Old Friends are the Gold Standard

My daughter, Ariel and I spent time this morning with her godfather and my old friend, Lee Perron. I talked about Lee in a previous blog when I spoke of his new book of poetry, Celtic Light. He is Ariel's godfather and has never forgotten his job in that line. Our relationship is priceless to me because, not only have we known each other well for fifty years, but we know each other's families and friends and lovers and partners. It is different from family relationships because we it is by choice that we are friends. I assume that we chose our familial relationships before we are born.

My experience is that when we are separated from friends, one or another drops the ball and friends become memories. These rare, special ones where that doesn't happen can sometimes be closer than family. It is a different use of memory when the relationship last over the decades for we can look back and reflect together. The other thing that struck me this morning was that it doesn't take that many words, or many words at all to be in the same space together, and seeing him made me feel young. it brought me back to the moments when we knew we were the smartest, most beautiful people walking this earth and our potential was limitless. I caught that good feeling this morning and loved it.

I think I might have died of boredom...

I think I might have died of boredom if I had grown up in a small family, had small classes at school or a lot of private lessons. My world was the interactions. I don't think of myself as very competitive, but I do get a bit of a contact high from being around stimulating people and that often translates into doing better or working harder. I like being the instigator. I like being the midwife of whatever is birthing. I don't mind the spotlight, but I am equally comfortable behind the scenes, most comfortable being in the middle of the action.

In terms of meditation, I like sitting alone but I have gotten very buzzed, very deep into meditation sitting with others. When it works, it is wonderful. Sitting with someone like Lisa Schumacher, who radiates love, I feel connected to all of life in one moment. Doing a walking meditation with the people from Spirit Rock and many Buddhist monks across the Golden Gate Bridge, I felt both present in the moment and connected with the past and the future.

The other day I was trying to reassure a friend who is worried about dying alone. I said that we all die alone in one sense and we can never die alone in another sense. I saw my mother light up and sit up days before she died and with a big smile, call out "Mom!". She was not with me in the room at that moment,  she was already being greeted from the other side. She was in that special place between two worlds. I think her preview of the other side would have happened whether we were with her or not. While we were talking, my friend recalled seeing this happen with a patient of her's in the hospital. It was very reassuring.

Whether we are midwifing or experiencing a birth or a death, we obviously have to attend to the physical matters that need attention, but never are the veils so transparent and the spiritual so manifest. I expect to be in the middle of the action whether I am alone of with other people. I have a pretty clear inner picture of this.

To Be or Not to Be? That is the Question.

I have no idea whether my readers in Latvia or China or Indonesia have read much Shakespeare. I have, probably because I had to take a course in college. I remember being irate or at least indignant because Oliver Butterworth, my professor, spent only two lecture periods on each play. "We should spend a whole year on one speech from Hamlet!" I proclaimed, in my 19 year old wisdom.

That was my first sophomore year. I was just joining the first wave of people turning on, tuning in and dropping out. In that Survey of Shakespeare course we had to memorize and recite a sonnet. The sonnet Oliver chose for me has the memorable line "Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds." Perhaps he was more perceptive than I gave him credit for being.

Today, I was teaching my over-stressed, dear friend, how to meditate. It seemed like a good thing to share with him. He is a Nicaraguan who speaks perfect English. He did, after all, live in Miami when he was young. I kind of got into the "To be or not to be" muddle trying to explain that you are awake and aware while meditating, but at the same time you are practicing being empty of your 'monkey mind'. So, you are and you are not.

I had to give up on that line of talk and say, "Let's just meditate and see whether we can be and not be at the same time." He was awesome. After our first short session, he looked younger and deeper.

I used to teach meditation classes. Right now I am doing the Deepak Chopra and Oprah 21 Day Meditation Challenge. It is free online and a beautiful 15 minutes each day with Chopra leading the practice. With such good teachers and such good company, who wouldn't enjoy it? These meditations remind me "to be here now".  Our fears ans stress and anxieties are fully about the past or the future. When we quiet our minds and follow our breath, we are present.

Good Now.

Why Would Anyone Want Hillary to Run?

I believe she flunked her major tests. She voted for the Iraq War. I believe she knew, much more than the 15,000,000 people world wide who protested the war, that it was built on lies. I think she made a self-serving political gamble. I don't like politicians to gamble with destruction. I don't want to have to listen to her justifying her vote with more lies. I also think she was a lousy chief diplomat. She seemed to be rattling her sword every chance she got. I understand that she was serving the President, but I also think she was trying to look tough. She was out-thatchering Margaret Thatcher - also a self-serving posture.

