What makes me tick?

Growing up the way I did, I developed a deep allergy to harshness-cruelty, what some might simply call meanness. It’s not just about pain; it’s a whole spectrum of suffering, subtle and overt, that I became exquisitely sensitive to. The sharp word, the dismissive glance, the cold shoulder-each one leaves its trace. Over time, these experiences didn’t just shape me; they attuned me. I learned to recognize suffering not only in myself, but in others, even when it was hidden beneath the surface.

This sensitivity is not a weakness. In the language of Zen, it is a gate-a Dharma gate-opening into the heart of compassion. Buddhism, at its core, is not about carrying forward the burdens of our past, nor about perpetuating cycles of harm. Instead, it invites us to meet suffering with clear eyes and a soft heart, to interrupt the transmission of cruelty with the medicine of kindness.

When I sit on the cushion, I notice the echoes of harshness within my own mind: the inner critic, the old stories, the inherited scripts. But practice teaches me to greet these, too, with gentleness. Each breath is an opportunity to choose differently-to respond rather than react, to heal rather than harm.

What makes me tick, then, is not just an aversion to meanness, but a vow: to transform the legacy of suffering into a path of healing. To be, as best I can, a clear peak-a place where the empty flow of the universe meets the world with clarity, warmth, and unwavering compassion. In this way, the allergy becomes an offering. The wound becomes the wellspring of vow.

And so, Buddhism isn’t about carrying forward the harshness of the past. It’s about recognizing it, bowing to it, and letting it dissolve in the great ocean of practice, so that we can meet each being-ourselves included-with the kindness they deserve.

--Dignity and Grace