Compassion - Pity for the Suffering of Others.

Compassion, an emotion, I've felt it!

I've seen those pictures of starving children. The homeless. Concentration camps. Old people in all types of life threatening situations. 

I've seen animals being attacked, killed and eaten by other animals. 

My neighbours cat. I cried, watching the coyote carrying it off, it helplessly looking back at me, like it was trying to say, "Save me! Please save me!  That whole night all I could think of was how it was served to the coyote's pups.

I've even seen video's of animal abuse for our own consumption by the big meat companies, but I still eat meat.

I saw the original video when Al Queda broadcasted it's first real beheading.

I felt sorry for that guy. Especially when he squealed like a pig, as the knife started sawing. I could not watch. Is that compassion or was I just being sick? 

Almost unbelievable. Anyway...

I hate to admit it but, I have caused suffering myself on animals.  Not intentional of course. I just hate mouse traps.

I've seen a burn victim, the vets returning home, I've watched someone whither and fade away from AIDS, a process that took two years and a lot of suffering, not only physically but stigmatically. I've experienced loved ones with dementia and others dying of cancer. I know there are people who can't see, who can't hear, can't walk, and can't move without feeling pain. 

St. Pauls Hospital, in Vancouver, is known for it's compassion.  We have tons of compassion clubs dealing out pot to relieve suffering.  Compassion societies coming out of our ying yangs, but it's not enough.  Suffering still goes on.

I've hit a rabbit and squashed him under my wheels, a mountain lion when in California. I've seen poor dead deer, tied to cars. Bears wandering where they shouldn't be, on a lethal walk. A mouse, in the wrong place at the wrong time. That cute baby seal being thrown around by a pod of Orcas. 

I've listened to people's stories, their lost loves.  Had empathy for them, since I myself have gone through that revolving door more than once.

Parents loosing their only child, an accident. Cities loosing entire populations.

Addicts, dog shelters, the old man who lived next door in an iron lung. Babies who die before they can walk. There's no one I haven't got compassion for.

Bugs have no choice. Animals don't, birds don't, fish don't. No living thing had a say in what it wants to be in life.

No human has had a choice, on the type of person he wanted to be, either.  I've often asked myself, "What would I rather have been?"

All I can say is; I'm glad to be "me", born in Canada, at this time in history. Food on the table. Every opportunity easily at my fingertips. More than at any other time in history and basically, I'm still healthy at 63, others would disagree.

There is a lot of people who want to feel sorry for me. I have a tendency to complain a lot. And I do! Not that I have a reason. I just like to complain. About the occasional gout, or carpal tunnel syndrome in my wrist, from typing. That sort of thing.

Why do they feel sorry for me, you ask? They just do. Could be my looks.  

Maybe there are a few things I would have changed. Cary Grant comes to mind.  Yes, my looks!

What a sorry sight, I am!  Just sometimes not all the time, especially in the mornings...

A little compassion, please!

Dog Brindle

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