Yesterday a friend spoke almost proudly about the fact that they’re not adhering to our recommended “shelter in place.” How are they going to enforce it? they asked, almost mockingly, as they went about their day as though they were exempt from any social responsibility for others’ well-being and safety. I wanted to respond with fierce criticism and vitriole even though I knew if I did so our long friendship would end. It took me several hours to calm down.
I have always believed that everyone does the best they can. Even if that “best” is far from what we see as their potential, it’s the best they can see. But during this crisis I’m not so sure if that’s true. Are we really like little children who know not what we do? Is unconsciousness of compassion an excuse for not being compassionate? Is ignorance of truth and goodness really an excuse for bad behavior? Are we truly all doing the best we can? I puzzle over this especially just now, as those questions ripple out beyond the personal into the political and corporate world. But there is no answer, because their story is not my story. I can only live my story, and do what I can do, and do the best I can, which I hope always will be better than it was the last time I did it. Our human experience of time and space is not linear, it’s growth and expansion. Ignorance is stunted wisdom. Greed is stunted generosity. Selfishness is stunted compassion. Rage and outrage is stunted love.
How can we continue to grow and expand and become lighter and enlightened, so that we know we are doing the best we can? By nurturing the goodness in ourselves, and encouraging others’ goodness. To accept our fellow-creatures as they are, to feel compassion when we can. Don’t take anything personally, and don’t make assumptions that we’re right and they’re wrong. The only solution to doing the best we can as individuals is to return to our own orbit. We can only be the neutral center of our universe, no one else’s. We can only shine our warmth, compassion, and love from our hearts, totally neutrally, without tarnishing those rays with blame, guilt, or judgment.
Here’s how neutrality works: It’s snowing today and I could be gloomy that it’s so cold and wet and dreary. Or I could take a lovely walk in the feather-light spring snow and enjoy a hot cup of tea by the glow of the fire in the hearth. The snow itself is impersonal and neutral—how I respond to it is of my own creation. I could be gloomy about the virus and its massive impact on us all, or I could read, write, draw, listen to music, be still, and be glad we’re cozy and safe while the blizzard of news and anxiety rages around. I could be as calm, helpful, and good as I know how, today.