Exploring Our Limits of Caring

BY Sara Sha        January 27, 2017

During this past election season, I found myself creating a boundary. This boundary determined which human beings I would allow into my circle of caring. If people associated with the other political party even slightly, I mentally shunned them in a very dark way. As someone who tries hard to be this unattached, free spirit full of love, acceptance, and rainbows, this startled me and it forced me to examine limits of caring further.

For some of us, the circle of caring ends at our own skin. We empathize with others, but we don’t reach out because we have our own long list of important needs, real or imagined, to tend to first. Entanglement in someone else’s life means less time to spend on our myriad needs. If I take time to really listen to your story, I’ll have less time to meditate or pray or wrestle with my demons. Or paint a landscape or play trombone or read Joseph Campbell or write my daily poem.

Some of us can love our families with all of our hearts and souls and that’s where it ends. Our family is witty and talented and smart and we almost pity those who aren’t part of it. These relationships sometimes define us with bumper stickers expressing pride in our honor student, or wearing clothing or jewelry stating “Hockey Mom” or “Football Dad.” Compassion for others in the community isn’t even on our radar. Our home is our kingdom and if we had a drawbridge, we would pull it up.

Some peoples’ circle of caring enfolds around those of their same religion. We may not necessarily condemn those of a different faith, but we don’t look for opportunities to get to know them better. Some of us do condemn those of another religion and treat our own religion as a fortress. We lash out at others, then retreat into the safety of our church-shaped stockade. Those inside the fortress love and support each other, but that is where the compassion ends.

Some of us need to limit our circle of caring to race. Maybe because someone’s skin is a different color, their customs, beliefs, and history are different than our own and that is threatening. Being around people whose color and features resemble our own feels safe, and it is the only circle of caring we can embrace.

For some of us, our circle of caring ends at our country’s border.  We read or hear about other people’s suffering in other countries, but it is irrelevant. We look at suffering in our own country and want those needs taken care of first. We might pray a heartfelt prayer for those living with bombs in their neighborhoods, but we don’t want any of our money going there and we don’t want the might of our country going to help them. We proudly wave our star-spangled flags and take care of our own.

Some of us have no circle of caring at all. The human race includes everyone with hearts, eyes, skin, and blood. Everyone in the global village deserves food, clean water, and the love and safety of a home. Our money flows from our pockets to the local farmers market, to Habitat for Humanity, to Doctors Without Borders. We love knowing the few dollars from our pockets might be teaching a mother a skill or giving a hungry teenager the sustenance he needs to give him hope for his future. Because what if everyone worldwide had the gift of hope and compassion for and from a stranger?

At times of our lives, and even during times in a day, we can pass through all of these boundaries of caring. When we’re sick with a cold, we are all that matters in that afternoon. When our spouse loses a job, our family is all that matters for a while. When there is conflict within our religious institution, it requires the congregation to pull within for a spell. When our country is under attack, we might need to rein ourselves in to ensure our safety until things stabilize.

A problem with circles is they can act as boundaries. Boundaries limit our ability to learn about and from others. And they prevent us from learning the size of our own hearts, and the ability to expand our love and compassion beyond our own recognition.

So I am digging around in my own heart, trying to find a morsel of care and compassion for my politically opposed cousin.  I am trying to send love and acceptance to that neighbor who still has that damn sign up. If I can accomplish this, who knows what other barriers I can break through.

 

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Sara Sha

Sara is a writer, poet, and blogger with a keen interest in topics involving spirituality and authentic living. She’s a big fan of religious and spiritual rituals and she has never met a prayer bead she hasn’t liked. She lives in northern Minnesota where she frets that climate change is cutting her beloved winters short. She is a proprietress of woowooware.com, a blog encouraging spiritual exploration for growth, pursuit of joy, and care for others. 

 

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