And in some ways, it's not. But it is a really interesting thought. I expect a lot from myself, and that is my motivation for accomplishing as much as I do. Generally, if someone doesn't have the same education as I do, work out the way I do, eat the way I do, I don't judge them for that. People are different. Ok, so I judge a little on the eating thing. A little. I'm working on it ;-). But if I fail to do something I meant to do; if I fall behind on my cases; if I go a week without running, I can be pretty hard on myself.
This isn't coming out clearly. I feel like I've already contradicted myself. Let me try to simplify my problem here: I don't generally come down, in my mind, on others for failing to do things I would come down on myself for failing to do in any area where I recognize that I have unusually high standards for myself. BUT, I do tend to judge people when they do things I would not do, or violate what I consider to be low standards.
For instance my unabashed disapproval of aldulterers. For as long as I can remember having any real opinions on relationships, since I was a teenager at least, I have had a very deep seated disdain for people who committ adultery. I've run on about it here on the blog a few times. You can click on Adultery or Cheating over in my cloud at the right to read some of my vitriole on it. I just always saw adultery as a base and obvious demonstration of extreme ego-centrism as well as the worst kind of betrayal - one committed only for the gratification of the betrayer. I also saw it as a cowerdly way to avoid one's own inner demons.
Judgy, right?
Obviously. And, in all honesty, I still feel that way. But I also own up to the fact that I have done things in my life that some adulterers would consider far worse. I don't know what off hand, but people are different, and what one person considers a mortal sin, so to speak, others might see as a minor character flaw. Perhaps someone I might judge for adultery may think I am the worst kind of person because I am adamantly pro-choice?
I also recognize that while I disapprove of adultery and hold my beliefs about it, that doesn't mean my take on it is correct in all cases. No one wakes up in the morning intending to make "bad" decisions. Even people who do horrible, aweful things are coming from a place where they feel like what they are doing is right. Does it make the things they're doing ok? No, not always. I still think adultery is wrong even if the person who did it doesn't think they were wrong. But that person did what they felt was right for their life at the time.
It hasn't taken me much to stop instinctually judging in most cases. My immediate reactions to people and situations really have changed A LOT in the few months I have been following this path. But there remain a few areas in which I struggle: Abusers of animals and people, and people who are themselves lacking compassion.
I think it's pretty easy to identify why it's hard to refrain from judging abusers. It horrifies and sickens me to see anyone inflicting suffering on another. In the case of human on human abuse, I'm getting better and remembering that the abuser is usually acting out of some very deep and horrifying pain of their own. That doesn't mean the abuse is ok. It's not. It needs to be stopped immediately. But I feel that both the victim and the abuser deserve healing. I'm not saying punishment is out of the question, but I do think healing is a more effective long term fix. And something all people deserve.
I'm not totally there on animal abusers. I'm not sure why. It's harder to identify a pain there, for me. It sickens me, and really makes me jump in the punishment direction. I'm working on it. And donating money to the ASPCA.
Then there are people lacking in Compassion. It is the wierdest side effect to my Compassion project: The more I become able to refrain from judging, to feel empathy and compassion and give people the benefit of the doubt, the shorter my patience becomes for those who can't.
I am having the greatest struggle with a current client. She came to me seeking a divorce. He husband has recently begun suffering from a very extreme mental disorder. She told me her story, and my heart immediately went out to her husband. His suffering is obvious and very, very sad. Living with him, though, has been very hard for her (I keep reminding myself). She doesn't want to put up with it. She wants out, and she wants to know "what she can get from him." She feels it is her due (not an uncommon issue in my office).
My problem with this: She seems very entitled. She seems not to care one tiny little bit about the obvious pain and suffering of her husband. They haven't been married very long. She seems to have believed that marrying a Marine meant she would get to stop working and spend all her time riding horses. That seems to be her biggest problem with the divorce. She seems to be a heartless, conceited, self indulgent bitch.
See how well my not judging people is coming? HA!
I promise, this is a very special case. I have MOUNTAINS of clients right now, and this is the only one I can't seem to find a decent scrap of empathy for. I know that she must have had a hard time living with him. I've been close to mental illness in my life and I've been in horrible relationships. I know that my view of her actions and opinions and marriage is my outside view tempered by my own feelings. I remind myself every time I speak to her (which is a LOT because she also seems to think that as her attorney, I'm at her beck and call to do all sorts of tasks that have nothing to do with the case, ahem...).
