Meditation in Compassion - 1. A Meditation in Compassion

He was in blackness. He felt pain in a slow, pulsing rhythm. He felt his very dry throat scratch with his breath. He despaired that he could not see and then realized his eyes were not open. He could hear voices over the throbbing in his head. He could not understand them and did not know why. He tried to move his body and it felt like a heavy, wet blanket. He felt that someone had come close and touched his shoulder. He snapped his eyes open.

Even through the haze, he could tell it was dusk. The last time he remembered was dawn.

A stranger was couching down and looking at him. He tried to speak and was signaled him to keep quiet. The stranger put down his weapon, pulled out water, put it to his lips and drank. The stranger looked at him and offered the water. Again, he tried to speak and again the stranger gestured not to. How peculiar the stranger appeared. He concentrated and finally saw his own shaky hand rising to the canteen. The sleeve of his uniform was torn, showing skin. The stranger helped him grasp the water and bring it to his own lips. The pain from his throat seemed to make his vision clear.

It was just dusk; the moon would not rise for many hours. The stranger smiled and pulled out what looked like a handkerchief from his uniform pocket, wiped his chin and gave it to him.

The stranger’s uniform was different than his.
The stranger was the enemy.

He dropped the water and the stranger looked confused. He began to shake.

Over the throbbing in his head, he could hear the voices again. He could not understand them and now he knew why. The stranger looked back over his shoulder and called out. The stranger snatched up his weapon and looked directly at him with pain and sadness in his eyes. The stranger aimed. The voices called. The stranger shouted again over his shoulder. With an unrecognizable expression, the stranger raised his weapon.

He was in blackness again. There was only the pain in a slow, pulsing rhythm, then nothing.

He felt movement bring him back to consciousness. He was being carried and not very gently. He was too tired to act out any type of protest or even to cry out in pain. He opened his eyes and found himself over someone’s shoulder. He closed his eyes again. He stopped moving and was laid down. He heard through his dulled ears: a door, then an engine. He was moving. He summoned his energy and opened his eyes. He was in a moving vehicle and the moon was high in the sky. The movements made him dizzy. He let his eyes close and surrendered to the darkness.

He felt warmth on his eyelids. He felt dizzy. He could hear a ticking over the throbbing in his head. He tried to move his body but it felt too heavy. He was comfortable, other than the throbbing. He heard the clock continue to tick, and then something else. He heard soft breathing in the rhythm of sleep. He wondered where he was. He slowly opened his eyes.

He was lying on a couch. He could see sunlight. He heard the clock behind his head. He heard the breathing again. He slowly rolled his head to the side. He was blinded by the lightning through his brain. After waiting for his vision to clear, he saw someone in the shadows sitting in a chair with head down asleep. He felt safe at the moment. He closed his eyes and tried to remember anything that might make sense. He was groggy and not much came to him. He saw the stranger's face in his mind just before he drifted off into the depths of sleep.

He did not know how it came to him but it did: he remembered his name.

He opened his eyes. Lamplight, not sunlight. The clock still kept time. Now he could make out more. A door was past his feet on the far wall. A book case was under the window and a low table was next to him. On the table lay a soldier’s handkerchief. The handkerchief. He rolled on his side to see it closer. It was the stranger's, he knew it. He reached over and pulled it closer.

All of a sudden, the door opened. He sat up quickly, too quickly. He dropped the handkerchief to the floor and fell onto it between the couch and the table. The pain in his head returned immediately. He was too consumed with the pain to feel embarrassed about soiling himself on the floor. He felt that he was being gently rolled on to his side. He went into blackness again.

The smell woke him. It was bleach or a powerful cleanser. The same smell as the barracks or a locker room. The scent was comforting because it was familiar. Once again the sun shown through the high, narrow window near the ceiling.

How long had he been here? There was no movement in the room, only the clock. The furniture, although strange in appearance, had texture and color and patterns.

He turned his head slowly following the ticking to its source. His arm hurt when he leaned on it. A grandfather clock stood sentinel, thinking clearly.

He lay still, realizing he was naked under the blankets. The door opened wide and the stranger stood in the doorway. He yelled in fright. The stranger spoke calmly. He tried to lash out with his arms. The stranger rushed in and held him firm. He tried to think, to plan. The stranger continued to talk low and calm. He began to be more still.

He looked at the stranger. The stranger let him go and stood up.

The stranger helped him cover his nakedness with a towel as he lifted off the blankets. Gently the stranger lifted him into a sitting position. The stranger put his feet on the floor. The tile was warm. The stranger pulled him up because he was weak and continued to hold the towel in place then help wrap it around him fully as he stood. He was dizzy. He wanted to sit down. The stranger held him up. Slowly, the stranger walked him to the door.

