" ...the irony of collapsing while exercising, choking on broccoli, or overdosing on health supplements...."
You don't bring out your sense of humor very often, Charles. It is a real treat when you do. By the way, that kale will kill you. I suggest switching to baby spinach -- much less dangerous. Although I find if I add coconut oil to kale it makes it easier to scrape into the garbage can... just saying.
Much enjoyed reading this piece and I what follows might not quite fit your definition of empathy but these words of Ian McEwan still echo in me some 22 years after first reading them. A powerful evocation of imagining yourself into the mind of another...
"This is the nature of empathy, to think oneself into the minds of others. These are the mechanics of compassion: you are under the bedclothes, unable to sleep, and you are crouching in the brushed-steel lavatory at the rear of the plane, whispering a final message to your loved one. There is only that one thing to say, and you say it. All else is pointless. You have very little time before some holy fool, who believes in his place in eternity, kicks in the door, slaps your head and orders you back to your seat. 23C. Here is your seat belt. There is the magazine you were reading before it all began.
The banality of these details might overwhelm you. If you are not already panicking, you are clinging to a shred of hope that the captain, who spoke with such authority as the plane pushed back from the stand, will rise from the floor, his throat uncut, to take the controls...
If the hijackers had been able to imagine themselves into the thoughts and feelings of the passengers, they would have been unable to proceed. It is hard to be cruel once you permit yourself to enter the mind of your victim. Imagining what it is like to be someone other than yourself is at the core of our humanity. It is the essence of compassion, and it is the beginning of morality."
Based on those paragraphs, it is close to how I perceive the word, especially with the line "to think oneself into the minds of others." Thank you for the kind words and for your thoughts, Harry.
Yes the first sentence grabbed me. I find it difficult to type after needle prick for a blood test. But then again, you said “this week”, rather than “today,” so I wonder if you had to wait several days before typing.
I don’t think the word to use is relatable, not even empathy. I felt the sting in my finger, remembering my own experience with a knife in the kitchen.
(By the way, I always tear my kale, I never cut it)
I think our society is hurtling towards “unhealthy,” but not because some of us find kale as palatable as cardboard. It’s because of those smiling protagonists and happy audiences, who favor piffle over vulnerability and depth. In contrast. Claire Keegan’s novella “Foster” was lovely, and so was its film version, retitled “The Quiet Girl.” It was lovely because there was vulnerability and hardship and loss and beauty, all wrapped up in a quietly beautiful story of refinement and elegance. We need more of that. More universal stories of elegance and vulnerability to remind us of our shared humanity, chopped fingertips and all!
I appreciate the phrase "quietly beautiful story." There's a depth to Keegan's writing that is rare, I agree, and it isn't accomplished in a confrontational or flamboyant way. More stories with richness and weight like hers would certainly be for the best. Thank you for the comment, John.
Those who are willing to be vulnerable move among mysteries. Thank you, Charles!
Thank you for the comment, Paul.
"How could I possibly relate to eating kale?"
" ...the irony of collapsing while exercising, choking on broccoli, or overdosing on health supplements...."
You don't bring out your sense of humor very often, Charles. It is a real treat when you do. By the way, that kale will kill you. I suggest switching to baby spinach -- much less dangerous. Although I find if I add coconut oil to kale it makes it easier to scrape into the garbage can... just saying.
Thank you for the kind words and the comment, Sharron.
Much enjoyed reading this piece and I what follows might not quite fit your definition of empathy but these words of Ian McEwan still echo in me some 22 years after first reading them. A powerful evocation of imagining yourself into the mind of another...
"This is the nature of empathy, to think oneself into the minds of others. These are the mechanics of compassion: you are under the bedclothes, unable to sleep, and you are crouching in the brushed-steel lavatory at the rear of the plane, whispering a final message to your loved one. There is only that one thing to say, and you say it. All else is pointless. You have very little time before some holy fool, who believes in his place in eternity, kicks in the door, slaps your head and orders you back to your seat. 23C. Here is your seat belt. There is the magazine you were reading before it all began.
The banality of these details might overwhelm you. If you are not already panicking, you are clinging to a shred of hope that the captain, who spoke with such authority as the plane pushed back from the stand, will rise from the floor, his throat uncut, to take the controls...
If the hijackers had been able to imagine themselves into the thoughts and feelings of the passengers, they would have been unable to proceed. It is hard to be cruel once you permit yourself to enter the mind of your victim. Imagining what it is like to be someone other than yourself is at the core of our humanity. It is the essence of compassion, and it is the beginning of morality."
https://amp.theguardian.com/world/2001/sep/15/september11.politicsphilosophyandsociety2
Based on those paragraphs, it is close to how I perceive the word, especially with the line "to think oneself into the minds of others." Thank you for the kind words and for your thoughts, Harry.
Yes the first sentence grabbed me. I find it difficult to type after needle prick for a blood test. But then again, you said “this week”, rather than “today,” so I wonder if you had to wait several days before typing.
I don’t think the word to use is relatable, not even empathy. I felt the sting in my finger, remembering my own experience with a knife in the kitchen.
(By the way, I always tear my kale, I never cut it)
I think our society is hurtling towards “unhealthy,” but not because some of us find kale as palatable as cardboard. It’s because of those smiling protagonists and happy audiences, who favor piffle over vulnerability and depth. In contrast. Claire Keegan’s novella “Foster” was lovely, and so was its film version, retitled “The Quiet Girl.” It was lovely because there was vulnerability and hardship and loss and beauty, all wrapped up in a quietly beautiful story of refinement and elegance. We need more of that. More universal stories of elegance and vulnerability to remind us of our shared humanity, chopped fingertips and all!
I appreciate the phrase "quietly beautiful story." There's a depth to Keegan's writing that is rare, I agree, and it isn't accomplished in a confrontational or flamboyant way. More stories with richness and weight like hers would certainly be for the best. Thank you for the comment, John.