A Question

Do you believe people are all basically good? When I was a little girl, I certainly did. Now, after years of experience in the big wide world, I am not so sure. I don’t believe by any means that people are basically bad. I think the conclusion that I have reached is this. Generally speaking, people are not basically good, or bad. They are basically selfish. My friend Darrell said it best with the phrase that most people would say if they were to be honest:

“Me first, fuck you!”

This does not mean that I am a cynic, though I realize I sound like one. Nonetheless, the truth is that most people will lie, cheat, and steal to get what they want. They will use past events and current trends to justify their actions. Sadly, most of the of the time if people were just honest, they would most likely end up with exactly what they want – sans the complications that inevitably arise from deception.

Nobody’s perfect. How could they be? It’s a relative concept. And I have made mistakes, just like everyone else. I’ve said and done hurtful things. However, as I get older and I learn more about life, I find myself stopping to think for a moment before I act. I think of how my behavior effects others. Is this action loving, or unloving? Kind, or unkind? Is this behavior balanced for all parties involved? This person is someone’s son, or daughter, brother or sister. Somebody loves them very much. Would I want my son or daughter, brother or sister, to be treated by someone else the way I am treating this person?

I’ve also learned that clinging to past hurts and fears is not beneficial. All it does is eat you up from the inside, and most likely will lead to others getting hurt – like an endless cycle of pain. It’s hard, but I’ve learned to forgive. I learn to let go. I use hurtful experiences as opportunities for the future – opportunities to help me remember to always treat others with compassion (though this is not to indicate that I will throw my pearls before swine a second time).

When I was a little girl, I lived on a farm. We had pigs and chickens, horses and cows, sheep and goats. We had turkeys and geese and cats and dogs. My adopted father was quite brutal to these animals. I am a very sensitive person and this cruelty on his part truly disturbed me. When I was 8 years old, he gave me an ax and handed me a chicken and told me to chop it’s head off. I was hysterical. I couldn’t see through the tears in my eyes to do what he asked me to do. He told me that I would get use to it – that I would toughen up and get strong – that animals did not feel pain and therefore did not suffer. But I did not believe him. I knew they suffered and as time passed, I only became more sensitive to that suffering.

I am like a pale skinned person who goes out in the sun and gets burned, but never tanned. I get hurt, but I don’t get calloused. I crawl under my rock for awhile and lick my wounds, and when I come out I am not harder. I am only wiser, and more sensitive. I am more kind than I was before.

I am an anomaly, I guess. I believe, however, if more people took a couple of seconds to think about how their actions effect others – that the world would be a much better place. There would be a lot less suffering in this world if we all at least tried to be a little more compassionate.