((Helping one person sometimes seems like it will not make a difference in the world))
This ambiguity in service brings to mind the sympathetic imagination and the barrier one must overcome in order to unify with another thing. Just as Margaret writes, I have experienced or witnessed little suffering in my life. This inexperience definitely limits my ability to understand what a suffering individual feels, but it also offers an opportunity for me to use the “imagination” part of my sympathetic imagination. I can remember the pain I have felt, say, from an ended relationship or a suicidal death of a loved one, and can assume that the people that suffer may feel similar and greater anguish. I can help to the best of my ability, yet every time I feel like I am trying to find a dropped ring in a dark room, stumbling and probing my way around. Lending a listening ear to someone, I do not know if I truly help. During my weekly visits to mentor an eighth grader, for instance, I often feel unprepared to support my student as she discusses suffering caused by child abuse, bitter arguments, and family separation caused by immigration and crime. I can only listen and offer my wisdom, but as Ram Dass asks and as I wrote in my P4, I sometimes think, “are we making any difference [in the world] anyway” (Dass 184)? This uncertainty can lead to cynicism but it can also lead to trust that small actions can affect people in unexpected and good ways. I certainly know that a casual comment from a friend, not even directed toward me, can brighten my day or make me see a problem from a new perspective.
This ambiguity in service brings to mind the sympathetic imagination and the barrier one must overcome in order to unify with another thing. Just as Margaret writes, I have experienced or witnessed little suffering in my life. This inexperience definitely limits my ability to understand what a suffering individual feels, but it also offers an opportunity for me to use the “imagination” part of my sympathetic imagination. I can remember the pain I have felt, say, from an ended relationship or a suicidal death of a loved one, and can assume that the people that suffer may feel similar and greater anguish. I can help to the best of my ability, yet every time I feel like I am trying to find a dropped ring in a dark room, stumbling and probing my way around. Lending a listening ear to someone, I do not know if I truly help. During my weekly visits to mentor an eighth grader, for instance, I often feel unprepared to support my student as she discusses suffering caused by child abuse, bitter arguments, and family separation caused by immigration and crime. I can only listen and offer my wisdom, but as Ram Dass asks and as I wrote in my P4, I sometimes think, “are we making any difference [in the world] anyway” (Dass 184)? This uncertainty can lead to cynicism but it can also lead to trust that small actions can affect people in unexpected and good ways. I certainly know that a casual comment from a friend, not even directed toward me, can brighten my day or make me see a problem from a new perspective.
((This is a religious portrayal of reconciliation))
Both the hindering and unifying aspects of uncertainty manifest themselves in reconciliation. Reconciliation, to me, carries religious overtones (and I now realize that all of the service topics relate to religion since they involve ambiguity and faith). Yet I love Ram Dass’ description of reconciliation as “a continuous state of consciousness,” one in which we are simultaneously friend and enemy in a battle (Dass 177). It reminds me that in compassion one must reach beyond natural selfish tendencies and try to see the world through others’ eyes. Indeed, Dass’ definition of reconciliation fits perfectly into my college life and roommate issues that I wrote about in another discussion board! Ever since my roommate gave me the silent treatment and made my room a dreaded rather than comforting area, I noticed that I did not tell her things or keep her updated about my life even after we “reconciled.” I was angry at the way she expressed her anger at me, and I perpetuated the coldness my continuing it in my actions. Coming back from spring break, however, I have decided to be very friendly and outgoing with my once-very-good-friend-roommate. And amazingly I feel like the iciness has finally melted. It took me taking on a positive mindset and pushing past my desires protect myself emotionally to make it work. And I know that I will have to continually remind myself of my new state of consciousness to continue the state of reconciliation.
This state of consciousness can be applied to social action in that we must remember that we are both friend and foe. In “helping” we may try to impose our views upon others. The ambiguity of helping makes this even more likely. In helping I think that we try to move from separateness to unity. Along the way we may encounter uncertainty but we can strive to reach harmony and Akaido.