I had a discussion with two friends last night. Two of the most loving, kind and authentic human beings I’ve ever met. When I used the term “turning the stream of compassion within,” they both bristled.
Rather than skirt the issue, and try and second-guess them with meaningless questions, I asked but one: “Why the problem with self-love?” (BTW, I’ve always felt that the importance placed on loving our neighbors as ourselves was meant for our benefit — not our neighbors).
Quite a bit of dialogue followed, and the theme that emerged from their side of the fence was that our culture spends quite a bit of time loving itself, thank you. A bit more emphasis on the “other guy” was what we needed.
Under normal circumstances, I’d relish a bit of the ol’ “I’m right, you’re not,” over a cup of coffee and a cigarette, but I quit both smoking and debating to hear myself talk, twenty years ago.
Besides, lecturing on love to this couple was the equivalent of trying to impress Al Einstein with my grasp of sub-atomic particles.(This reminds me of the definition of chutzpah: a man walks into a bookstore and says: “I’d like a book on chutzpah and I’d like you to pay for it.”)
The outcome? A clear understanding that you can talk about honey, or actually reach in, grab a handful of the wax-filled golden nectar, all the while, watchin’ the bees dance.