Be Nobody (22 page)

True love—again, not just romantic love but love in all its forms—is an exercise in selflessness, the leap out of the stifling confines of our own individuality and into another's life and their desires, their cares, their difficulties.

The world's spiritual traditions have, in one voice, extolled such altruistic substitution for myopic self-absorption. This is not only because it's “nice” or “good” to be concerned with the well-being of others. It's also because, when we are able to think about somebody other than ourselves, we by necessity must drop the egoistic demands of the “somebody self.” The little voice inside stops its
me, me, me
refrain and a different mantra is heard:
What about you? What can I do for you?

The essence of, and precondition for, selfless love is empathy, the ability to put oneself in another's position, to feel what they must be feeling and to relate to what they must be thinking. While the degree to which we are able to do this varies, the more we empathize with another, the less we are preoccupied with ourselves—and therefore, the more relief we get from the isolation and burden of our disconnected individuality.

Empathy, the prerequisite of altruistic love and compassion, itself depends upon the assumption that others are essentially no different than us. This is why this kind of self-sacrificial emotion is relatively easy (although by no means always practiced) with our families, lovers, and friends. Because we identify with them, we can
relatively easily love them “as ourselves”—to “love your neighbor as yourself,” as Jesus put it.
^I

But it's not just those close to us who are like us. We saw way back in chapter 1 that “we're all in the same boat”: we all equally are suffering, and we all equally have the desire, innate capability, and right to be happy.

This recognition of the fundamental equality of all human beings (or maybe it would be better to say of all living beings, for animals also share in these two big facts of life) lies behind the invariable principles that should guide all of our responses to others and their actions. We've mentioned them before; they are universally extolled and sometimes referred to as the Golden and Silver Rules:

 Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

 Do not do unto others as you would not have them do unto you.

Because we know how we feel when others treat us either kindly or poorly, we know how we should treat them. It is the assumption of our basic equality that makes empathy possible, and, in turn, informs us about how to interact with others with love and respect—friends as well as enemies.

•  •  •

It is also our ability to empathize—to put ourselves in another's shoes—that provides another clue as to why and how karma really works when it comes to our actions vis-à-vis others. Why is it a karmic “law” that what goes around
unfailingly
comes around? Why couldn't something bad come from something good, and vice versa?

Karma, as we argued in the last chapter, is not operating “out there” as a “law of nature,” but rather works to determine our perception
of ourselves and of the external world.
^II
Karma as an explanatory system is not about why and how other people are the way they are, or about why and how events occur the way they do. It explains how and why we experience people and events (and also, of course, ourselves) the way we do.

Karma in its causal dimension depends on
intention
. Because we know how it feels to be hurt, for example, we can formulate the intention to hurt others. Similarly, we know how to show compassion, goodwill, and respect because we have been on the receiving end of others' positive actions toward us. We know how it feels to be loved, and because of that we know how to love.

But, as in our previous discussion concerning interdependence, we have to again drop the other shoe: because we know what it feels like to intend to hurt others, we know what it feels like to be hurt.

Suffering and pain don't come so much from the words of another—they're just syllables and decibels until they are
interpreted
as words
meant to be hurtful
. Even when it comes to harmful physical actions done to us, although the body itself may be injured, we are nevertheless much more liable to excuse and forgive if we believe the damage has been done accidentally or unwillingly. It is, again, the cruel motivation that makes the deed most upsetting and least pardonable. The deeper pain is not in the words spoken or even in the physical abuse, but in the belief that it was the other's
intention
to hurt us.

And on the positive side, we know what it feels like to be loved by another because we have loved others. The warmhearted intention we project onto the other is what makes us feel loved, and we can project that intention onto the other because we've already had that same wish ourselves.

This is interdependence when it comes to karma and our relationships with others: (1) Because we know how it feels to be hurt or
loved ourselves, we can formulate the intention to love or hurt others; and (2) because we know what it feels like to intend to hurt or love others, we also know what it feels like to be loved or hurt, as we presume the same intention on the part of another.

Karmic management therefore entails another principle:
Think the best of others
—allow for the possibility that they are basically well-intentioned. Because of this assumption—because of interdependence—you'll think better about yourself, and you'll be more likely to formulate better intentions in your interactions with others. This, in turn, will promote the habit of assuming that others' intentions are fundamentally good, like yours are, and on it goes . . . in an upward spiral.

The usual proverb can be inverted: It is
the road to heaven
, and not to hell, that i
s paved with good intentions
.