The next room was full of hanging clothes, including his own uniform. To his side was another door. The stranger turned him and pushed it open. There was a toilet and a sink. The stranger walked him in and turned him around. The stranger unwrapped the towel and spoke. The stranger held the towel in front while he sat on the toilet. He could see the stranger deliberately not watching. After a few minutes, he was able to relieve himself while the stranger continued to look away. The stranger lifted him back up to stand and handed him the towel to hold for himself while the stranger cleaned him with wet cloths. He was dizzy. His knees felt weak. He slumped against the stranger, closed his eyes and dropped the towel. He could feel the stranger shift his weight and struggle to carry him back to the couch. He fell asleep before he could thank the stranger.

The door opened slowly. He lay still. The stranger looked in and saw he was awake. The stranger smiled and disappeared for a moment. The door opened wider and the stranger came in with a tray. Slowly and deliberately, the stranger set the tray on the coffee table. Another smell came to him. Food. He began to salivate. He did not know how long it had been since he had eaten. The stranger dipped a spoon into the soup and gently brought it to his lips. It was warm and familiar. He drank each spoonful greedily. When he was done, the stranger took a cloth from the tray and wiped his lips and his chest. The stranger smiled and said something that he could not understand. He wanted to ask where he was and what was going on. The stranger picked up the tray and went out the door leaving it open. He wanted to get up and run but he was too tired to fight the urge to sleep.

* * *

It was dawn. The enemy was across the pasture. His people were hidden in the forest’s edge. He was under a tree with four men. The ground was wet with last night's rain. The enemy would approach. He would fight.

He would kill or be killed. He and the four men crouched low and kept aim. The enemy appeared.

The men waited in silence. The enemy continued to advance. A man sobbed. A man looked angry. A man gritted his teeth. A man was calm. He sweat.

One shot. He did not know where it had come from. Many shots. He knew they came from everywhere. The enemy hit the ground. The trees splintered. The ground rippled. The man who was calm was dead.

There was a crash above him. There was an explosion in the enemy's position. More shots. More hits. More noise.

Screams. Explosions. A thundering roar above him. Darkness.

* * *

He screamed. He could not see. It was dark. His eyes were open and he could not see. He was terrified and screamed again. The door burst open and light spilled into the room. The stranger advanced on him quick like death.

He tried to fight. The stranger was too fast and pinned his arms down at his sides. He tried to kick and was caught in the blankets. The stranger held firm and began to speak. He thrashed.

The stranger continued to talk. He finally stopped struggling and began to listen. He was not being hurt. The stranger's voice was restrained and measured. His head hurt and his stomach was knotted. He was dizzy and lay still. The stranger still held firm and still spoke, but calmer.

He saw the room. He heard the clock. He felt the stranger's hands. There was no threat. He turned his head and vomited.

The stranger stopped speaking and slowly let one arm go. He did not move. The stranger slowly let the other arm go and waited. He still did not move. The stranger spoke again. He tried to wipe his face with his hand. The stranger took a cloth and gave it to him to use. He did. The stranger pulled off his own shirt and put it on the mess on the floor. He handed the cloth back to the stranger who dropped it on the shirt on the floor on the mess. The stranger spoke again calmly and nodded. He nodded back. The stranger got up and went out.

His head hurt. His throat burned. The stranger came back with a bottle and rags. He tried to speak and the stranger looked at him. He tried to clear his throat but the stranger still could not understand. The stranger finished cleaning , picked everything up and left.

His throat was still sore. The window was dark with night. The clock ticked on. The stranger came back with a glass and bowl. The stranger poured water in his own mouth, rinsed and spit into the bowl. He understood. The stranger helped him with the glass and held the bowl ready. He rinsed and spit multiple times. He felt better, cleaner. The stranger left the room with the bowl.

The light went out. He heard the stranger come in and speak. He tried to speak back, to thank him. He heard the stranger sit in the chair. He relaxed and closed his eyes.

He fell asleep and did not dream any more that night.

The sun was low when he opened his eyes. His head hurt but felt more clear. The room was still. The only other sound apart from the ever ticking clock was the soft breathing of the stranger in the chair. He looked at the stranger.