I know a lot of people, women especially, who want a woman elected at any cost. I don't. I want the first woman president to be the right woman.

I can't believe I am already discussing this. I am thinking about it because of today's anniversary of the start of the war. I just looked at the small number of Senators who risked all to say "no" to this ongoing insanity. They were pretty courageous given the pressure that was brought to bear on them. I guess I'll never feel the same about democracy since I heard Bush 11 say of the world-wide protests that he didn't care what the people thought. He was "the decider".  Whaaat?

 Sad memories. And new sad memories being created everyday over there and at home.

How can we stay connected to the earth when we walk on cement?

I don't walk barefoot in Granada, Nicaragua. In fact I have only seen one person do so. In fact, I don't sit in the grass or get my feet in the dirt ever. One case of chiggers in Guatemala was enough for me to learn my lesson. But when I am at the beach, walking on sand, I am closer to nature. When I am working in the garden, I am more grounded. When I am picking figs off of Greeley's tree, I am happy and automatically think about abundance.

I am making a case for tree hugging. Touching nature gives back. Touching nature feeds us. When I think about all the feet that only walk on macadam or cement it makes me sad. How do people stay connected? I don't mean face book connected. I mean that feeling you get when you see a fantastic moon, or pick a perfect flower, or jump in the lake, or watch a hummingbird come into the garden, or feel the sand under your feet.

Go out and look for the buds under the snow. Go hug a mighty oak. Go for a walk in the moonlight. That is my advice for the day. As with many great truths, this sounds so trite, so simple, yet is is powerful mojo.

Keep Your Friends Close, Keep Your Enemies Closer

I don't think  have any enemies. I hope not. But I have been thinking that it is very smart to get to know people who don't think the same way I do. I tend to put a lot of thought into my opinions. I read a very lot, (most everything except science fiction, romance, and fantasy) but I have tended to hang out with people who think along the same lines as I do. This season in Nicaragua I have gotten to know all these Texans, you see, and with the exception of Tucker, they have been seriously Bible Belt, Tea Party conservatives. It has been interesting.

It's been a bit like seeing a common object under a microscope for the first time. This experience has broadened me. I am not talking about hanging out with insane pigs like Rush Limbaugh or Glen Beck. I am talking about ordinary nice folks who might as well be talking in a language I don't know.

Years ago, in Guatemala, I met a very cool high school boy who had been home schooled his whole education. He was bright and fun. But during the conversation I realized he had missed some things by being home schooled. He had never stood in line. This might sound dumb, but there is something about not having to wait your turn that might give a kid a bit of self importance that might not be matched in the big world. The other thing was that he never had his opinions challenged. He read materials that supported his way of thinking, always. He never had that teacher who was a liberal if he was conservative or visa versa and therefore never had to read stuff he didn't agree with. As an adult, I have been doing the same thing.

What this winter has taught me is that it is much more important to discover our common humanity and work from that than to intellectually try to be right about everything. I am not saying I don't speak my truth. I do. I am saying that I have found that if you start with what you can agree upon, and a bit of respect for the other person's humanity, half the battle is already won. It is possible I am learning about diplomacy.

Everyone we meet in this life is karmically important.

We just got an email from George who stayed here in the guest house where I am living (for one more week). George is a larger than life Texan who is 87 years old. He was in Nica in the Peace Corps in the 70's. He has been back to visit his friends and host family many times. This was clearly his last trip here. He came using a walker and oxygen and knowing that he has a terminal illness. His politics and world view are exactly opposite of mine. He loves guns and capital punishment and all that Texas stuff.

He came here for several reasons. He wanted to make sure his friends were in good shape and offered help to those who needed it. He came to complete his circle and say goodbye to a precious part of his life. His visit was very tiring for us. He had a great need to talk and sort things out with whom ever would listen to him. Sonja and I put in many hours. One day we hired a driver and went to a hill town overlooking a volcanic lake. We had a wonderful sit. Some random nuns came by and sat with George and prayed for him. Tears ran down his cheeks. We had a great lunch in Santa Katerina. It was very hard work for George, with his bad breathing and his difficulties walking. We had a kind of communion of endings and letting go.

