A couple of months ago, I was cleaning up our yard when I encountered something that deeply saddened me. A tiny deformed baby bird was lying dead, a few feet from a nest that a robin had built on the porch light of our back porch many moons ago. This nest has been used every spring for the past few years, by one bird species or another. One tiny bird – a chickadee, perhaps? – had built an even smaller nest inside it to raise her miniature offspring. Now the nest was barren, this spring’s baby robins having left to forge new paths for themselves. This poor tiny creature was left behind.
Did it attempt to fly prematurely? Not likely… it was far too weak and deformed, with an enlarged head and eyes and tiny stubs instead of wings. I did a little research on this, and discovered that a mother bird will remove a baby from the nest if she knows it will not thrive. The delicate side of my human nature was appalled and disgusted by this possible reality. Did she not feel any sort of instinctual love or compassion for her own offspring? Did she not even want to try to raise it, even though it wasn’t perfect? Why was she so cruel? These thoughts – and a few more – filled my head as I did more research. It was later that I discovered that the face of compassion can look a bit different in nature. If a newborn animal is sick, feeble, or unable to thrive, it will often be rejected or even destroyed by its mother because, as difficult as it is for us to accept, it is understood that this creature would only suffer if it were nurtured further.
We humans also have a spark in us that encourages us to make compassionate choices, albeit in a different sense. In the 20th and 21st centuries, we have invented medicine, devices and programs that have allowed many people to live longer, more enriched lives despite their health conditions. Even in the 19th century, great strides were made in caring for wounds and people with contagious diseases. We are always working on the next groundbreaking treatment for injuries and illnesses – but what about compassion for those wounds we can’t see?
Compassion for those who are suffering in a different sense – mental illness, trauma from emotional or physical abuse and exploitation, a lifetime of rejection and marginalization – is actually more challenging in a lot of ways. It forces us to stop and look inside ourselves, to confront what is keeping us from reacting with kindness and understanding and a willingness to help. We should not push people out of the proverbial nest of society because they look incapable or weak. Perhaps there’s a reason, and all they need is some understanding and a helping hand. Human ingenuity is astounding, but human resilience is even more powerful. How can you extend compassion to someone in need of it?
