Curious Compassion

  In her book Welcoming the Unwelcome, Pema Chodron remarks how:

You can't be friendly and judgmental at the same time. If you have a good friend, you probably know all about her strangeness. You probably have some ideas about how she would be happier if she went about some things a little differently. But if you do call her out on her issues, you don't do it in a harsh, critical way. You don't do it out of thinking there's something inherently wrong with her. You do it out of your care .(p.122)

As I was reading this passage, I had the thought that the way we view our emotions is often a reflection of the way others viewed them, especially those we encountered when young. If our elders reacted to our emotions with unease or anxiety, we pick up that certain emotions are not welcome or had best be left alone completely. It's hard to find true curiosity there, because the attitude is more like someone wading through a dense swamp who only wants to get to the other shore. Curiosity may be too messy--and, just as the Pandora's box story suggests, curiosity sometimes opens doors that cannot be closed again. This makes curiosity dangerous and even potentially transformative, all in not necessarily a good way.

When I think of "curious compassion", I reflect on how a good doctor will try to examine the patient holistically: not just prescribing a pill or "writing off" the patient, but genuinely wanting to know the ailment both from the doctor's and the patient's views. I want to know all the dimensions of suffering, in other words, not just the parts that I am familiar with or can use to cure an ailment. I want to take the time, but also with the faith that something will come out of the exploration, even if there are no clear answers.

If I were to phenomenologically trace the compassionate elements of curiosity, it would consist of the following:

a) allowing something to emerge without the trap of words or classifications. Not labelling the state but genuinely welcoming it for what it is. Not hurrying to give it a name,

b) inquiring into its various dimensions. Like huatou, I am genuinely asking the thing itself, not just asking for the sake of being clever or coming up with my own answers. I wait for the situation to provide answers rather than rushing in with my own answers

c) patience with what is as an evolving and unfolding process. I don't give into the despair of thinking anything is ever fixed in one meaning

d) wanting to stay with whatever arises. I am not trying to fix or get rid of it.

Much of this is similar to meditative practice, but I think the two most important aspects of curiosity are a spirit of play--open ended, exploratory and process based---and a spirit of "just observe". When I observe without a fixed agenda (including even the tricky agenda of "I must be curious, or else"), then my mind softens and naturally curiosity arises.