Compassion feels terrible

Compassion feels terrible. 

Compassion doesn't feel warm and soft to me.

It feels like a need.

How would you feel if a loved one was drowning in front of you?

A sibling. A romantic partner. A child. A pet.

About to die.

Do you feel warm and soft?

No. You feel a need to help.

It’s not pleasant.

It’s desperate.

You might feel a rush of relief when you see there’s a lifesaver nearby, and you quickly throw it to them.

But how do you feel when you see that the loved can’t reach the lifesaver?

Do you dive into the waters to try to save them? Or will that just mean the both of you will perish?

And wait, what the fuck? It’s not just one loved one in the raging river. There’s another one!

And another one!

. . . and another one?!

Where the fuck are they coming from? Why are all of your loved ones drowning?

Should you go upstream to figure out where they’re coming from and what’s happening to prevent more? But then all of the loved ones you can see will die right away.

This is awful.

You decide to go upstream - and discover that other loved ones are pushing more loved ones into the stream.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you politely say to the loved ones.

“What do you mean,” they say. “We aren’t doing anything” says this woman while she throws your cat into the river.

How do you feel when they’re drowning and you don’t know what to do to help?

That's what compassion feels like to me. 

It kinda sucks, to be honest. 

And yet, if somebody figured out a "cure" to compassion and tried to give me a pill to "fix" it, I'd fight them tooth and nail. 

Because not all good things in the world feel good. 

Compassion is like so many other sources of meaning. If you care about something, it means it can make you suffer. 

And I choose to care.