This big loud Texan shared a sort of spiritual completion with us strangers. Today he sent an email saying his breathing had degenerated and he was leaving his ranch and moving into a home. I was not surprised. I won't be at all surprised if he dies very soon. He told us he had completed his life in Texas and he certainly completed his business here.

Right before my father died, he asked his various kids if he had left anything undone. When we said, "no", he let go. George didn't have to ask, he had a list. He crossed off the last unfinished task, was generous with his spirit and his last energy. I haven't figured out what our karmic connection was, but it was an honor to spend time with him and one day soon, I will get the insight into why I was part of his completion process.

The Evil Queen

"Something tells me Isabella's Anarchist Grandma Julie would enjoy knowing that I told her (1) I'm not scared of the Evil Queen, (2)  I don't care what the Evil Queen thinks and (3) I will tell the Evil Queen this next time I see her. "

 

I got this email today from the wonderful friend who fell in love with my grand daughter as soon as she met her. Bella was only weeks or months old. They have had a powerful good friendship for 5 years. I had a bunch of reactions to this, aside from gratitude that Bella feels the courage of a strong woman when she faces her fears.

The first is a haunting distaste for Walt Disney who mutilated some of the best fairy tales in the world. I remember my oldest daughter having 'bad dreams' after seeing Snow White. I went and read the Grimm's version and the insidious change Disney had made was leaving a slight ambiguity at the end about whether or not the Evil Queen was dead or maybe had just been chased away for the time being. In the original story, you are not left with the feeling that she might pop out from behind a tree on a dark night. I can see how a cliff hanger might leave room for sequels and be a profitable notion, but I do feel badly for the children who suffer fear from these movies. Creating that fear is a bit evil in itself.

 

I am trying to remember my first fears and I am not coming up with any very early memories. I do have a memory of a slightly paralyzing fear moment. My mother had told us that ammonia was poison and we weren't to touch the bottle. Then, one day, she washed the woodwork around my door with that very poison. I was deathly afraid to walk through the door. I pretty much figured that Mom was trying to get rid of us, and if I left the room it would be all over.  She finally missed me and came to see what was going on. She walked right through the doorway. When she did not die instantly, I let go of my fear. I do remember that.

 

Last summer in Oregon I took walks with a friend who had a one year old daughter. This child was so petrified of dogs, that when she heard a dog barking far away, she would go stiff with panic. One day we went to a little local fair and I bought her a ride around the grass on a pony. We were pretty sure she wouldn't go near the pony, but why not try? She got on the pony and went around the ring waving one arm high in the air. When she got off there was a German Shepherd  dog right near her. She waved at the dog and said, "Hi dog."

What happened there? I was elated at seeing her have so big a change so fast. I hope Bella takes courage from her friend and I hope she never meets the Evil Witch in real life. (I certainly have met one or two in my days.) I guess the more interesting question is how we get rid of fears rather than how we collect them.

Where Has the Great American Dream Gone?

I guess after the Depression and  WW11 there really was a pretty universal dream in the US. People dreamed of peace and prosperity. For a great many people this meant a job, a house, a car, and kids. There were a few niggling problems such as apartheid, no ERA, them there things. Lots of people flooded the colleges on the GI Bill. A lot of people got their dream.

But the dream that came before that and continued for many was that this was a country where, if you worked hard and played by the rules, you could make it and even make it big.

I have been asking young people what their dream is and getting vague answers.  Some have specific answers, "I want to be an actress." "I am going to be a teacher." But I often hear very vague mutterings, with lots of uncertainty. "I might want to be in a city, but maybe I'd be OK in a small town." "I want to get a job, but no one is hiring." I get a tremendous response of uncertainty. And a lot of fear of articulating their dream. Maybe it feels like it would be bad luck to say what they want. Maybe there is the good old fear of failure. But all the self-help books say you have to know and know specifically what you want -  visualize it - before you can realize it.

Other books have said that if you say you 'want' something, your subconscious hears the word "want' with the definition of "lack' and continues to provide that lack. I think it is a little unsettling that my subconscious would use a different vocabulary from my conscious mind. Is that weird?

I was wondering whether all the media to which we are exposed might let us see too much of the underside of life. When you watch movies about bored people in the suburbs or watch 100 replays of Columbine High School, it might get harder to dream of heaven being a suburban home. When you see sports heroes like Lance Armstrong spill his story about doping to Oprah, it gets harder to want his piece of the pie.

