Steps

This is a picture of footsteps. 

I think there is a poem of some type, involving footsteps and jesus picking the walker up so his prints don't appear on the beach...etc...

i'm NOT going into all that today; you know my Sunday thoughts.

But...these footprints...are those of a girl walking towards me, wearing only her socks...slip slopping through the wet. 

She looked...mentally ill.

I asked if she was OK, and she said nothing.

I really felt sorry for that girl...abandoned like that. 

Wandering lost.

I know her, of course.  I mean...I understand being that lost.

This photograph...might appear to have nothing to do with this blog; & maybe it doesn't.  BUT...I think they are related. 

At least...I hope they are.

It’s the strangest thing; I got a phone call over the weekend asking if I had sent some photos I took of the birthday/re-union. 

I actually only got the request a few days ago…in fact not just the day of the death of our bird…but almost the very same hour. 

I politely told the person we had suffered a loss, and I would do what I could to send along the very best photos I had in due course. 

& come the weekend…I am already receiving chasers. 

It’s not only strange, the way people seem to lack compassion, for the loss of an animal, the natural grief process, but it is also curious how people seem to think I have nothing else on my plate. 

As if writing is a hobby.  I have talked about this before. 

Some people…MOST people…care only for themselves. 

It’s downright frightening. 

In my case?  I’m lucky.  I guess…between seven and ten percent of my friend list stopped by to offer their condolences upon the death of my bird.  That is a pretty sweet percentage, in my opinion. 

Seven to ten percent of my friends on FB care that I lost an animal, and I was hurting.  That’s pretty impressive.  I think the same percentage read my blog; that’s an honour. 

So, can I extrapolate that figure to make an estimate that seven to ten percent of the broader human race has some measure of compassion?

Maybe so. 

I think maybe we can do even better. 

And it starts with me. 

I realise empathy is a dying art; I get that.

Compassion is a rare commodity, along with loyalty, truth, all that.

I’ve spoken about that.  It’s not so weird to experience complete ambivalence to suffering in our society…we are used to it.  But in indigenous cultures…they take that kind of shit seriously.  Like, for example, the Koori culture, elders have told me that if one of the tribe behaved like that…demanded…I don’t know…that a rock painting be done during a grieving process…then they would be presumed to be mad, possessed by demons, and speared to death. 

That kind of lack of compassion actually frightened them.  It frightens me too.  I think we can do better.  I think that I can do better. 

Feel more.  Care more for my fellow man. 

Maybe it’s about…breaking patterns. 

Of selfishness. 

I would like you to try something for me. 

If you are a friend of mine…& I have missed something of yours…a special event, a celebration of some significance, a source of sadness or grief…if I have missed that…somehow…

then I want you to let me know that you are upset by it. 

Mad.  Sad.  Disappointed.  Many of us…I’m not saying you, specifically…are conditioned to feel we are unworthy of consideration.  So…when we have been slighted, or passed over by someone we thought was our friend…we say nothing about it.

Do nothing. 

If someone hurt a friend of yours…would you not speak up?

If ‘yes’…then why would you not stand up for yourself?

You see…I think we are conditioned to think that speaking out when you have been hurt by someone is a sign of weakness. 

Me?  I think it’s a sign of strength. 

I actually think it is a sign of love. 

If someone cares enough about you to feel hurt by something you have said or done, and feels you are worthy of hearing about it…

That is a very loving thing. 

I think we have gotten some things all wrong. 

Arse about.

If you care about me enough to feel hurt that I missed something of yours, or lacked compassion, or empathy…for you…

& you let me know about it…that’s not a selfish thing.

That’s a loving thing. 

It’s a helpful and generous thing.

In fact…if I have ever done anything to hurt you…I want you to let me know about it.

Because to care enough about who I am and what I do…to care enough about me to feel pain when I have hurt you…& then let me know how much it hurt you…

Is an act of love. 

& if the world needs anything right now…

It is new ways to love.