Last week I was scrolling through my Facebook feed when I came upon something disturbing. There was a dog that needed a new home because his family had decided to do some traveling. People were sharing the post like crazy. But that’s not all they were doing.
They were calling the dog’s family terrible names. They were accusing them of heinous, reckless behavior. They were spewing some of the ugliest vitriol I’ve read online. And, as sad as I was for the dog – and I was very sad for him – I was sadder for the world. Because we are consumed by our own rage. And we don’t even see it.
People who know me know I’m a softie and a champion for dogs. I can’t imagine any scenario whereby I’d give up my own, so it’s hard for me to wrap my head around this family’s decision. Although I said nothing, my first reaction was also one of anger and disbelief.
But I’ve noticed something about myself lately: Whether I’m watching the news or driving or waiting on line or trying to figure out how my TV works, I move with lightning speed from frustration to irritation to rage. Maybe it’s the political climate or my age or a sudden uptick in annoying people and mystifying electronics, but compassion – for myself and for others – is getting harder and harder to access.
So here’s what I do when I find myself feeling unkindly toward someone I don’t even know: I imagine them with a beloved dog or cat. This helps me see them not as irritant but as human, as a vulnerable person with real feelings and hopes and disappointments and dreams.