But, truly, dear reader, maybe this is all projection. (nod to Dr. Freud). I don't know what I want next in my life. I have many choices and some limitations. (I don't think at age 69 I will be climbing Everest and I'm afraid of heights) I like my little comforts. I need to have people around as well as a certain degree of quiet time. I love the country and the ocean, and towns and cities. I don't know yet what I will choose as a career. Mutter. Mutter.

This can't Be About Feminism

I have all my experiences about feminism and my thoughts and what I read and ways in which I reap the benefits of the movement and I can get annoyed at how slow things move in some segments of our society, but stuff like what is happening to Zerlina Maxwell can not be lumped into a feminist rubric, in my opinion. It is about hate crime. Why is there so much of an uptick in hate these days? Why is so much of it arriving in our houses through Fox news? Why are any Christians behind it? What is happening in the world?

When a brave, smart, beautiful woman says a simple truth, why does she get death threats? This issue is about everyone or anyone who dares to speak their truth. Why do these Second Amendment people hate Free Speech so much? I am frightened for this trend in our country.
 
Dear Julie,
"We need to tell men to stop raping women."
That is what Zerlina Maxwell--the latest target of right-wing media--is being visciously attacked for saying since she appeared on Fox News last week.¹
We all know the kind of sexist treatment major female political leaders, like Hillary Clinton, face.² And last year we saw just how vitriolic the right-wing media could be when Rush Limbaugh repeatedly attacked Sandra Fluke for speaking out on birth control.³
Zerlina Maxwell, their latest target, is a rape survivor, a progressive, an African-American writer and a frequent guest on political talk shows. But most importantly to them: She had the nerve to suggest that rape is the responsibility of rapists, not their targets. That instead of arming women with assault rifles to protect them from rape, we should as a society teach men not to rape and address the culture that makes rape so pervasive in our country.⁴ And the response has been ugly.
This is hardly a controversial position to take--there are already men's groups like Ring the Bell and Men Can Stop Rape who are working to change rape culture.⁵ But ever since that appearance Maxwell has faced heavy harassment. People have posted on the internet that she should be raped and murdered, called her horrible, racist epithets and more.⁶
But she's not backing down. And she deserves our thanks. All too often women are shouted down and harassed for speaking out--a cynical attempt to silence them. And if we want women to keep speaking out and standing up, we need to thank them and let them know that there are tens of thousands of us who have their backs. Can you sign the petition and leave a note for Zerlina, thanking her for her bravery? We will send her every last signature and comment we gather this week.
Add your thanks to Zerlina Maxwell right away.
The things that have been said about Zerlina Maxwell since her comment on Fox News last week are shocking and disgusting. Her common-sense approach to addressing our country's pervasive problem with sexual assault was called "bizarre" by the Blaze⁷, was completely mischaracterized by the Washington Times⁸, and she's been attacked with disguising insults on blog after blog.
But some of the worst attacks have come on social media, where her Facebook and Twitter accounts have been inundated with hundreds of people have calling for her to be raped, killed, and more. The attacks are blatantly racist and horribly misogynist. One person tweeted to her "I hope you get raped and your throat slit. May be then you understand why white women have to be armed. DIE B----!" Another said on Facebook "Ur what's wrong with America. I hope you get raped. And killed. By an out of control black man."⁹
Zerlina was right: the extreme right-wing message that was promoted on Fox News, in Congressional hearings, and elsewhere recently--that women should arm themselves with assault rifles to protect themselves from potential attackers--puts the responsibility for preventing violence against women on women, not on the perpetrator.¹⁰ We should be teaching men not to rape, and that a rapist is the only person who is responsible for the crime they commit. And studies show she is right: anti-rape campaigns that have targeted men have shown great results in reducing sexual assault.¹¹
It was courageous of Zerlina to speak out on Fox News, and it's important that we don't let these racist, misogynist attacks be the loudest response to her message. We need women like her to keep speaking up--and when they do, we need to support them. Can you sign the petition and leave a note to thank her for speaking out? We'll send your message of support to her this week.

going to the beach, back in a few days.......

Send your questions. I am bound to have an opinion or a story or some info, or know someone who knows something. Really, I am the perfect girlfriend. I listen and then butt in with more from Julie.

Feminism bites you in the ass if you are resentful.

