I watch my two-year-old nephew feel sad for somebody on one of his programs or whatever and I wonder how they learn it so well so early in life. It could be a combination of genetics and parenting, with the environment they are in. The children in my life show me what compassion is.
A friend who knows me like the back of her hand once told me that I had an uncanny ability verging on talent to see the tragic in every situation. To clarify, she wasn’t accusing me of being especially pessimistic, negative or a complainer, she was simply making an astute observation clear to her and myself – possessors of context spanning the last twenty years or more – about having an overly developed sense of compassion which constantly acts up. I am often reminded of that comment when I hear a sudden vulnerable stutter of uncertainty or self doubt in a close person’s voice or notice that extremely old looking couple on the street supporting each other, you know them, the old leading the old, and feel that familiar flare up.
I used to think that I was abnormal for experiencing that side of life in full volume. I know…
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