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Compassion

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I will not pretend that I am some angel. Some godsend. Some cure-all or silver bullet. In fact, I am quite the opposite. Lotuses do not grow from my step as I trip and tread down a grassy path. Water does not turn to wine at my will. I will not pretend that I can save everyone. Or anyone. But – does this mean I should try any less? Must one be remarkable to help someone lost? To feed a stray or love the loveless? It is not selflessness or pity, as one might think. I do not think of what will become of myself or of them. I do not think that God is giving me a challenge, a choice, a test. I do not think at all. I just do. Whether it is right or wrong in anyone’s eyes – I do not know. It is as simple as having an apple in your hand and seeing a starving child. What it becomes is a matter of impulse, instinct. No forethought. Choices mustn’t always be planned eleven moves ahead. Life is not a chess game. It is a wave crashing on a shore. No one knows what will become of it, not even the water it contains. It is a ripple. A gust of wind. It is not something predictable, so why try to?



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