Boundless Compassion

When our needs are not met in childhood,
we grow separate from ourselves.
It’s a gaping wound that no one can ever fill.

No one but ourselves.
The problem is that the need that’s not met
is often the most crucial one.

Presence. Attunement. Being seen.
It’s the basis of connection and love.
It’s the root of enoughness and abundance.

If we didn’t get it as children,
we spend our adulthood reaching for it blindly.
We seek distraction and satisfaction outside of ourselves.

Maybe it’s addiction. Maybe productivity.
Maybe success and power.
Yet the wound remains open.

Nothing external can restore
the presence we lack within.
Yet no one ever showed us how.

To be present with someone is a gift
because it can teach them
how to be with themselves.

It’s easy to be present
when having sex
or engaging in your favorite work or hobby.

But can you be present with yourself when angry?
Sad, afraid? Heartbroken?
And the hardest one of all: grieving.

To be present with someone in grief
may be the greatest gift anyone can give.
It is the door into heaven.

But only those of us who have gone through hell
and touched its heart with our hearts can give it.
This gift is so rare, our culture has forgotten about it.

So we walk through the world with our gaping wounds
wide open and obvious.
Yet we don’t even know they are there.

Sometimes we find someone
who gives us a glimpse of presence,
a taste of what healing and wholeness can be like.

Sometimes that’s real.
Sometimes just a projection of our longing.
An illusion that fades to black.

Either way, we cling to it,
we chase it.
We want more of it.

But often it’s just a spoonful of water
for one that’s dying of thirst.
It doesn’t quench it, only reminds us how painfully thirsty we are.

And we look at that source of nourishment
with disappointment and contempt
for reminding us of our endless craving.

Some of us will feel betrayed and withdraw.
Some of us will feel like an unspeakable wrong was inflicted upon us
and we’ll seek revenge.

These are the ones to watch out for.
Because revenge for a taste of wholeness
that reminds us of our thirst is one of the deepest sources of evil.

Some of us will feel righteous anger
and accuse, guilt trip and blame.
Some will take it a step further, justifying all kinds of violence.

Some of us will take it to whole other level
and direct it at a child,
who will grow up to hand it down again.

Too often, those who offer us
a taste of wholeness
become the target of our deepest resentment.

Too often, we mistake a glimpse of presence
for something others possess
and we lack.

Too often, we want to make the other
responsible for our own
inner state.

This evil is innocent and tragic
but the violence that ensues
is not.

It’s a projection of an ancient wound by people who are so deprived
they’ve lost touch with themselves.
They’ve lost touch with reality.

We need to meet the wound before it asks another child to carry it.
We know that meeting blind violence
with more violence only spreads it further.

The only cure that sticks is love
that doesn’t ask who deserves it.
But we should not tolerate the retaliation.

So how do we move from here?
How can we help those so lost that they’re allergic to the cure
and meet the greatest gift with violence?

Even the blindest boundless love can reach a limit.
No amount can ever be enough
when receiving itself is not available.