Because a human being is endowed with empathy, he violates the natural order if he does not reach out to those who need care. Responding to this empathy, one is in harmony with the order of things, with dharma; otherwise, one is not.
~Dayananda Saraswati
Meeting a frog.
I’ve always enjoyed the sound of young children chatting–their short sentences, beautiful insights and excitement over the [seemingly] mundane. Perhaps this is why I am enamored with my son’s speech as it continues to develop and change. In fact, his personality is infectious and his thoughts are, simultaneously silly and deep.
During our recent visit to my former home, the Himalayan Institute (in the Poconos), my son did his “sportscasting” of everything he was experiencing in a new environment. Most of the guests and residents found this endearing, especially at such a family-friendly retreat center. But, there are always those who disagree.
After dinner, my son was explaining exactly how he locked us out of our guest room (at a place that does not give guests keys–I had no idea there were locks) as we were walking down the hallway. His talking involves repetition, short phrases and hand motions for emphasis. Just I was thinking, “It’s very sweet that he has no idea how to lie yet” an extremely angry guest stomped as she opened her room door, in her pajamas (at 7:30pm), and started toward us.
In too-close proximity for standard personal space etiquette, she proceeded to tell me, “You have to make him stop talking. It’s loud, it’s rude and I have severe health problems that require me to sleep.” I replied, “I’m sorry this is a problem. My son will be asleep by 8pm…and you won’t hear him until morning.” She continued, “No, I don’t think you understand. It is really important that you teach him not to speak. He needs to learn to shut up. You have to try harder as a parent. This is unacceptable.” My son was watching and listening to the conversation. I finally knelt down to his level, very calmly, and said, “Cole, this woman is feeling sick and wants us to be a little quieter in the halls. Can we talk in the lounge and stay quieter in the hallways?” Cole replied, “Yes, Mommy. I no talk. I quiet.” He started talking again after 30 seconds of silence…but he did go to sleep easily as I promised.
The same guest attended evening group meditation at 9:30pm; then proceeded to chat with other guests after.
♦ ♦ ♦
I was, at first, angry…and also saddened…by the above encounter. I shared the story with two older guests. Both of these people were actually more upset by the situation than I was and even, somewhat jokingly, told me I should tell said guest that she had traumatized my 2-year-old for life. But, my conclusion was different.
I feel that the woman had, at that point, many more battles to fight in her life then I did. I was taking joy in my parenting adventures, was able to calmly explain the issue to my son in a way he understood, and really had very little to worry about. She, on the other hand, was at a point in her life where the sound of a curious, happy child walking down a hallway way before quiet hours was a huge problem. I figured she needed a break, not an angry response from me.
I love this recent article in the NYTimes, Empathy is Actually a Choice. Its conclusion is basically the title, but it backs up the premise with research. We can choose empathy every single day. Or we can choose anger. Empathy can also be taught–and it is something I hope to be communicating to my young son. In fact, I believe him learning empathy toward others is probably the most important aspect of his education.
Empathy is a cornerstone of what I do as a yoga instructor/yoga therapist. This has to happen even on days when I simply “don’t feel like it” or I am miserable for some reason (yes, it happens). As I have aged, I have continued to practice empathy (because, practice makes perfect) so that I can master it, much like I would a yoga pose. This is not to say I am forcing the concept within myself…rather, I am choosing the view of empathy. This has lead to contentment (santosha) in my life and, on my best days, bliss.
Try empathy next time you encounter a difficult situation with someone around you.