We, The Pirates: A Fresh Perspective on Universal Compassion
Separateness: A Barrier to Compassion
“You know,” my sister said as we watched a beach crowd one summer, “I’m not really convinced the rest of you are real.”
I turned to her and asked if we’re not real, then what are we?
She thought about it. “Robots,” she decided. “The rest of you are robots.”
It was a charming and relatable moment. For indeed, without experiencing another person’s experience directly, it can be a bit difficult to remember that we’re not the only human being on the planet. That might be why drivers have so little impatience with one another. Instead of seeing the human behind the wheel, we reduce those situations to ‘me’ versus ‘that bozo’ or ‘that car.’
Even if we don’t currently think this way, many of us have been in the place my sister was. We’re the center of our own universes, after all; so why not? With infinitely many variations between each human being, we’re basically taught that everyone is a separate entity.
It takes conscious effort to acknowledge another’s experience and everything that comes with it. To feel, and demonstrate, compassion. For many people, compassion only extends to those we love and (at the very least) those we can tolerate. It’s rare to find someone who is as open-hearted to a criminal as they are with their own mother.
Why is this so, when every being on the planet is connected by the same threads of life?
Ego and the Illusion of a Separate Self
The vast majority of us have a whole library of personal stories, identities, roles, preferences, attitudes, ideals, and opinions that we claim as uniquely ours. Tacking on our individual physical features, names, and birthdates, we really convince ourselves we’re set apart.
This idea of ‘separate self’ is often referred to as the ego. It’s a culmination of everything we believe ourselves to be. That seemingly inherent feeling of ‘I’-ness.
When we cling to those individual identities, craving for that (false) sense of security of self, we compartmentalize ourselves. In this way, financial status facilitates communities, political stances dictate friendships, and nationalism ensures ironclad defense against so-called enemies.
Whether subliminal or obvious, this sort of categorizing—separating ‘I’ from ‘you,’ ‘us’ from ‘them,’ and ‘we’ from ‘they’—fosters inequality and fear. Inequalities form whenever decisions are made out of power and pride. The fear, which is often masked by defensiveness, comes from any perceived threat to one’s sanctity of self.
The egoic mind crowns itself existentially superior and builds a barricade to protect itself from the elusive ‘other.’ And that barricade protects and strengthens the ego, all right—but it also shuts out awareness and compassion.
Edging Grace Out (EGO)
There’s a rather convenient way to look at this. In steadfastly protecting our self-concepts, we Edge Grace Out.
When we’re so deeply entrenched in seeing the world as categorical, our sense of Oneness is smothered. We live immersed in complete mind-identification, rushing about with a constant stream of thoughts in our heads and a mile-long list of Very Important Things To Do. (And let’s keep this straight: most times, my things are more important than your things.)
The ego is never actually satisfied, either. It’s insatiable. Like bellows for a fire, the push-and-pull of duality constantly fuels conflict, which the ego thrives on. For how else would it establish rightness or superiority without the opposing forces of wrongness and inferiority?
In this way, we enslave ourselves to… well, ourselves. Without pausing to see how things really are, ignorance and self-interest block any perception of our true nature as universal beings.
Fear, Resistance, and the Advent of Other-ness
Fear and resistance are at the root of hatred and repulsion—alternatively written as ‘other-ness.’
At times, the sense of other-ness is so strong that our resistance escalates to destruction. We declare war against ourselves, other people, and entire nations, acting and reacting in ways that maintain our illusions of control. Violence and inhumanity become acceptable (even endorsable) options when perceptions of superiority are involved.
It’s like the repulsion that occurs when trying to marry two similar magnetic poles. Their magnetic forces might be the same, but they will repel each other and refuse to meet regardless of how much force is applied. In fact, with more force comes greater pushback. Harmony is only restored when we allow the dissimilar poles to click back together.
But here again, more drastic measures mean more severe pushback. With greater marginalization comes greater demands for justice, which is another fight in itself. Our unconscious conflictions make, and keep, us caught in the drama of opposition.
Perspective: The Monk & The Sea Pirate
It’s one thing to recognize our own thought-patterns and ego-driven behaviors, but to be compassionate toward someone else’s is another battle entirely. How can we palate Adolf Hitler’s heinous dictatorship, for instance? Are we supposed to pardon people who have killed and raped and thieved? Why love someone when it’s so much easier to hate their misdeeds?
The late Zen master Thich Nhat Hanh addressed this paradox in his wartime poem “Please Call Me By My True Names.” Following the Vietnam War, there were countless refugees trying to reach Southeast Asia by boat. As much as half of the refugees died at sea, and sea pirates caused immense suffering for those who survived.
One day, Thich’s spiritual community received a letter from a refugee telling the story of a twelve-year-old girl who was raped by one of these sea pirates. The girl was so distraught that she jumped into the ocean to drown herself. It hit the community especially hard because the monks knew she was one of many, a mere symbol of the atrocities of the Vietnam War.
