The universe does not judge us; it only provides consequences and lessons and opportunities to balance and learn through the law of cause and effect. Compassion is the recognition that we are each doing the best we can within the limits of our current beliefs and capacities.”
Gazing over the small fire, I could see the flames reflected in the sage’s eyes. Her face now illuminated by the firelight, appeared ageless, except for a few lines around the eyes – from smiling, I supposed. She smiled often, so that even when she seemed deeply serious, I could detect an underlying sense of humor and perspective.
After we spent some time in silence, gazing into the burning embers, she invited me outside to learn the Law of Compassion. We rose together and stepped through the doorway.
I looked around in wonder. Had the terrain changed again, or was it a trick of the moonlight? Before us lay a level area with enough trees to offer shelter from a misting rain that settled the day’s dust and carried a pleasant, earth odor of bark and leaves mixed with soil and grasses.
“Everything feels so alive,” I remarked.
“And so it is,” she responded as she caressed the rough bark of a nearby tree. In the light of a waxing moon, the rolling hills became curves on the Earth’s body. “Extend your mind far beyond these hills,” she continued. “Reach across the oceans, the fjords, the volcanoes, the reefs, the towering mountains above and beneath the sea, all teeming with life, all of it – the flesh and bones, the blood and spirit of the Earth, our mother.”
She held up her finger to show me a tiny flea, which leaped up and disappeared. “If you were a flea,” she said, “standing on the back of an elephant, you would see only a forest of great hairs growing around you, with no idea what you actually stood upon. But, if you leaped high into the air and looked back, you’d see that you actually lived on the skin of a living creature. This is what happened to the astronauts who first soared into space. They left Earth as scientists and pilots and came back as mystics, because they saw the vision of a single, glorious, sacred, blue-green, living, breathing planet. This vision brings humility, and with it, a sense of awe and compassion that carries into the affairs of ordinary life.
“Just as you can learn balance from an egret and presence from a cat, you can learn the Law of Compassion from the Earth on whose skin we tread, whose trees we cut and burn, whose living wealth we exploit, going about our business without ever thinking of asking permission or giving thanks.”
“And so I ask you this,” she continued, squatting down, taking some rich soil in her hands, and letting it run through her fingers, “if the Earth can forgive you for your mistakes, can you not forgive yourself, and offer others the same compassion?”
I lay back, and looked up at the starry sky. “I don’t think I’m all that good at compassion.”
“You don’t give much of it to yourself, do you?” she asked gently.
“No, I don’t suppose I do.”
“Then that’s where to begin; the more loving-kindness you give to yourself, the more you can give to others.” She rose and walked back inside the hut. I followed. Gazing at me over the crackling fire, with a light in her eyes, the sage revealed the heart of this law. “The time has come, Traveler, for you to see yourself and others in a new way, free of the judgments and expectations that come between you and the world. The time has come to understand that all of us – friends and adversaries alike – are doing the best we know how within the limits of our beliefs and capacities.
“The poet Rumi once wrote, ‘Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I’ll meet you there. When the soul lies down in that grass, the world is too full to talk about.’ Rumi could write these words because he understood that judgments are a human invention – that God is not here to judge us, but to provide us the means to learn from our errors so that we can grow and evolve.” The sage turned to me and asked, “If you can accept that God doesn’t judge you, why should you judge others?”
“I try not to judge others,” I said, “but what about violent or cruel people?”
“The Law of Compassion is not arbitrary or conditional,” she said. “We know that deeply troubled and destructive people do exist in this world, and that disturbed people tend to disturb others. Compassion doesn’t mean letting such people walk over you or continue their destructive behaviors; some individuals need to be separated from society. But one can have compassion for evil without succumbing to it. In battle, you can feel compassionate toward your adversaries even when fighting to the death.”
“But why feel compassion for cruel or despicable people? Why not just hate what is hateful?”
“That is an important question, and deserves a clear answer – an answer you must find for yourself. But consider this: Hate and compassion are different kinds of energy; which do you want to fill your world?”
“I can’t argue with your goodwill,” I responded, “but I still find it very difficult to feel kindly toward bigots or those who prey on children.”
“I never said that compassion was easy!” she said. “But easy or not, the law directs you to act out of love and understanding rather than out of hatred or ignorance. To do so requires a leap to a larger perspective – to the realization that you live in a universe as just as it is mysterious. This depth of understanding flows from intuitive insight into the inherent intelligence of the universe. Whether you find such understanding through observation, reason, or religious faith, it reveals, finally, that in the natural world you have no friends, you have no enemies. You only have teachers.”
“It seems like one has to be a saint to practice this law.”
Smiling, she answered, “The Law of Compassion presents a loving demand to transcend out limited perspectives. This can feel overwhelming at times. So remember that compassion starts with yourself. Be gentle and patient. We each have many thoughts and feelings, both positive and negative, that arise in the mind and heart. You don’t have to be a saint, but instead of believing or resisting the negative thoughts, let compassion wash them away in a wave of love and understanding.”
“It still sounds pretty saintly.”
That I feed the hungry, forgive an insult, and love my enemy – these are great virtues. But what if I should discover that the poorest of the beggars and most impudent of offenders are all within me, and that I stand in need of the alms of my own kindness; that I myself am the enemy who must be loved – what then? ~ C. G. Jung
The sage stood and paced for a few moments before turning to face me. “Can you remember a time in your life when you were in the midst of a heated argument – when you felt resentful, envious, or betrayed?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Go back to one of those times,” she said, “and feel the pain and anger.”
“Okay, I feel it.”
“Now imagine, in the midst of this heated argument, that the person you’re arguing with suddenly clutches his or her heart, utters a cry, and falls dead at your feet.”
“My God,” I said, picturing what she had asked.
“Where is your anger now? Where is your envy and jealousy, your resentment and pain?”
“Those feelings are gone,” I answered. “But – but what if I were glad they were dead? What if I couldn’t forgive them?”
“Then you can forgive yourself for not forgiving them. And in that forgiveness you’ll find the compassion that heals the pain of being a human in this world. To call forth such forgiveness when you need it,” she added, “remember to imagine your friend, lover, or adversary lying dead at your feet as you will one day lie at the feet of Spirit. Then you will see through different eyes, because death is the great equalizer. We are all going to depart this world and leave those we love. We all feel hope and despair; we all share dreams and loss. We are all joined without knowing why, in the mystery of life, doing the best we can.”
“Maybe that’s what Plato was saying when he wrote, ‘Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.’”
“Yes,” said the sage. “Now you understand.” With that, she walked over to a bed of leaves and lay down. I watched her for a few moments, in the fading glow of the fire, as the last embers flickered and died.
Excerpt from The Laws of Spirit