Have you ever noticed that it is easier to feel compassion toward a child and his or her mistakes than it is to feel compassion for an adult and his or her mistakes? Why is that?
Have you ever found it easier to support someone who is crying than someone who is yelling? Why might tears engender caring in greater measure than screams?
Imagine a cellular membrane that can take any form to suit its needs. Imagine that when dropped into a toxic solution, this cell instantly adopts armor and daggers around its exterior, yet when dropped into a nourishing solution softens like an absorbent sponge. Interestingly, armor and daggers tend to bind one’s accumulating waste inside, while sponges invite flow and coalescence.
What if the yelling of an adult emanates mostly from the remnant hurts of a child deep inside, wounds bound beneath layers of armor and daggers? Is this design superior to the sponge that allows substance to flow through it? Is compassion a weakness, or a mechanism that enables its host to absorb and release substances of many kinds with ease?
We are moving from an age of armor and daggers into the age of the sponge. Soon the new membrane of choice—even under great threat—will be compassion. Compassion beacons companions. Companions coalesce their power in kindness. Kind power disarms threats.
It has always been this way, and so it will be…