To Bear Reality, We Must Cultivate Joy, Connection, Compassion

I’m traveling a lot this month, so please enjoy this repost from 11/24/08.

T.S. Eliot once wrote, “Humankind cannot bear much reality.” In today’s world, threatened as it is by global climate change, human overpopulation, massive extinctions, fresh water depletion, toxic waste, and replete with escalating worldwide slavery, brutal institutionalized animal cruelty, human starvation and many more problems, it’s no wonder we can’t bear much reality.

In our graduate programs at the Institute for Humane Education, we know students struggle with the content of their courses (on education, human rights, environmental preservation, animal protection, and cultural issues such as consumerism, social psychology, media, and globalization). Although every course has books and articles with practical and wise solutions to our problems, each also exposes our students to the challenging realities of our time. After all, we cannot solve our entrenched problems and transform unhealthy systems if we don’t know about and understand them.

Many of our students struggle with the dark content of some of the books and films in the program because, indeed, it is hard to bear that much reality. But there is another reality that our program explores: that of our human capacity to experience wonder, joy, connection, compassion, and understanding. Our students are required to spend time in a natural setting, participate in activities that reawaken their reverence, meet and connect with people from other cultures, listening to their stories and building relationships. Each student also does a practicum, not only to put their knowledge and training into practice, but also to experience the joy that comes in doing the work of humane education.

Yes, we cannot bear much painful reality, and so we must cultivate the joyful reality that is our inheritance so that we can hold the joy and pain together and rely upon our experience of profound connection and empathy to face and transform those systems which harm. If we expect to change the world through doomsday stories, we will find that many turn away, unable to bear that much reality. But if we inspire people to fall in love with this gorgeous planet, revel in their senses and ability to feel awe, turn their apathy into compassion, and hear the stories of the heroes among us, then we will discover that our reality is huge: full of light, dark, and everything in between, and we can bear it all in our hearts and minds in order to create a better world.

~ Zoe

Zoe Weil, President, Institute for Humane Education
Author of Most Good, Least Harm, Above All, Be Kind, and The Power and Promise of Humane Education
My TEDxConejo talk: “Solutionaries”
My TEDxDirigo talk: “The World Becomes What You Teach
My TEDxYouth@BFS “Educating for Freedom”

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Finding Joy in My Dog Elsie

I’ve shared my home with seven dogs in my life, and none have had quite as much “personality” as Elsie, who joined our family one year ago. When my husband, Edwin, brought Elsie home from the veterinary clinic where he works, I agreed to a trial weekend. We already had three dogs, one of whom was old and dying from cancer, and the last thing our household needed was a 6-month-old, non-housebroken dog. Besides, Edwin wasn’t supposed to have been at work that day, as we had been planning a camping trip that weekend. But a hurricane dashed those plans, and Edwin forgot something at work and so went into the clinic on a Saturday morning just as Elsie, who’d come in as a stray 10 days earlier, was about to be picked up by a local shelter.

When Elsie arrived in our house she walked in fairly confidently, despite the fact that the house was already full of dogs, two of whom were much bigger than she. In one swift move, she plopped down on the floor, as if signaling her intention to stay. And stay she has, taking her place in our family and my heart as the funniest, most engaging, most loving dog I’ve ever known. Elsie makes eye contact like nobody’s business, but not aggressively. When Elsie looks at you it’s as if she’s trying to pour out her overflowing, enthusiastic heart. I have never felt so adored in all my life as I do by Elsie.

This summer has been a joy for Elsie. If she has tired out our 7-year-old dog, Ruby, and if none of us are willing to play stick, Elsie will simply play stick by herself. She has collected a couple of very large sticks (more like branches), and she keeps them in a specific place by the kiwi arbor. When she wants to play with them she picks one up and runs around with it, and then throws it up in the air and catches it, and then chews it for awhile, leaving it by the arbor for next time. And when she gets hot from such activity, she trots down to the pond and goes for a swim.

Elsie is so attentive that as soon as I awake in the morning, even before I open my eyes, she jumps on the bed (or, if she’s already on the bed, slinks up it), to greet me. She’s learned not to paw me or lick me on my face (I don’t like either of these behaviors), but to give a teeny lick on my hand and rest her head on my body to say good morning. And then I pet her, and we are both so happy.

It’s hard to describe the joy that Elsie brings me. The best way I have of understanding it is by observing her. She is joyous in a way I can only imagine, and lucky for me, I experience a measure of it in her presence.

Zoe Weil
Author of Most Good, Least Harm, Claude and Medea: The Hellburn Dogs, and So, You Love Animals: An Action-Packed, Fun-Filled Book to Help Kids Help Animals

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Our New Dog: Lessons in Charting the MOGO Path

My husband is a veterinarian, and the clinic where he works is where the strays in our county are brought, and where they remain for two weeks in the hopes that their families will find them. Elsie was one such dog, and when her two weeks were up, she was ready to be sent to a local shelter to await a hoped for adoption.

Through a strange mix of events that had to do with a hurricane dashing our camping plans for the weekend and my husband’s forgetting to do something at work, he happened to be at the clinic at the moment when the shelter worker had come to pick up Elsie. But Elsie had already captured his heart in the few minutes he’d interacted with her as she ran around the treatment room, and he called to ask me if I wanted another dog. I really didn ’t. We have three other dogs, one of whom has cancer. But I could tell by his voice that this was one special dog and he wanted to bring her home. I said we’d try her for the weekend.

Elsie is now part of our family, and I’m utterly smitten by her. I could go on and on about her exceptional attributes, but that’s not why you read this blog. What I want to write about is the ways in which adopting Elsie is both deeply joyful and also unsettling. And what I’m learning in the process.

I’m in love, and really all I want to do is play with Elsie. It’s as if the other dogs, as well as our cat — who’s the king of our household and to whom I am passionately attached — have faded. Imagine a photograph of our family of animals. There would be Elsie in sharp focus, and the others (Griffin, Sophie, Ruby and Sir Simon) would be blurry – as if the camera had room only to focus brightly on one. Ironically, Elsie’s black coat is actually shinier and brighter that the two other mostly-black dogs. So literally and figuratively, Elsie is outshining the household. How can this happen?

Before you write comments about how shallow I am, let me say that I adore all our animals. I’m giving them as much attention as always, albeit more intentionally rather than out of surfeit of desire. But oh, how fickle I can be falling in love with the new and exciting! And this is what has been unsettling. How can my feelings change for my other animals just because Elsie has entered our lives? What does this say about me?

I think what it says is as old as human history, and I think that my labile emotions are as common with new animal companions as they are with romantic relationships. Spouses leave their marriages after decades when they fall in love with someone new. Some of us are shocked; some are judgmental; some are deeply disturbed.

To me, what I learn from this is that my emotions are shapeshifters, and they are outside of my conscious control. My actions, however, are mine to choose. I can indulge my emotions and choose based on them. Or I can consciously show each of my animals the same love as always, knowing inside that Elsie is tugging harder at my heart, but refusing to indulge my desire to make her the supreme object of my affections.

In this way, I ground myself. I remain true to my values and commitments, even as I feel my heart flutter with adoration for Elsie. I deepen my understanding of the depth of love, for truly, what else is my passion for Elsie but a giant crush which, too, will deepen into something more enduring over time.

And so I’m in the midst of great joy and destabilizing confusion at the same time, trying to chart the MOGO path with my actions, if not my heart.

~ Zoe

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