Life is so much more, and so much more complicated than we can begin to imagine when we’re young. Whatever we’re certain of at twenty will be replaced by some surprises at thirty and downright questioning at forty. At fifty the pieces of the puzzle begin to come back together; the landscape is rich with experience and wisdom is growing.
Nearing sixty, I am aware that my old, crabby opinions are, in most cases, judgments of others. Judging means my vision is tunnel-like and me-centric. It means I’m not walking in others’ shoes, not understanding the trials of their lives, not loving them in the way all-forgiving Love asks of us.
Understanding—compassion–has something to do with effort. If we were stranded in an elevator for a few hours with any person we dislike and if we began to share our stories, we’d exit the elevator with a new awareness and a different connection.
The question is, “Do we have to get stuck in an elevator to gain this understanding?”