Compassion Wifi

Here to save your network from congested data channels.

Sometimes life is a very heavy burden to haul.

Too often, in the behemoth that is New York, it’s as if we had to do it all on our own. Riding the M line on a Monday morning, I stood face to face with desperation. Someone who hauled a life so heavy he was on the edge of breaking under the pressure. On the edge of snapping, where all it takes is a mass of indifference to finally crumble under the weight. But at the last second, someone tapped into the compassion wifi — free for all and vitally humane.

The M line has operated at all times since 1914.

Weekday rush hour, midday, and early evening service, the 108-year-old veteran keeps creaking on old rails. Just like New York City, (a.k.a concrete jungle where dreams are made) the M line never sleeps.

I was pressed for time heading for my 9 am class when the M line suddenly halted on Delancey and Essex. Maybe at M line’s age, it gets more difficult to make the rounds without a break in between. As we waited for the train to start up again, a boy anxiously made his way through the half-open doors.

“Hi everyone, sorry to interrupt your day,” he announced himself as if anticipating the jabs of indifference.

“Today is my birthday, I’m turning sixteen on the third anniversary of my parent's death.”

He made his way through the crowded train as people carefully avoided eye contact. They gave their best enactment of “the art of not giving a fuck” featuring the latest iPhone.

The tension mounted as people’s silence turned indifference into exasperation — some tapped their feet and exchanged uncomfortable glances.

“ I am suicidal and I don’t know what I will do to myself.” Defeated, he cornered himself next to the subway door, “I’ll take food, money, anything” he said finally.

Even if the discourse twisted reality, the plea for help was real.

Despair was written all over his tired eyes, it came out of his pours and made its way down his damp forehead. This boy had not met compassion in days and was starved for contact.

As I looked on at this mad theatre of humanity, a stranger’s voice cut through the silence.

“What do you really need?” it asked.

“Anything.” The boy repeated.

“Would you take a prayer?” the stranger asked.

I couldn’t see the man directly, since a couple in their late twenties blocked my view. Still, I watched enthralled as the kid’s expression changed, the despair melting away like bone marrow. His posture; tense and guarded at first, shifted to a softer demeanor. His eyes; hardened by experience, softened to give way to innocence.

“I was also at the edge of depression.” He started “I almost lost it, but then I met someone who saw the value in me. I see the value in you, and there is a reason for your life. You have to believe that you are enough to get yourself out of this.”

The man handed the boy a zip lock bag as the M train reluctantly made its way to the next stop.

“I don’t have any money with me, but please take my lunch.” He finally said.

The kid, soothed after the interaction, made his way onto the next subway car.

Poverty here is different than anything I’ve ever seen because it reeks of indifference.

The young man, like many others, has slipped through the cracks in the fibers of society. In a city of more than 8.3 million people, nearly one in every 106 New Yorkers is homeless. 2,400 people sleep on the street or in the subway every night in the richest city in the world.

There are many stories that we tell ourselves to justify inaction. “It’s not my responsibility”, “They did something to deserve it” or “I simply don’t have the time to care”, are a few of those stories.

The illusion of abundance and individualism in New York makes people complacent. In the words of Cornell West;

“We are too well adjusted to injustice and too well adapted to indifference”.

After witnessing the interaction, I scooted past the couple staring at their phones and came to face the man. He wore a beige baseball cap and a striped tee. In his early thirties, he had smooth brown skin and kind eyes.

“I was watching what you did just now, and I wanted to give you this”. I said fumbling through my backpack and handing over my lunch. “It’s rare to come across compassion in this city”.

He seemed confused and took a moment to acknowledge me, and thanked me for my gesture;

“People are so caught up in themselves, they don’t realize that all it takes to help someone is to recognize the value in them. No food or money could have given that kid what he really needed right now, which was hope.”

“My name is Markus by the way, it’s such a pleasure to meet you.” He said handing me back my lunch. “I won’t actually be needing this since I always pack a lot of food with me! But you really made my day.”

Tapping into the Compassion Wifi

Once you identify compassion and respond to it, you’re in. There is no password. This is an open network available to all who have the patience to respond to calls for help, and repay kindness with kindness.

Likeness attracts likeness.

When we are able to hold ourselves with compassion, it’s easier to identify it in others and respond to it. We can all take a moment of our days to speak love into the hearts of people who need it most. The best thing about it is that you will never come out of it depleted. No amount of love given is ever lost. It is only multiplied and reciprocated.

We have a duty to ask ourselves how to use our time with intention instead of mangling it. How to hold ourselves with enough gentleness to keep the humane alive in this world.

A podcast I listened to this morning mentioned a quote by the 17th-century French philosopher Blaise Pascale;

“In difficult times carry something beautiful in your heart.”

In practice, I suppose this means to train our capacity to reflect beauty back to those who have forgotten that it exists in them too.

That it is them, their inheritance, and their nature. It is also their right to tap into that same wavelength that brings us closer together — by means of shared time and shared space.