There is a practice I do in the evenings, not every evening, but many, where I sit and invite the troubles of the world into my presence, with the hope that by being with the pain of it, a process of amelioration might begin. You could call it a prayer practice.
It’s not comfortable. It brings up fear to encounter the suffering of others. Sometimes, I invite the troubles of people I know who are facing a health issue or other painful circumstance, or I might invite the devastating troubles of geopolitical conflicts or disasters. I try to stay in a type of engaged neutrality, to sit with, not collapse into. I don’t consider it witnessing, which implies a distance. I bring it close. For me, this is not an intellectual exercise, it’s an embrace of suffering to experience it and somehow transform it. I bring it into my body, allowing the people and their emotions to meet me at the center of my chest, even when it feels like poison, a contagion that will harm me.
I see value in doing this, in bringing the sorrow of others into myself and being with, not turning away. I don’t pretend to know the mechanics of it, it makes no logical sense, but the logical parts of me are not what I am engaging in this practice. I am exploring the outer boundaries of empathy where I tap a faculty beyond the personal and the physical.
It differs, but it can be like this. I might start by settling and seeing where my mind is noisy and where it is quiet. I ask that I be open and allow others and the brutal facts of their lives to enter. If parts of me recoil, I wait. I extend care and concern to those I am with, and to the places in me where the burning wants to stick. Sitting, watching, feeling, being with, cause the scene to change, gain texture, become real. My receptivity puts us in relationship, not by effort or control, but by surrender. When I reach the spot where I fall through, my consciousness spreads across the space between, so that there is no between, only space. The field is big enough to hold it all, pain and fear and feeling and care, our embedded connection so obvious it becomes the governing principle. Our joint holding is somehow bearing this burden and sharing this sorrow together, metabolizing ugliness at the root. Release is possible, the hollow ache in my chest replaced with fullness.
Feeling, processing, and releasing the pain of others, I am sure, is cleansing the unknown sticking points in me. I am better after – humble, grounded, somber, realistic, hopeful. I have given care and felt the care returned. I am more filled with peace, which may be the opposite of pain.
Photo by Liana S on Unsplash