STEPS OF COMPASSION

STEPS OF COMPASSION

In 1954, our family was living in a low-income government housing project. In the fall of that year, I was in the freshman class of a very large high school. I was 4 feet, 11 inches tall, very shy and naive. There is one evening I remember very well, and I share it with you.

There was a dance to be held for all freshmen called, The Freshman Party. That evening, I dressed in my best Sunday church clothes. I did not have a suit, so I wore the only sport coat I had—one I had gotten eight years earlier for my First Communion. I walked to the dance, and it was here in the high school gym, the music played and dancing began.

I was standing by myself, just watching and listening to the music, when I noticed two girls standing across the gym from me, talking to each other. Finally I had enough courage to walk over to them. I asked the first girl, “Would you like to dance?” “No,” she said. I then asked the other girl, “Would you like to dance?” She too, said, “No.” I turned to walk away; there was this pretty girl standing close by, who said, “I will dance with him.” She grasped my hand, glaring at the two girls who wouldn’t dance with me, and we started to dance. Her name was Linda, and we stumbled along until the song was over. She was very gracious and patient. I was a geeky looking person, with a long hook nose. Of course I knew why the two other girls did not want to dance with me. But I don’t know what those two girls were thinking; surely I wasn’t going to ask them to marry me. What were they waiting for, and for whom? I wonder if today, they are on the side lines, still waiting. 

I will never forget Linda’s compassionate heart, and reaching out to someone. Taking those steps of compassion and dancing with me, has always been a lesson in my life. I danced with Linda two other times that evening, and after that, never danced with her, ever again. By the time our senior prom came and went, she was a cheerleader and very popular throughout her high school years. Linda was very attractive, but I will always remember her for her heart—that let her take, those steps of compassion.

Throughout my years, I have looked at those around me, like myself, in the shadows of those, that avoid your path. Why is it, if you're unattractive or obese, or because of color or race, you are left out? Why doesn't the heart, speak from within with compassion, and see the hurt, the crying for acceptance? Why can’t you, just say, “Hello. How are you? May I help you? Would you like to join us? Do you need anything? That’s a pretty dress. Your hair looks great. Your tie is sharp. Would you like to dance?”

Why is the heart so cold, so insensitive to others needs? Those graced with beauty and abundance, seem to be taken up in their own self. There is so much more sadness and brokenness in the heart than joy. Why can’t you just say, “I’m sorry. I was wrong. I hurt, because I hurt you. Please forgive me. I miss you. Would you like to dance?”

It is said, “The eyes are an extension of the heart.” Can’t you see pain? Can’t you see the emptiness in one's eyes? Can’t you reach out, and just say, “Let me hold you for awhile. I will stay with you. You are precious. You are pretty. I love you. Let’s walk together. I care about you. Would you like to dance?” 

The words we do not say, and the actions we do not take—unused opportunities on our path, pass us by, and are wasted. Why can’t you just say, “How was school today? Let me hug you. You are a good boy or girl. You make me happy. Would you like an extra dessert? Let’s play a game. You are very special. Would you like to dance?”

Has it occurred to anyone, that maybe some of us are inside out; that our attractiveness is inside, in the heart, and not outside, in our features; and some of those with attractive features on the outside, have a deceptive heart, hard like a stone? Isn’t love molded from the inside, and bonded slowly with many portions? Isn’t this, what makes love strong and lasting, that each portion nourishes the other? That one's inner self of compassion, is the key element of love? That the abundance, or lack of compassion, is the indicator that formulates love's foundation?

I am reminded of the play, “The Phantom of the Opera.” Christine pulls off the mask of the phantom, to reveal a scarred, and deformed face. It is in this compassionate moment, Christine passionately, kisses the phantom on the lips. In this touching scene, my eyes water with tears, for the depth of her gesture shows, what love, really is. This expression of the heart, is overwhelmed with a genuine purity of compassion, and the deformity of the phantom is invisible.

Why then are we so prejudiced—so quick to judge others, like the cover of a book, without ever seeing the first page? Like the story within a book, everything progresses to unfold its contents. So, when you speak to someone, speak from the heart; be honest; seek goodness in everyone; reach deep within yourself, and let the glow of your words, and actions, heal those who are wounded. For you yourself, may one day be of the wounded, seeking counsel for comfort. When someone comes to you, open your door. Let not today, or tomorrow or the next day, be wasted. Open your heart. Teach it to dance. The steps of compassion are within us all, waiting. Are we afraid to take the first step, or are we just afraid, to dance?

Robert J. Varrick

rjvarrick@gmail.com