That’s what she said, the interviewee on the radio this morning, referring to some issues I cannot quite recall now, this evening, about to eat dinner. It might have been the family who’s son was killed the night before, or it might have been the victims of the earthquake in Japan, or the slightly newer one in Ecuador, or the families of the drowned refugees near Italy, or the others near Libya, or the victims of the Zika virus, or the estimated 19 million struggling- below-the-poverty-line in Russia, or the recent native suicides, or attempted suicides, or the folk waiting to hear our government’s decision on doctor assisted dying with dignity, or the dead and injured on the bus bombing in Jerusalem.
That’s life in the information matrix, though, isn’t it? Tragedy and suffering sweep across the planet moment by moment and we are tugged this way and that by our heartstrings, playing us like puppets as we practice the arts of daily life with a view to earning our keep.
And as we move about our tasks and routines we wonder what on earth we can do about suffering elsewhere. Pray, meditate, pour the energy of compassion from our caring hearts? And how to direct that energy, to where, to whom, and how often? Do we have an inexhaustible supply?
Personally, and by that I mean each individual, we do not. But by linking consciously to the divine sources of such energies, we do. Now how that supply of compassion translates into anything we might think of as action or amelioration of suffering is a matter for doubt and debate among the doubters. You can channel that energy as an act of service without expectation of result or you can rationalize your resistance in careful argument.
Donating money and time to disaster relief is certainly an option for those of a generous and self-sacrificing nature, even more so if one has the freedom to hop on a plane and parachute oneself into the vortex. An option I have exercised from time to time goes under the rubric of ‘soul rescue’. As first responders dig through rubble and care for the wounded, I and those like me, move through the ethers in our astral or mental bodies, recently detached from a meditating or sleeping physical, and sweep through the trauma sites looking for the lost and confused dead, of which there are usually many. They are stuck in the physical bodies in shock and terror, or they are floating about, rapidly becoming anxious and maybe hungry ghosts. We know how to confront them in one of a variety of guises that will match their expectations of spirits and angels, talk them into a semblance of calmness and transport them to the spirit plane most suited to their cultural and religious needs.
Once learned these abilities come quite naturally and require little celebration or ego gratification. We know that our efforts are nothing compared to the gargantuan struggles of those in the physical, tenderly removing the burnt, broken and mangled. And of course, it is all compassion in action, our hearts going out to the ‘them’ we merge with to make the transition.