by David D. Horowitz.
“How’s it going today, David?”
“Fine.”
“Just ‘fine’? Normally, you say ‘fabulous’ or ‘marvelous.’ Is anything wrong?”
“I’m fine—but not with fanatics bombing dozens of families picnicking in a park on Easter. My weekend was fine, but I’m not feeling totally fabulous.”
“You’re referring to the bombings in Pakistan,” observed my co-worker. “I totally understand. I’m grieving, too. But we’ll do our best, regardless.”
“Sure thing.”
So began a recent Monday at the law firm where I work. I can accept I need a job to pay for food and shelter. I can accept work sometimes entails stress and boredom. I can accept that sometimes jealousy gloats over a friend’s despair; boredom craves coffee, pastry, whiskey, and steak to distract from purposelessness; lassitude resists exercise and empathy; and hypocrisy calls out another’s indecision and then takes two hours to decide whether to top a slice of pie with a scoop of vanilla or peach ice cream. And I’ve got my own flaws, to be sure: everything from obsessive knuckle-cracking to occasional tantrums. Yet, “love” that only accepts others if they are perfect is life-hatred, not compassion. Embrace the imperfect!
Yet, I cannot passively accept gloating jealousy, smirking gossip, numb condescension—or theocratic assault on religious liberty and diversity. I cannot casually accept a bully laughing as he rifles through a terrified teen’s pockets for coins or a bully exploding bombs on Easter in a Lahore park to demonstrate the glory of “God.”
Compassion simultaneously tells me to accept and change the world. And consideration—reason influenced by love—helps me discover a middle path to get to a better place, step by careful step. Patience warns me improvements emerge slowly, haltingly. Successful leaps are rare. Sanctimony is often counterproductive. I also understand rain might help a garden grow; a romantic break-up can ultimately deepen self-esteem and help direct one to a more suitable partner; doubt about faith can deepen tolerance for diverse viewpoints; and indecision can stop dogma from planting a bomb. Yes, I want the world—and on its own terms. But as the world has given me love, reason, and vitality—my terms, if you will—I will use those to prune and nurture my garden of goals. And when self-empowerment and empathetic concern complement each other I feel fabulous again!