You can have the consciousness that there must be more equality in the world between the sexes, or less racism, or more tolerance for differences. That can and should be a very good thing. But if this consciousness makes you resentful of every sight or perceived slight, it is going to eat away at you and make you unhappy.

Resentment, like guilt, like envy, seems to make people less than their potential. It is a waste of time. It can often be an excuse for inaction. "I'll never get a fair  shake no matter how hard I try." That attitude is guaranteed to make you feel badly and to lessen your power to make change.

It has to be extremely difficult to keep up the faith in your worth and your abilities when the feedback you get from the world is telling you the opposite. And I am speaking from a highly privileged position. My parents were not prejudiced. They believed in me. "Oh, you'll come out fine, you always do." my mother would say to me. I could have taken it that she was blowing me off or belittling my issue du jour. But she wasn't. She was telling me what she 'knew'.

In his teachings on Buddhism, Lama Marut says that you can and should forgive, but not forget. Forgetting would be stupid. Buddhism also teaches that you can rewrite your past, and it can be a very healthy thing to do. An example of this would be if you had a lousy marriage, and you are now free of it, and you end up thinking about the bad old days, or worse, talking about the bad old days, and you start the litany of all the crap that went on. That might be one way to remember your history. It might feel good for a second to air all the injustices, put the blame where it belongs, feel the power of your resentments. But actually, you are bringing the pain of the past into the present moment and breathing into it new life.

Another way would be to look at your past memories and rest, not in the nightmare, but in the present. The past experiences were all for the good because they contributed to forming the person I am today. They may have given me more compassion for others in difficult situations, relationships. They may have made me better able to understand the suffering of others. But, if you get resentful, you sink. I know this.

Try both ways of looking at some past painful experience and experience your feelings. It is a righteous exercise. Look at your feminism with eyes that see how far we have come and you will see that we have always been here, exactly where we are at the present moment and whatever is holding us back is already over unless you are giving it power by reliving it.

So, Hugo Chavez is dead.

The people of Nicaragua felt a tremor of fear yesterday as the announcement came of the Chavez death. He was a very good friend to Nicaragua and the people here know it.With his country's oil money and his determination to befriend countries which had been oppressed by the USA, a lot of aid and support came here. Energy, health care, education and solidarity were all helped.

The fear and sadness come from losing a friend and ally on whom they could count. Hopefully, the next president will share some of the ability Chavez had for spreading the wealth. He was a showman, an actor, a romantic, a friend of the poor and probably a bit reckless. People here are crossing themselves and hoping for the best.

The Nicaraguans know what the price can be for wanting to control their own destiny. They paid it during the Contra war. The new flurry of economic improvement has brought new hopes to this poor country. My prayers are here and my gratitude is to Chavez for bringing a tiny bit of hope to Nicaraguita.

What was it about Bob Marley?

I awoke humming By the Rivers of Babylon and remembering Bob Marley made me smile. I think that Bob, like Martin Luther King, like Gandhi, like Jesus Christ, was an outstanding revolutionary whom history has tried to make into a warm fuzzy nice guy. Why do we do this? Somehow we are blessed with great visionaries incarnating and somehow they are recognized in their lives as something very special, very out of the ordinary, and they inspire real followers. But, after they die, as in Bob's case, or are assassinated, in the case of many, time passes and they somehow get turned into white bread. Nice, sweet people who tried to be nice.

If you listen to Bob, to Christ, to King, they were hoping to turn over the established order of things and inspire revolution. I am a pacifist, and yet I am still inspired by Che. Bob was inspired by Che and the Black Panthers and others who aren't remembered for being good background music in tropical bars. I guess one of the things that unites these souls was their ability to speak Truth to Power. Another thing is that they were the voice of those who didn't have a voice. They seemed to have an innate understanding of the dignity of all people.

Sometimes, I find myself thinking snobbish thoughts. Sometimes I have a reverse snobbery. I want to get it right in this lifetime. I want to see that we are all perfect in God's eyes. I want to get my ego out of my way and my little miseries out of my way and radiate hope to the hopeless. I need to use my time and seek refuge in the Dalai Lama and bring his love and compassion to all whom I encounter. I wish I could sing.

There is this little couple here in Granada who sing at your table in cafes and she really can't sing that well. But when she sings "Nicaragua, Nicaragua", I cry every time. I cry because through her voice comes a vision of the hopes and dreams and yearnings that made the Sandanista Revolution possible here. For me, that is.