•  •  •

We should pause here to emphasize something about empathy. Empathy infused with love is not some chuckleheaded, naïve, Pollyanna-ish attitude. Our capacity to put ourselves in another's position allows us to think well of others—repeat this mantra:
we're all just doing our best
—but it also recognizes that others are just like us in another way.

We're all equally fallible; we all make mistakes; we all are liable to succumb to our worst tendencies and to do and say things that we know, when the mental afflictions don't have their death grip on us, are wrong and hurtful.

“
Homo sum, humani nihil a me alienum puto
,” wrote the playwright Terence nearly two thousand years ago. “I'm a human being. Nothing human is foreign to me.”
⁸
And that refers both to our human capacity for virtue and to our common inability to always exhibit it.

And so empathy also inspires us to consideration, tolerance, and forgiveness when it comes to the other people in our lives. Just as we hope others will cut us a break when we fail, similarly we can use empathy to give others the benefit of the doubt. This too is a form of seeing the best in others, for, as we all know, “doing our best” does not always mean we win the Big Smackdown with our own negative emotions. Sometimes our best when it comes to a particularly challenging situation does not reflect our idealistic best.

The smartest response to others' mistakes and shortcomings is guided not by self-righteousness rooted in pride and egoism; rather, it is guided by the exercise of our wisdom and compassion, both of which are grounded in a recognition of our common humanity.

We can both appreciate the goodness in others as well as acknowledge our shared failings if we exercise empathetic love. Such a perspective brings us closer to one another rather than keeping us apart. Such a point of view is essential for overcoming the separation we feel when we over-identify with the “somebody self” as if it were somehow cordoned off from other beings who are essentially just like us.

Reflection on the nature of our relationships with others helps us understand the artificial, and therefore porous and expandable, boundaries of our own selfhood. We all have the capacity to stretch the borderlines of our identity such that the small individual self encompasses others. And in the process, the ego is subsumed within a larger whole.

When we lose ourselves in empathetic identification with others—with our children or parents, our lovers or friends, but also with those we find difficult (and these are not mutually exclusive categories!)—we get an inkling of the joys and benefits of dropping the “somebody self” and
being nobody
.

There are two objections I often hear when it comes to the spiritual teachings on selflessness in relation to others.

The first objection concerns dysfunctional relationships involving repeated incidents of abuse. Our closest relationships can, unfortunately, be our most traumatic when they've gone seriously awry.
Should I stay or should I leave
is a question I'm often asked. And the inevitable answer is, “It depends.”

It is not a compassionate act to allow yourself to be a doormat. Obviously it's not good for you. Being the repeated object of another's aggression places you in the role of “helpless victim”—and this is neither a pleasant nor beneficial carnival cutout to stick your face in. We are all equally entitled to respect from others—and that includes you!

But a relationship characterized by such abuse is also not good for the one who's using you as the doormat. Entering into and perpetuating an association where we allow another person to hurt us over and over again is not good for that other person. Hurting others is wrong, and those who hurt others are creating some very nasty karma for themselves. Out of love and compassion
for both yourself and your partner
, you must put a stop to it.

Empathy can once again guide us. People who hurt other people are not happy people. We know this from our own experience. When we are deeply troubled inside, we often seek relief by taking it out on others. Misery, as they say, loves company. The proper response to the suffering of others—even or especially the suffering that causes people to lash out in violent speech or actions—is compassion.

Compassion
: to suffer together. And with such empathy for the other's pain, we can determine the best course of action should we find ourselves in an abusive relationship.

Stay or leave?
It may be possible to stay and try to work things out, perhaps with the help of a good therapist, such that the cycle of mistreatment is broken. But it might also be necessary to leave in order to end an unhealthy codependency where negative karma for all concerned continues to be reproduced.

In either case, empathetic love will help point us in the right direction. Instead of basing our decision on what we think will be most advantageous for ourselves, we turn our attention to the other:

What's best for him or her? Can I really help this person end the abusive behavior by staying, or do I need to vacate the relationship in order to stop perpetuating this unhealthy codependency?

Don't forget:
being nobody
does not mean being a worthless nothing;
being nobody
is not the same as being a victimized, traumatized, doormat somebody. What is called for is the willingness to drop our inveterate self-centeredness. And also remember, if it doesn't bring the release that comes from laying down the burden of selfishness, it ain't really being nobody.

The other objection many of us have when it comes to losing the “somebody self” in our love for others is what has been labeled “compassion fatigue.” People in the helping professions, or just overtaxed parents and caregivers, sometimes claim to be burned out or drained from “too much compassion.”
I give and I give and I give, and now I'm exhausted. I need a little “me time”!