After a day invested so intently in humankind, balancing on a fine rope stretched between love and fear, when it is time for a night of restful sleep, buried memories coil out from a room without doors and windows. You wish you were, for an undocumented moment, the revengeful, grunting animal you could have been in the parallel animal world where no one need to pretend to have human values. You let your heart break for the ones who have wronged you and soiled your trust—for reducing you to a human being, crushed underneath an emotion thicker, stronger, and deeper than love and fear.
When the rock is lifted and the mind is free, you realize that the only choice you can make is to be compassionate. Paradoxically, the choice is more relevant when it is nearly impossible for you to be compassionate. When the fatigue of compassion thins your capacity to be kind, you find that loving those whom you don’t like, who have wounded you, is your superpower.
You keep the compassion alive.