The stranger slept uncomfortably sprawled back into the chair, a pillow propping his neck. He smelled the fresh scent of cleaning fluids. He had to relieve himself. He looked at the stranger and slowly pulled back the blankets. He was still naked. A fresh towel was on the table. He slowly sat up. His head swooned but felt better when he planted his feet on the floor. The effort not to fall was tremendous. The stranger slept disheveled and undisturbed. The first step unbalanced him and he thought he would topple. He brought the other forward and stood still. He could hear the light breath, now behind him from the chair. A few more steps and time for his head to clear. A few more steps and he was able to lean on the door-frame. The solid wood felt good on the side of his face. It was cool and did not move.

The bathroom door was open. He slid around to the second door jam. A few more steps and he was in front of the toilet. He put the towel in the sink and braced himself with both hands on the walls.

He closed his eyes to prepare to turn around. He turned very slowly so as not to upset his brain. He opened his eyes again and was able to sit. He leaned his head on the wall and relieved himself.

Past the door of the bathroom, past the clothes lines, past his uniform was the bottom of a staircase. Escape.

The thought excited him. He stood up again using the walls for support. He put the towel around his waist and flushed. The sound roared.

Just moments later the stranger darted around the corner to face him standing in front of the toilet. Concern in the stranger's face gave way to a smile. The stranger nodded happily and gestured approval. He smiled in spite of himself. The stranger gestured for him to return to the couch. He nodded and stepped forward to the sink and washed his hands. When he was done, the stranger offered his arm and steadily guided him back to the couch.

The stranger smiled again and talked smoothly and cheerfully. He nodded in response to the meaningless talk. The stranger made a motion of a utensil being brought to his mouth and chewing. He nodded in the hopes that he was consenting to eat. The stranger gestured for him to lie back and then left the room. He leaned back and was comforted when his head was back on the pillow.

The smell of food made him open his eyes again. The stranger had a bowl of the same soup waiting. The stranger smiled and offered him the spoon. He took it and the stranger brought the bowl in front of him. He tried to hold the spoon still as he tried to dip it. His arm trembled. The stranger placed his hand on his to keep it steady. With help, he was able to guide it to his lips. It tasted better than before. He scooped more. Finally, the stranger let him try on his own and he was able to continue by himself. The stranger sat close by. The metallic flavor in his mouth was erased by the taste of food. The bowl was empty, the stranger pointed at it and gestured as if he was scooping more. He nodded believing that he could eat ten times that amount. The stranger left with the bowl. He fell asleep before the second bowl arrived.

Light poured through the high window. He was awake and alive. He wanted more food. His body was healing but his head was still dizzy. The ticking was comforting to his ears. The blankets were warm around his body. If it were not for his head he would have told the stranger he was comfortable. If, the stranger were there. He was alone.

He saw the stairs before. He should try. With stealth, he turned and stood. The floor was warm under his bare feet. He slowly walked through the door. The room was quiet and shadowed. Towels and clothes hung on lines but his uniform was no longer there. He looked again and chose a long shirt before making his way to the stairs. He rested. No sounds came down from above. One step at a time.

He was at the top in front of the door. His head swirled. He listened and breathed. No sound. He touched the knob and turned it slowly. It stopped. It was locked. He tried again. It did not move. Maybe he could force it. He leaned against the wall. He was out of breath. He looked at the stairs. He looked at the door. He slowly made his way down.

He was sitting comfortably on the couch when he heard the footsteps. The stranger appeared in the door with a tray. He was happy to see solid food. He smiled and thanked the stranger. The stranger only smiled back and set the tray down. There were two empty plates. The stranger handed him one and took up the other. He watched as the stranger began to assemble food for himself. The stranger watched him gather his own. A thought occurred to him.

He looked directly at the stranger to gain his complete attention. The stranger stared. He pointed to himself and said his name. The stranger nodded. He pointed to himself and said his name again. The stranger began to repeat and point at him. He nodded and smiled. The stranger repeated his name to him again. He smiled and then pointed at the stranger. The stranger pointed at himself and spoke.

The stranger again pointed at himself and said the name. He tried and failed to repeat it correctly. The stranger laughed. The stranger repeated again and he tried again. The stranger smiled. He began to eat. The stranger looked happy.

After the meal he was still wide awake. When the stranger left, he went to the bookshelf. He could not understand a word. Nothing made sense. Knowing only the stranger's name was not enough. He picked up a newspaper and tried to match the words with pictures. The messages were unclear, but the meanings seemed frightening to him. He tried to grasp what was being said. Flags, meetings, leaders, fire, bodies, cheering.

The stranger came in and stood at the door looking sad. He spoke to stranger in an unsettled tone. The stranger replied calmly, but his voice wavered. They turned another page. There were more pictures and more hands being shook. People were smiling and people were angry. The stranger pulled a book off the shelf and opened it on the coffee table. The book had a map. Through many gestures and map pointing and patience it became clear. His buddies were gone, he was alone.

