compassion

"There is always someone who loves you. There is always someone who cares."

I scrolled through my Instagram feed to catch a photo of a friend’s first tattoo. It was an abstract design that paid homage to her wedding venue, a distinctive historic site in her home state. The tattoo seemed sweet at first, but then I read the photo caption. My friend had gotten inked to honor the child she lost in miscarriage.

Dirty Harry may be a highly entertaining character, but he is not a role model I would want my son to emulate. Young boys and men exposed to these sorts of stereotypes must be somewhat shaken to discover how little their inner life resembles this representation of heroism. In order to mimic the external impassiveness of these so-called heroes, how much of their true selves must they deny?

You see, every time we watch The Lion King — every freakin’ time Mufasa dies — her small fists ball up, her nose and brows furrow, and tears well up in her eyes. But instead of worrying about herself, she asks “Mommy, what happen? Dis sad?” She pauses and waits for my response, but when I let silence linger a moment too long, she asks again, “Dis sad, Mommy? Dis sad?”

These are two concepts that I think we are all a little confused about. Even writing on this topic for four years, it’s taken me time to master explaining the difference between emotional eating and bingeing. We often use those two terms as if they’re interchangeable. But they’re absolutely not the same thing!

Remember this one time in savasana that the teacher had us visualize all the negative energy in our lives being squeezed out the soles of our feet like a bad vibes garlic press. Imagine my boss’ words as a brown ooze squeezing out of my feet. Imagery is gross but deeply comforting.

I don't believe that you're incapable of treating me and my friends with compassion. Maybe you just need a little help.

Monks. Breakdancing. Beastie Boys. What more do you need to know?