It's wierd. Someone says something mean to me; I'm able to stop and think about why they said it, where they're coming from, that maybe they're having a bad day. But this client, whose only "sin" is her seeming failure to care about anyone other than herself, continues to be the trickling hole in my non-judging dam.
This is definitely something I will need to explore further in my meditations on myself and on Compassion. I'm sure it is some sort of mirroring or projection issue.
Well, this post didn't really go where I expected it to. I thought this would be the only post on Step 3, but since I barely hit on a fraction of the Step 3 topics, it looks like there will be at least 2 posts on Step 3.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Why Compassion?: It Fits
I have written on Empathy before. I feel very strongly that the ability to put one's self in another's shoes, so to speak, is crucial to compassionate human relationships. Compassionate Life emphasizes and refines that point.
Compassion is key - for personal enlightenment, for global justice, for right relationships. It is something we have evolved for. Compassionate Life discusses at length in its beginning the evolutionary journey that has molded us to be compassionate beings. The author discusses the war, so to speak that takes place between our different "brains."
There is the "old" or "reptilian brain," our basest core, the brainstem, devoted strictly to survival - obtaining food, fleeing from threats, and propogating the species. It in from this brain that the "fight or flight" respose is programmed. Mindsight discusses this same concept. It is the "old brain" that takes over when we "loose our minds." When we find ourselves controlled by anger or fear and reacting without - or apparently without - thought.
The old brain is at war with the "new brain," our thinking, reasoning, neocortex. The neocortex gives us rationality, language, creativity, and control. It is our "higher functioning." This is also the area that gets "hijacked" when we are overcome with rage, lust, fear, etc.
The most disturbing point Karen Armstrong makes on this topic in Compassionate Life is about the consequences when we direct the abilities of the new brain to the service of the old brain. When we apply our advanced intellect to pursuits driven by anger, fear, or lust. It is from this "co-opting" of the new brain by the old that the most horrifying attrocities known to mankind have happened.
And, on a smaller scale, human beings are often known to use the behaviours of the old brain as an excuse. I don't know how many times I have heard the claim made that men are "genetically hard wired" against monogamy. There are dozens of arguements that run along similar lines used to justify or excuse all sorts of unsavory behaviour. And it's all freaking BS. With the neocortex comes the ablility to override the old brain. Just because I was genetically predisposed to start breeding at 16 years old in no way meant I had to or would.
The story of the two brains reminds me of an old parable (which just happened to be related during the story for all ages at our church this Sunday):
Compassion is key - for personal enlightenment, for global justice, for right relationships. It is something we have evolved for. Compassionate Life discusses at length in its beginning the evolutionary journey that has molded us to be compassionate beings. The author discusses the war, so to speak that takes place between our different "brains."
There is the "old" or "reptilian brain," our basest core, the brainstem, devoted strictly to survival - obtaining food, fleeing from threats, and propogating the species. It in from this brain that the "fight or flight" respose is programmed. Mindsight discusses this same concept. It is the "old brain" that takes over when we "loose our minds." When we find ourselves controlled by anger or fear and reacting without - or apparently without - thought.
The old brain is at war with the "new brain," our thinking, reasoning, neocortex. The neocortex gives us rationality, language, creativity, and control. It is our "higher functioning." This is also the area that gets "hijacked" when we are overcome with rage, lust, fear, etc.
The most disturbing point Karen Armstrong makes on this topic in Compassionate Life is about the consequences when we direct the abilities of the new brain to the service of the old brain. When we apply our advanced intellect to pursuits driven by anger, fear, or lust. It is from this "co-opting" of the new brain by the old that the most horrifying attrocities known to mankind have happened.
And, on a smaller scale, human beings are often known to use the behaviours of the old brain as an excuse. I don't know how many times I have heard the claim made that men are "genetically hard wired" against monogamy. There are dozens of arguements that run along similar lines used to justify or excuse all sorts of unsavory behaviour. And it's all freaking BS. With the neocortex comes the ablility to override the old brain. Just because I was genetically predisposed to start breeding at 16 years old in no way meant I had to or would.
The story of the two brains reminds me of an old parable (which just happened to be related during the story for all ages at our church this Sunday):
An old Cherokee chief was teaching his grandson about life...
"A fight is going on inside me," he said to the boy.
"It is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves.
"One is evil - he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, self-doubt, and ego.
"The other is good - he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith.
"This same fight is going on inside you - and inside every other person, too."
