Cici calls me today and tells me this horrible saga about a near-accident in the Megamart parking lot today. And she tells me (me, of all people!) that she worries she lacked compassion for the party involved in the story.
Compassion. Clearly, Cici calls me because she subconsciously wants reaffirmation in the lack of compassion department. She could have called Hitler and received lessons in compassion. But, no. She called me.
I consider my weakness in compassion to be genetic. Ironically, I would say, my sister and I have adopted a zero tolerance policy toward humanity. No Three Strikes. No mulligans. No exceptions. If you somehow demonstrate weakness, frailty, or incompetence you might as well forget it. If you can't accept your failure with grace and a martini, well then, we're not interested in your story. Don't come to us for compassion. Being the daughters of a shrink, I think I speak for both of us when I say our lack of compassion can be traced back to childhood. My parents, polar opposites on the compassion scale, treated us with either doting love or a shrug and a word about gumption. "If it hurts when you go like this, don't go like this." (I am not sure if this is related to my sister's subsequent hypochondria, but it would be an interesting sideline.)
So Cici's freaked out driver was traumatized by a non-near-accident, and couldn't pull herself together. Now, I say. You don't need to call the woman's family. She accepts potential risks of driving by driving. No one was hurt, nearly hurt, or even sort of nearly hurt and neither were their vehicles. So. Pull yourself together, woman, and move on.
Everyone feels as though they are the center of their own universe. And here we are, carrying our giant universes around like bubbles around us. And if that disproportionately huge universe receives a nick (maybe because it was soo huge), everyone freaks. We need to reduce our universes to solar systems, and insulate ourselves a little less. There are plenty of people on this planet who need our compassion, I'm thinking that some one owning an automobile and driving through the MegaMart parking lot is not high on the global list. And yes, I think compassion should be meted out on a relative amount. Compassion is related to deep sorrow and tragedy.
Now, the next time I come whining to you about how I gained four pounds, hand me a martini and say, "stop eating."
