Compassion in the Time of Pandemic

    I am aware of just how much human life on our planet is being disrupted in these times, and literary tropes come to mind, unbidden. Some more hopeful and helpful, some less so.

     T.S. Eliot ended his 1925 poem, The Hollow Men, with these words, “This is the way the world ends / This is the way the world ends / This is the way the world ends / Not with a bang, but a whimper.” Apparently, Eliot was upset with the demand for German reparations in the Treaty of Versailles, and what these could lead to in Europe. Eliot’s concerns were firsthand in the sense that he worked directly with German debts and reparations as a clerk in Lloyds Bank in London. Perhaps more to the point, Eliot was one of the artists known as the “Lost Generation,” those who were in their 20s and 30s as World War I unfolded. Their sense of horrific disillusionment was overwhelming. Some lost courage and hope, others lost a sense of purpose, becoming aimless or reckless, unable to believe in ideals.

Reflections on Generosity

         The Indo-European root of the word generous, gene, means “to give birth” and gives rise to words like germinate, generate, genius, and kin. Generosity is the act that connects in profound ways through the process of giving and receiving. 

     Buddhism stresses the practice of giving and the virtue of generosity. This is dana, which is one of the “ten perfections.” The simple rice bowl becomes the monk’s begging bowl, a symbol of a vow of poverty.

A Winter Meditation

     The day is short and cold, and the sun is falling slowly behind the hills. There is just enough snow to be respectable without really having to go out and shovel. The windowpane, half-frosted, frames the winter landscape. The barren, stark branches of trees pattern the sunlight as it passes through them. A fire in the fireplace would be a good idea, but sitting here waiting and watching seems to be enough.

Another New Year

     We are at the edge of two realities as this year is ending, and the next year beckons. There is a paradox about the two edges of time, old year and New Year. On the one hand, we have been here before, for each year of our life. On the other hand, we have never, ever been here before. The future lies before us mysterious, uncharted, dangerous, exhilarating, wild, and pregnant with possibility. Perhaps we should be terrified.