Compassion and the Moral Imperative

Wednesday morning the 5th of November was a bittersweet day for me. I took my son to school per usual but felt weighed down by my brothers and sisters in Ca who had struggled for months to block Proposition 8. On the one hand Barack Obama was on his way to the White House, what a victory for Civil Rights, what a victory for so many of a generation who witnessed Dr. Martin Luther King’s ‘I have a dream” speech, who witnessed the rise and fall of Jesse Jackson in 1984 and thought, someday. But I could not bring myself to be happy. Yes, I am delirious that Obama made it. As a democrat I could not be prouder of my country but as a resident of California I was so disappointed with the passage of Prop 8.

After dropping my son off at school I decided to go to the local market and buy myself some solace in a bottle of Cabernet. As I made my way to the store front I tripped on a piece of black plastic strapping. I fell to the ground too hard and fast for my nearly 40 years to fall. It took a few seconds for me to even realise what had happened. As I checked my surroundings, my shoes in disarray and off my feet from the force of the fall. I saw two people who had watched me fall get into their car. I had fallen 20 feet in front of their car….they watched. They did not come over to assist me, they did not ask if I was OK but they did watch me and as I became more aware of what had happened they drove off. Disgusting. I have always been one to lend assistance to people in need, regardless of whether or not they asked for it, so for me the actions of these strangers was an ultimate betrayal. In shock I made my way to the store, put the back strapping around a poll inside the store and purchased my bottle of wine. I went home and felt victimized. How can another human being watch someone get hurt and not feel compelled to give assistance?

As of two days later I am still recovering. Pride intact. I do feel my recovery time would have been cut in half if someone in that parking lot cared enough about another human being to take a minute out of their day to assist me getting to my feet and asking if I was ok. Compassion.

I have not been the most compassionate person when it comes to my family especially, with my mother and her chronic aches and pains. I have not been very compassionate when my husband, who travels extensively for business, gets sick. Mea culpa. Karma? Perhaps. Things happen for a reason, divine interventions way of reminding us of our past infractions and the ramifications they have had on others. Often to help us, if we did not learn from them before, to learn from them now. I will be more compassionate with both my husband and my mother. I earned this fall and the bruises and sore muscles that accompany it.