Parsing down what I am trying to get at, I hear the word 'hope'. Maybe that is what I feel when I wake up humming By the Rivers of Babylon.

Stop Now! Ya Basta! Enough Already!

My oldest daughter is a Virgo. She is task oriented. She can't relax until everything is in its place. She finishes her lists.  It is a wonder that she was born to me. She teaches school, is a single parent, and has a big house. She also has the challenge of living in rainy Portland, Oregon.

The other week she was feeling overwhelmed and getting what we used to call "The Febuaries."  I was sad for her because she doesn't have the time to get to some warm sunny island in the sun. (The best cure for "cabin fever.") She called me that night and sounded great. I asked her what she had done to cheer up. It seems that she had given herself permission to just walk out of the house and take a walk. She does this all the time, but on this walk she had gone slowly, not worried about getting in the usual amount of exercise. She had stopped and looked at all the nature she often walks by. She had noticed that there were buds on many of the plants. Then she started thinking about the buds and looking more deeply at them.

This simple act of slowing down and smelling the roses, so to speak, gave her a new lease on life. She is a terrific gardener, but this whole experience was different. The act of talking time out, of forgetting her agenda seems to have allowed the plants to heal her, to give her their new spring energy, kind of a sneak preview.

Towards the end of February in New England, the sap starts to run. The Maple trees, often old giants, start to come out of the deep freeze and get their juices flowing. The branches on the Weeping Willow get a pink glow as their sap flows. I always found the work of gathering sap and making syrup one of the most hopeful activities of the year. Spring would triumph over winter! And no drink on earth ever tasted so good to me as the first sap we brought home the first day of the season.

In the olden days, right up through my childhood, people ate certain wild plants and drank certain teas to get their blood flowing after winter. My grandmother had us eat the first dandelion greens after winter. There are many old cures to get the blood freshened and the human sap rising. Here in the tropics, I haven't found the equivalent, but I must say that the coming of the avocado, lime and mango season feels pretty good.

But I am very grateful to my daughter for telling me her story. I have since taken time from my busy days (joke) to give nature a chance to give back to me. I saw my good luck yellow butterfly as soon as I started seeing. I saw many hummingbirds in the banana trees that I usually just walk past. I felt the richness of the earth. I felt better. I don't always need a book in my face to be alive. I need to hang out in the life that is going on around me.

This is definitely a tree hugger moment. I have had true inspirations with my arms hugging mighty oaks or tall white pines. They are so generous, they will share with us their strength. But, so it seems, will the smallest bud.

Hitting Bottom. Drawing Strength

Where does strength come from when you have none? Looking back on my sickness at Christmas, I think it was a combination of two things. My friend Gretchen was a strong steady companion to me. No fussing, she just stood by me and went with me when I had lost the energy to do anything for myself. The other thing was this presence of the Holy Mother to whom I prayed, sometimes half heartedly, sometimes fervently. There were two pictures that came to me again and again. The first was some Renaissance picture of the Annunciation and the other was Michaelangelo's Pieta.

Lama Marut says that there is a level of desperation which leads us to decide to seek refuge in a Master. I sought refuge in Mary. Right now I am seeking refuge in the Dalai Lama. In my mind's eye, I get as close as I can to him and then picture myself shrinking and going inside his body. It sounds plenty weird, but each time I remember to do it, I feel a moment of compete calm and once in a while a flurry of bliss. When I go to Mary, I feel a sense of surrender to forces much larger than I am.

I am struggling with the inability to help someone I love. I am struggling with the fact that her karma is her karma. I am struggling with the fact that I have mixed up my karma with hers to an unhealthy degree. She is not free and I am not free. Mother Mary felt for her son, but knew he had a destiny that he came to fulfill. I can know this, but it is one of my life's works to feel it, to believe it over and over.

If I believe in karma, which I do, then I have to remember that what looks like a life of horrible suffering might actually be a burning off of old bad karma for that person. This does not mean that I can't and won't do everything I can to alleviate the suffering of another. But it heavily implies that I can only do that with a pure heart. If I rail against it, then I am another suffering schmuck added to the pile.

Acceptance, surrender, gratitude, forgiveness. Hard stuff to keep up with. I know my job is to keep on keeping on with a lot of help from my friends, both visible and invisible.