The Election, Social Media, and Compassion – by Tracy McShan

Understanding Compassion in a Polarized World

It’s presidential election season here in the United States, and it’s difficult to escape the finger-pointing, angry ads and social media posts about the candidates. It’s no secret that the country has become so polarized that friends, family members, and acquaintances of different political persuasions have difficulty relating to one another and, in many cases, have come to regard each other as enemies. We have become willing and eager even to think the worst of each other. I’m trying very hard to resist using political orientation as a qualifier for my friendship and, especially, my civility.

It’s not easy, though. I find myself “unfollowing” friends on social media who post political information I disagree with. Of course, the more I do this, whether in real life or virtually, the smaller and less diverse my world becomes. I don’t want that. I’m trying hard to stay in community while setting boundaries that keep me sane. Recently, a couple of friends who post political messages to Facebook that sometimes enrage me responded kindly and thoughtfully to an appeal I shared looking to find a home for two senior dogs whose owner had died. It reminded me that we are all fallible humans capable of hatred, division, and also compassion.

The Personal Impact of Political Divisiveness

Several years ago, in 2019, I was in a car wreck that totaled my car and resulted in numerous injuries, including a severe concussion. It was a rainy day, and I was driving home from a lunch meeting when a driver in a large truck entering the highway ran a red light and crashed into me. All eight airbags in my car were deployed, and I was knocked unconscious. I regained consciousness when I heard someone banging on my window, yelling that my car looked to be on fire and that he was going to break my window to get me out. The stranger was able to free me from my car. Confused from the concussion, I wandered into the busy intersection. The man who pulled me from my vehicle escorted me safely to the side of the road, made sure that paramedics and police were on their way, asked if I was ok, and then asked if he could pray for me. Still shaken and confused, I nodded yes. Although I had long since abandoned belief in a God who intervenes at our request, this stranger’s kind prayer for my safety and the safety of the driver who had hit me caused me to burst into tears. After I collected myself, I noticed that five other witnesses had pulled over and were standing in the rain in the busy intersection to check on me and give me their contact information. The man who pulled me from my car asked what he could do to help while we waited for the ambulance to arrive and I asked if he would check on the other driver. He asked one of the other witnesses to watch me, and he went to check on the other driver. He returned and reported that she was fine and only had a minor foot injury. By this time the other witnesses were starting to leave. The helpful stranger gathered all their contact info, gave it to me, and disappeared as paramedics arrived.

Just the day prior to this accident I had brought my husband home from a hospital stay following a series of several strokes. I was feeling feeling scared, vulnerable, and alone. The compassion of these six strangers in the wake of my accident, and in particular the one who pulled me from the car and prayed for and with me, shocked me and moved me in a way that makes it difficult for me to recount this story– even years later– without crying.

The Role of Mindfulness in Fostering Compassion

So what caused these six complete strangers to pull over, get out of their cars, and stand in the rain in the middle of a busy Dallas intersection during a rainstorm at lunchtime to assist me?

I can’t say for certain. But I feel confident they were motivated in part by compassion.

Compassion literally means to “suffer together.” Scientists describe compassion as the feeling that arises when someone witnesses suffering and feels motivated to alleviate it in some way.

Studies have shown that cultivating compassion can reduce anxiety and depression, increase self-care, and improve our connection with others.

Mindfulness practice can help open our hearts to compassion. The more mindful we are, meaning the more nonjudgemental awareness we practice, the more willing we are to turn toward suffering and allow our hearts to be touched by it.

Rachel Naomi Remen, author of Kitchen Table Wisdom: Stories That Heal, writes, “When I have forgiven myself and remembered who I am, I will bless everyone and everything I see.”

To experience compassion, we must recognize our connectedness and understand that we are part of the world and not separate from it.

Reflections on Compassion and Connectedness

Thich Nhat Hanh wrote the following poem in the wake of the Vietnam War and said this about it, “After a long meditation, I wrote this poem. In it, there are three people: the twelve-year-old girl, the pirate, and me. Can we look at each other and recognize ourselves in each other? The title of the poem is “Please Call Me by My True Names,” because I have so many names. When I hear one of the these names, I have to say, ‘Yes.’”

 

Content warning: violence, war, sexual assault, death, suicide

Please Call Me by My True Names by Thich Nhat Hanh

Don’t say that I will depart tomorrow —
even today I am still arriving.
Look deeply: every second I am arriving
to be a bud on a Spring branch,
to be a tiny bird, with still-fragile wings,
learning to sing in my new nest,
to be a caterpillar in the heart of a flower,
to be a jewel hiding itself in a stone.

I still arrive, in order to laugh and to cry,
to fear and to hope.

The rhythm of my heart is the birth and death
of all that is alive.

I am the mayfly metamorphosing
on the surface of the river.
And I am the bird
that swoops down to swallow the mayfly.

I am the frog swimming happily
in the clear water of a pond.
And I am the grass-snake
that silently feeds itself on the frog.

I am the child in Uganda, all skin and bones,
my legs as thin as bamboo sticks.
And I am the arms merchant,
selling deadly weapons to Uganda.

I am the twelve-year-old girl,
refugee on a small boat,
who throws herself into the ocean
after being raped by a sea pirate.
And I am the pirate,
my heart not yet capable
of seeing and loving.

I am a member of the politburo,
with plenty of power in my hands.
And I am the man who has to pay
his “debt of blood” to my people
dying slowly in a forced-labor camp.

My joy is like Spring, so warm
it makes flowers bloom all over the Earth.
My pain is like a river of tears,
so vast it fills the four oceans.

Please call me by my true names,
so I can hear all my cries and my laughter at once,
so I can see that my joy and pain are one.

Please call me by my true names,
so I can wake up,
and so the door of my heart
can be left open,
the door of compassion.

As Thich Nhat Hanh wrote, I am all of these people. I am not separate. My mindfulness practice helps me remember this, even as I vote, organize, and work to bring my own political positions to life in the world, often in opposition to the views of friends, family, and strangers. May I always remember—and especially in election years—that I am part of this interdependent web of life.

I’ve long since recovered from the injuries sustained in my wreck all those years ago, but I often think of the six strangers who stood in the rain to help me. I don’t know who they are voting for in this election, and I don’t need to know to be grateful for their humanity and compassion. I reached out to them in the days following the accident to thank them for stopping to assist me. They all expressed concern and were relieved to hear that I was ok and healing. I reached all except the man who pulled me from my car and prayed for me. The number he gave me was the wrong number, and the name he gave returned no results in a search. But I remain forever grateful for his kindness and compassion.

 

Tracy

 

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