The grandfather clock seemed to go silent, for just a moment, before continuing to count time again.

He tried to speak, to ask. The stranger sat silent and looked unhappy. He pointed to his home country on the map. The stranger sighed and nodded. Again, he pointed to himself and pointed fiercely to his home country. The stranger gestured for him to sit quiet again then made more gestures, many meaning movement, driving, flying. The stranger pointed to the clock, pretended to turn the hands and held up two fingers. The stranger repeated the gestures with the clock and pointed at his home country.

He held up two fingers to the stranger and smiled. The stranger smiled but his eyes looked sad. The stranger stood up and said his name and pointed at the couch. He put his head down on the pillow. The stranger smiled and left the room. He slept and his head filled with dreams of home.

He woke to darkness and the clock. He lay a few moments listening to the rhythm. It was unwavering and calm. He let it fill his senses. It was the only sound in the dark. It was the only thing perceptible to his ears. He longed to touch it, to see its face. It watched him heal, and stayed by his side. It did not judge his thoughts about the stranger before he knew the stranger meant no harm.

There was movement outside the door. Someone was trying to be quiet. He heard the door open slowly and the rustle of fabric on the tile floor. The chair was moved. He heard a sound, a long zipper pulled in the dark. There was more fabric movement and a long zipper drawn again. There was no other sound except the clock. He waited, he did not know for how long. In the darkness he heard an additional rhythmic sound. The sound of another's breathing in sleep.

He woke to sunlight in the window again. His head felt good. He was surprised. He had to go to the bathroom and forgot himself when he stood up. He fell back on the couch and cursed himself for being too cocky. He waited for his head to clear. It took longer than it should have. He stood again, slowly and with restraint. This time his head obeyed. He turned to the door and saw the stranger looking at him. He smiled. The stranger shook his head in disapproval but smiled all the same. He passed the stranger and went into the bathroom.

When he came back, food was ready on the table. They ate together and looked at a new large book full of pictures. This was not news, this was nature. Giraffes walking tall and proud. This he could understand. He was engrossed as was the stranger. He had read once that the giraffe would kill a lion before giving up its young. This gentle and beautiful creature would die defending its family.

His glass slipped and his drink ran down his shirt, wetting his skin. He grabbed a towel and began to attend to it. The stranger went and returned with another long shirt. His chest was sticky. He looked at the stranger standing over him waiting. He spoke and began to make like he was washing his hands. The stranger nodded. He then mimed washing his body. The stranger nodded. He repeated the gestures. The stranger understood and spoke. He spoke back and continued washing without water or soap. The stranger nodded and made for him to stop and went out of the room with a frown.

The stranger returned and beckoned him to stand. The stranger was whispering when they got to the bottom of the stairs. The door at the top was open. The stranger pointed and signed to be silent and whispered again. The stranger pointed up and they began their ascent. He was dizzy but was managing. The stranger was right behind him. Near the top he tottered and the stranger caught him. The stranger helped him the rest of the way.

The room was bright, even with all the blinds closed. It was a living area of sorts. The look was strange to him but it was obvious that his host liked many of the same comforts that he did at home, even if the appearance was different.

They made their way to a room with a shower. The stranger leaned in and turned on the water. While the stranger stood back, he took off the shirt and climbed in. The water was excruciatingly wonderful. He closed his eyes and luxuriated in the feel on his skin. His head swooned. He ducked under the water. He let his hair soak beneath the stream. He pulled his head back and shook the excess out of his face. The dizziness returned and he slipped to the side. The stranger caught him before he could fall. He opened his eyes and the stranger looked startled and very wet. He steadied himself against the wall. The stranger slowly his hands go. The stranger looked down, reddened and turned away. The stranger had helped him once again, even at the cost of intimate touch.

He lay on the couch feeling clean in a complete set of the stranger's ill-fitting clothes. A glass of water was on the table along with the handkerchief. He was happy. He slept peacefully as if he were a child in his parent's house again.

* * *

He was in running water, happy and loved. Animals were scattered out among the brush and in the line of brown trees. He walked across to the largest. The tree was tall and straight, reflecting the sun like a golden face. He grazed pulling at the low limbs. Someday he would grow tall and be able to eat from the greenest branches at the crown. Looking over the plain he could see bluish gray hippos still in the stream. Zebra, gazelle, and other hoofed beasts crossed under the branches past him. He was not afraid for he was not by himself.

