compassion practice

On how an ancient Zen story helps guide this ageing fool through everyday trauma.

Legend has it that Japanese monk Ryōkan Taigu (1758-1831) lived most of his hermit life at the foot of a mountain. One evening, while he was out collecting firewood, a thief snuck into the hut . . . finding nothing worth stealing. Just then Ryōkan returned.

“You have come a long way to visit me,” he told the intruder, “and you should not leave empty-handed. Please take my clothes as a gift.” Bewildered, the thief grabbed them and ran off. As night fell, Ryōkan sat naked on his bench watching the moon. “Poor fellow,” he mused, “I wish I could have given him this beautiful moon.”

Event #1: En route to the library I blacked out and ended up on the sidewalk 220 feet away. I must have told the people who came to my assistance that I was ok, yet my lights went out again and I emerged sitting outside a store two city blocks away. My bicycle escaped unscathed and my body had contusions and abrasions. Friends drove me to the emergency department where I spent next four days and nights behind curtain #A24 . . . with multiple devices monitoring heart function, and nurses, lab techs, and internal medicine docs coming and going. Eventually neither heart monitors, x-rays, echocardiogram nor MRI imaging revealed clues as to cause. I was told to go home “but be sure to come back immediately if . . .”

Event #2: A full week later a thief entered my home as I was asleep. Not a peep from two dogs sleeping alongside: they later asserted that they weren’t in fact guard dogs, but world-renowned as scent-hunters! Many things were taken, including laptop, cash, keys, and credit cards. “Things” are slowly being replaced: locks changed, new computer, all data restored, credit card in the mail, temporary driver’s license, passwords changed, new bike lock, etc. But fear and nakedness remain, especially at night. [1] Yesterday I visited my old therapist to pour my heart out — and weep.

The string of charges made to my credit card were made at a pharmacy and a convenience store adjacent to a gathering of homeless shelters not far from my home.

My heart of compassion is gradually opening to beings in distress (such as patients coming to the ER for urgent care or those compelled for whatever reason to steal from people’s homes). Suffering comes in many disguises. And yet, all throughout the last two weeks I’ve felt a deep sense of calm deep within (aka equanimity). So far I’ve resisted the lure of fear and self-pity. Instead I pray for those in distress: “May all beings be well. May all beings be happy. May all beings be free from suffering”.[2]

Each day when cycling past ‘unhoused’ people living in tents, lighting up behind shrubs, or pushing rickety shopping carts trough the neighbourhood, my heart shuns judgment and, instead, opens to their misfortune. Walking down the street or riding the bus I acknowledge others with a smile or kind word. Gradually, my balance is being restored as my own suffering morphs into kindness.

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[1] Only recently have researchers begun to investigate the effect of the victimization experience on physical and psychological wellbeing. See for instance: Tan, S. Y., & Haining, R. (2016). Crime victimization and the implications for individual health and wellbeing: A Sheffield case study. Social Science & Medicine, 167, 128-139. Full text. [2] For more on this Buddhist practice, click here.