Conventional reactions to the girl’s story might be of anger, disgust, and judgment. Our hearts break for the girl, of course, but most of our disdain is towards the sea pirate. We create narratives claiming he was a monster, the worst of humanity, one who ‘didn’t even bat an eye’ as he raped a child.
Under this dizzying spell of emotion, the sea pirate is compartmentalized as inhuman—and in effect, an unworthy being.
“Please Call Me By MY True Names”
For most of us, our primal reaction would be to shame and criticize the sea pirate. But great sages such as Thich Nhat Hanh hold an unconditional, immutable compassion for even those who have done unspeakable wrongs. So instead of disparaging the sea pirate, Thich wrote a poem of unity:
Look deeply: every second I am arriving
to be a bud on a Spring branch,
to be a tiny bird, with still-fragile wings,
learning to sing in my new nest,
to be a caterpillar in the heart of a flower,
to be a jewel hiding itself in a stone.
[…]
I am the twelve-year-old girl,
refugee on a small boat,
who throws herself into the ocean
after being raped by a sea pirate.
And I am the pirate,
my heart not yet capable
of seeing and loving.
[…]
Please call me by my true names,
so I can hear all my cries and my laughter at once,
so I can see that my joy and pain are one.
Please call me by my true names,
so I can wake up,
and so the door of my heart
can be left open,
the door of compassion.
The piece is stirring for more reasons than one. But notice: there is no blame or judgment cast upon the sea pirate in the middle stanza. Instead, there’s an impartiality which doesn’t measure the difference between a newborn bird and the twelve-year-old girl and the sea pirate.
Because in truth, each one of us is intrinsically tied to those things.
Circumstances we Mistake as Ourselves
Most of us behave based on what we were taught about operating in society. That is, our personalities, attitudes, reactions, and decisions are largely conditioned by our circumstances and surroundings. They have become unconscious thought-patterns, easily followed and ferocious to challenge.
That’s why we waltz around saying (and believing) things like I am this and she is that. Our compartmentalization is learned and reinforced every day, down to the words we use both in thought and speech.
Yet beneath the dysfunctional, and often technically insane, behaviors we perpetuate separation (i.e. suffering) with, there is a perfect, calm intelligence from which we were manifested. Some call it God while others use soul, consciousness, the Tao, or life-energy. The label is hardly important; it’s merely a word used to aid our rational minds in conceptualizing the indescribable.
The Tao is the energy that underrides all of existence. It’s what produces birdsong, brings the sea rhythmically to shore, and animates each minute cell in our bodies. Every being is vibrant with that energy; it’s even sleeping in rocks and sod and tarmac. As Paramahansa Yogananda was fond of teaching, all beings are but waves on the Infinite Sea.
Recognizing that shared energy—our intrinsic Oneness—is key for true compassion. And true compassion is the gateway to loving the pirate.
Opening our hearts to the Sea pirate
Completely blind to the underlying wisdom of the Tao, the sea pirate could not have acted differently. The ego temporarily shrouds the true nature of Soul; under its spell of identification, people are isolated and quick to feel threatened. Thus, immorality and violence become all the more accessible.
This is why Jesus said Forgive them, for they know not what they do.
If we had the same life conditions as the sea pirate, with his parents, education system, community dynamic, personal experiences, and internal dialogues, then we would have been exactly in his position. We would have also, therefore, been primed to rape the girl refugee.
Of course, this doesn’t take away the heinousness of the sea pirate’s actions. Evil is evil, and should be avoided by living and acting always out of love.
However, to hate a person for his or her unconscious evil act(s) is as counterintuitive as putting one’s hand into a flame. Hatred perpetuates negativity, which not only reinforces the evil-doer’s unhealthy self-concept but also harms the beholder by trapping him in separateness.
Forgiveness is higher than pity, which is a product of the ego’s warped righteousness. Engaged compassion, on the other hand—that is, opening our hearts to Oneness—is the ultimate grace.
We, The Sea Pirates
We seldom want to acknowledge it, but within each of us, there is the capacity to become a pirate, a manipulator, a drug addict, an abuser. Every one has karma to work out and lessons to learn, which accounts for the infinite myriad of life circumstances we find ourselves in.
Remember: We are but waves on the Infinite Sea, mere manifestations of the Tao.
Recognizing that common humanity means seeing yourself in them as well as their essence in you. This is how we dissolve our active and passive feelings of other-ness.
Keep the message of the sea pirate close when you encounter unconsciousness and suffering in the world. Your spaciousness and all-embracing compassion are the most effective extinguishers for chaos and upset. Choose them instead of old habits and assumptions that foster division.
Make that choice consistently, and you’ll find your spirit freed from its historically constant battles. The collective burden which has divided us for centuries will also diminish.
Little by little, day by day, may we open our hearts and rediscover peace.
𓆩✧𓆪
Heavily revised from The New Leaf Project, a previous blog. Original posted on 01 December 2022.