A slow uncovering of the wounds that bind us, is an apt description of the path of compassion. Understanding and transforming our pain is a common motivator for the path. Many of us came to the path because we were in pain. There is nothing like a broken heart to introduce us to meditation. But once that heart has mended, or once we get tired of that broken song, what is it that prompts us to continue on the path?
It is said that the path of compassion is a continuous journey that demands cognizance on every step. If we are interested in developing true compassion then daily maintenance is our commitment. We are constantly learning, uncovering, and transforming our inner lives so that we can be of greater service to our world. And, this is an ongoing process. We may never get “there” – wherever we think “there” is. Doctor King saw the mountain. And in one of his more heartbreaking moments said, I might not make it with you. The point of his journey was not personal accomplishment, but his great contribution to humankind. He was part of a stream of understanding that flowed from the source of human kindness and when he left, that stream continued. Many will say that the stream of kindness has been dammed by the sediment of self-interest. But, the path of true compassion endeavors to see the larger picture. There has always been wounds and there has always been kindness. It’s important to see that the pain and suffering in the world is caused by its wounds, not by an inherent evil. The “Lion’s Roar” is the fearless proclamation that all life is workable.
So how can we help anyone, when we ourselves are wounded? We talk about “opening the heart”. But what does that mean? Usually, this statement evokes feelings of empathy, communication, and kindness. But doesn’t opening the heart also release the pain that we have been protecting and the suffering we are protecting ourselves against? When we began the path our wounds were the source of antagonism and aggression. In an attempt to protect ourselves from a future projection of past violence we struck out against actual or imagined danger. However, it may be that these wounds are also the source of empathy, communication, and kindness. The “Lion’s Roar” may be that the wounds we guard in embarrassed secrecy may be our gateway to compassion. When we have worked the path of self-discovery, we get what it is to be human. And because of this, we understand what humans need. Opening the heart is simply relaxing the protective tension with which we gird ourselves. As this cocoon is protecting us from real, imagined or remembered pain, we must respect it. Opening the heart is not about aggression at all. Opening the heart is acceptance and release.
Coeur is the word in French and Old English for heart. Courage is to have heart. Courage is the bravery to open carefully and slowly with great respect. Our meditation posture is an expression of this bravery. In the Shambhala tradition we call this wariorship. But it is not warriorship based on war. It is not courage based on arrogance. Nor is it a denial of anything at all. It is simple uncovering and acceptance of who we are and the willingness to face that when we are able. And when it all gets too much? We retreat. But, retreat in this case is not defeat. It is a conscious pause to allow creativity and intelligence to enter. With this mindful pause, we can respond to the difficulties of life rather than react to them. In this way the warrior stands tall with the bravery to feel their pain and their joy without believing that pain is a punishment or happiness a reward. The warrior is willing to face life as it happens. This is non-theism. We don’t demonize our suffering nor don’t exalt our joy. There is goodness to everything under the sun. Including that which hides in the shadows. For when we accept our pain, sadness and suffering, we might find an openness for creative expression.
Pema Chodron speaks of suffering as having created a wound in our heart. All of us have those wounds. Pema suggests that we cover the wound to protect it, as we would a physical wound. However, with a physical wound we remove the bandaid for it to heal under the sun. But emotional wounds often remain covered, and so healing is compromised. We become embarrassed of the wounds, somehow believing we are the only ones. Because they don’t heal in the shadows, the wound becomes sensitive to touch. We are constantly bumping into the wound, and flincing through life trying to protect ourselves from the pain. This creates more suffering. Yet, the saddest part of this is how we are denying the very thing that makes us unique. No one notices perfect trees in the forest. We notice the trees that are gnarled and curled from lightning, bent by wind or darkened by fire. These trees have character. And our pain gives us character. Lightning struck trees don’t feel embarrassed about themselves. Nor do three legged dogs. Nor do blues musicians, or poets as they express their pain. Is there a form of life on earth that judges itself as much as humans do? There is a song by The Big Moon that goes “trouble doesn’t last forever. The trouble is that memories do.” 
Rather than run from our wounds, we can carefully, slowly, allow them expression. Rather than react with hatred, shame and discouragement, we might allow our suffering to connect us to all who are suffering. This is not easy and it takes daily, manual practice, but acceptance of the wound will give us a presence that cannot be faked. In the Shambhala Tradition we call this Authentic Presence. While everyone has suffered, no one else has our own wounds. They have made us perfectly who we are. Thus our wounds connect us to everyone, but also makes us very specifically ourselves.
But we would do well to encourage our opening slowly with great care. In the AA tradition they say, “may you have a long, slow recovery.” We are the basis of the path to compassion. May we discover ourselves slowly with great love.
Here is an aspiration:
May I never outrun my pain, so that I remain humble.
May I not hide from my fear, so I may remain aware.
May I see what I have suffered as a sign of strength, rather than weakness.
May I stand here in the midst of myself and remain open to all I can.
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todays images are by EMMA RUTH RUNDLE
https://www.emmaruthrundle.com/visual-art
and YUKO TATSUSHIMA
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