if these are my last words IV

If these are my last words . . .
and I'm talking to my sons, and I've only got one breath, I'd say,
Be Compassionate Now. Always.

Then I'd hope they'd find this blog for the explanation.

At this point on their lives' journey (6 and 10), I must admit that the boys are much better than I am at the "Now" part. They live in the "Now", the spontaneous present. Laughing, giggling, sulking, crying, yelling--all here, all the time, all Now, Now, Now.

For me, it's taken years and a daily surrender to the Great Spirit to get me to appreciate the joy of focusing as much as possible on this very moment, and in this moment, locking in on the fun, the beauty, the wonder of it all.


Even looking down the school hall where I work, I see the sullen parade of teens and simultaneously witness the magic, the epic power, the blazing minds, the struggle of good vs. evil. T. S. Eliot described it in one of his poems, saying that he "did not know that death had undone so many." What I see is in the passing pathos is the complete resilience of the passionate beings that exist in all of us. School, society, culture, peer pressure--you name it; that influence is here--and yet, these kids vibrate with life and many of them, when exposed to other vibrant sources of life, explode off into their ethereal, their heavenly self. They write amazing things in creative work. They perform brilliantly on a stage. They paint a canvas from their imagination. They reveal again and again, the astonishing effects of a lightning lock on the present moment of creation.

The compassionate part, that's a different ball of yarn. I have no way of proving that compassion is inherent to humanity, that it exists like a yarn string to be assembled skillfully into a comforting scarf or ordered and rolled into a ball for later use.

I only how it feels to be compassionate, to practice compassion in a way that is as self-less as possible, and then to feel that compassion requited, returned, amplified. His Holiness the Dhali Lhama calls in "wise selfishness" because practicing compassion creates such a positive feeling that it might be considered selfish when it makes you feel so good.

For those who have ever shown an ounce of compassion to a creature or a fellow person in dire need of that compassion, you know that you are in immediate danger of taking on lots pain. Though it's nice to theorize that you can live in the "Now" and see joy etc. at that moment, the Now is filled with anxiety, fear, chaos and confusion. The peace and joy one had developed in oneself can only reside like a reserve tank of oxygen in an alpine climber's pack, waiting to be applied to your fellow climber's oxygen mask, so that they too and you together can weather the crisis. The oxygen also represents our own ego. If the purpose of life, as a Buddhist may suggest, is to extinguish the ego, then that oxygen might run out in the process.

Take the literal example of a firefighter attempting to rescue someone in a burning building. If the cataclysm is great enough, both the hero and victim will be taken into God's hands. At that point, it's miracle time: survivors often speak about answered prayers or conversations with God at times of ultimate crisis.

We have no fully credible accounts for those in conversation with God at the point of death, who die. If you accept the accounts of Jesus as the Holy Spirit, then perhaps, long ago, you accepted my notion that the most important thing to know is to Be Compassionate. Now. Always.

So that's what I'm telling my sons, whether they believe in God or Jesus or any Higher Power. The feeling of giving and receiving compassion itself is so worth it, so much deeper than any other pleasure you can experience, and, most amazing of all, available free of monetary cost, at any time. For instance, right now.

Here's the Two Listeners quote of the day: "Already Love is drawing others to you. Take all who come as sent by Me, and give them a royal welcome. It will surprise you all that I have planned for you."

That royal welcome is your compassionate heart, my sons. Please put it to good use.