The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather,
"Which wolf will win?"
The old chief simply replied,
"The one you feed."
"A fight is going on inside me," he said to the boy.
"It is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves.
"One is evil - he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, self-doubt, and ego.
"The other is good - he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith.
"This same fight is going on inside you - and inside every other person, too."
The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather,
"Which wolf will win?"
The old chief simply replied,
"The one you feed."
And THIS is where learning true compassion is key. Nurturing that wolf, so to speak. Armstrong points out in Compassionate Life that compassion is like any other innate human ability in it's potential for growth. Just as one can enhance the abilities of their body through excersize, their intelligence through study, and even their language through poetry, so too can practice and effort be used to expand and hone human capacity for compassion.
So we have these two warring brains - these two opposing motivational centers. Are we then always doomed to internal conflict and struggle? Must we spend our whole lives beating back the cries of the old brain with the new? And if the new brain is focused on rationality and intelligence, how is it that compassion, and with it love, is the answer?
The answer to that, as posited by Armstrong, lies in a third, more recently discovered "brain" - residing in the limbic system. Please refer to the book (or any recent neuropsychology text) for more detail, but the simplified answer, what I took away from it, is this:
Motherhood
The origins of compassion, altruism, and love lie within the evolution of motherhood in warm blooded creatures. The practice of rearing young, of sticking around to ensure their survival, carried with it evolutionary benefits. The genes of animals who were taken care of in infancy were passed on more effectively than those that weren't. Care for the young became an ingrained trait. At the same time, among some mammals, particularly those on the lineage of Homo sapiens, began to develop bigger brains. Bigger brains also equated to better survival. Bigger brains had more successful genes. As brains grew, so did skulls, and consequently infants were born earlier and earlier in thier development. Today, human infants are born so early that their first 3 months of life is usually referred to as "the fourth trimester" since they remain virtually fetal at that stage.
Infants being born more and more helpless combined with the predisposition to care for young gave birth, essentially, to maternal love. It has been posited by many scientists that the love between a mother and her offspring is the original form of love from which all others have developped.
There is nothing more basely selfless than the mother of an infant who is willing to put every one of her own needs to the side in order to attend to probably the most demanding creature she has ever encountered. Ignoring - and sometimes not even feeling - her own pangs of hunger and exhaustion, mothers are become wholly devoted to sustaining a life other than their own. This is the origin of selflessness. This is the origin of compassion. This is the key to the struggle between the wolves of the old and new brains.
Of course, here I am talking about archetypes. There are mothers out there who are far from selfless (trust me, I know this all too well). And just because motherhood is the biological origin of love does not mean that it is the only true love or that women are in some way more capable of love then men. That is not AT ALL what I'm saying. Remember, we're still talking about brain systems here, and men have limibic systems, too. It just happens that the example of motherhood rings very very true to me.
When I gave birth, something in me changed. Something I still don't quite understand. It's a change I'm sure millions of women undergo in their lifetimes. One day, I will do a whole post about it, because this synopsis will not do it justice. When I gave birth, I was already a mother. I had been caring for Punky for years, she was (and is) my daughter. But she was never a helpless infant in my arms. I met her when she was 18 months old, but even then was not too close to her since MacGvyer and I were not all that serious. I did not become a mother to her until she was 4. She was far from helpless. While I underwent much transformation in that first year of caring for her (indeed, in every year of being a wife and mother - I am ever evolving), it did not compare to the shift in me after I gave birth.
I have always been a caring and sympathetic person. I am the first to assume that when a person acts out, it is because they are in a negative place and may need help (some exceptions to this - like cruelty to animals - clearly apply). But after I had Flintstone I began to feel pain for others in an unbelievably acute way. I found myself unable to listen to the news or even remember some cases from my past without a sharp sense of mourning. To that degree, I had become obsessive, which is not a good change. But, as we will see farther into this journey on the 12 steps, appropriately developped compassion can even help with that.
Most of the change, however, was good. I felt awakened to a sort of spiritual truth about humanity. And that truth was this (or something like it): Putting your own needs aside for the benefit of others is a doorway to inner peace.
Of course, there a caveats. Of course, there's more to it. That will come in time. But the lesson is there, and it comes from the limbic system.
And it tells us that the struggle inside us is not a struggle between two equally powerful wolves. There is a third, intrinsically wiser, mother wolf ready to aid the compassionate wolf, the new brain. We just have to learn to feed them.
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