Some animals began to run. They ran past, leaving him alone. The tall, olive grasses were thrashing. There was a roar and a great lion appeared before him. He was afraid. The lion bared its teeth and roared again. He backed away; he could not out run this monster; he was going to die. There was a crash beside him and a single large giraffe galloped between him and the lion. The lion crouched ready to spring. The giraffe kicked out and struck at the lion. It growled and lunged at him. The giraffe kicked at the lion. The lion paced. The giraffe stood over him. He watched the lion continue to circle from underneath in the cool shadows.

There was noise all around. The wildebeest were coming. They advanced with their horns. The lion roared and backed to the edge of the tall grass. The wildebeest charged and disappeared after the lion. The wind blew across the grasses. He walked out from under the large giraffe to the tree. The giraffe stood tall and watched. The tree lowered some of its greenest branches to him and he was nourished. The wildebeest quietly returned and he followed them back to the water's edge. The giraffe galloped into the empty plain and became only a silhouette on the face of the sun.

* * *

The clock gently reminded him where he was in the darkness. He was safe. He knew he would be home soon. The stranger would not fail him. He heard breathing again. He knew the stranger was asleep only a few feet from him. He lay awake for a time listening to the silence, the clock and the stranger's breath. He reached for the glass of water and pulled it towards him knocking the handkerchief to the floor. After a few sips he returned the glass to the table and reached down to feel for the handkerchief. The floor was cold and hard. He could hear the stranger sleeping. He picked the cloth up and it was like ice. It was comforting knowing the stranger was there, but it also made him feel guilty. The stranger lay on the cold floor.

He slowly turned and put his feet on the tile. It was freezing and that made his purpose more clear. He pulled one of his blankets off the couch and crept slowly to the stranger guided by the sound of sleep. He eased the blanket over the stranger and waited. The stranger continued to sleep undisturbed, but somehow, quieter. He got back under his remaining blanket.

The day was going too slowly. He was impatient. The stranger was happy in the morning and chatted cheerfully like and old friend. He wished he could understand and could only pretend he did. The stranger knew and did not seem to mind. After lunch they tried to play the only universally known game in the room, chess. His focus was not clear and he repeatedly struggled. When he lost, the stranger beamed with pride. A victory over a worthy foe. He laughed to himself. The stranger laughed with him.

He tried to ask when they were going to go. After a few tries, he got his point across. The stranger pointed out a time on the clock. He nodded. The stranger became more quiet and so did he. The clock continued to count down the time. He spoke to the stranger in normal, serious speech, hoping the stranger could understand and accept his thanks. The stranger was quiet and waited and nodded. He wanted to make sure the stranger understood.

He paused for emphasis and locked eyes with the stranger. The stranger looked back with his full attention, ready to receive. He said the stranger's name and extended his hand over the table and the handkerchief. The stranger reached and took his hand and said his name. They shook hands as a sign of their bond. The grandfather clock continued watch.

It was dark when the stranger came in holding the stranger's own clothes. The stranger mimed the change he was supposed to make. He stood without any assistance or wobble. He took off the long shirt and the stranger gave him the new one to put on. The stranger had no expression by the time he handed over the socks and shoes. The stranger went to the door and cleared his throat. He looked at the stranger who gestured to the bathroom. He nodded his head. The stranger nodded back and left up the stairs.

He finished dressing and went to the bathroom. After, when he was washing his hands, he noticed his stubble was thicker and more rugged. The stranger’s clothes felt warm. He went back into the room and looked around. He would never see this place again. All was the same as when he had arrived, the couch, the window, the table, chair, bookshelf, and his steady partner, the grandfather clock. It had given him comfort and he was thankful. He went to it and looked closely. There was no sign of weakness. It ticked away and would never stop. Whatever happened in the world, this soldier of time marched forward and did not look back. He promised his mechanical friend that he would do the same.

On the table was the handkerchief. He touched it and felt the softness. It would be another friend he would miss. He set it down.

The vehicle they were in was comfortable. As the stranger drove, he would speak and point at a map to show how far they had gone. Once they stopped near a field of trees. The stranger got out and disappeared behind one. When he came back, the stranger pointed to another tree and pointed to him. He nodded and got out and also relieved himself.

When he got back into the vehicle, he spoke to the stranger. The stranger replied but did not look at him. Although the stranger could not understand, he longed to be understood. He touched the stranger's shoulder and the stranger turned. He looked directly into the stranger's eyes and spoke low and soft, thanking the stranger again and again. The stranger nodded and forced a smile. The stranger spoke low and soft in reply. They were silent for a moment before continuing to travel as before.

At one point the stranger looked scared and turned to him frantically pointing for him to get down and stay low. He did and nothing happened.

They stopped. The stranger got out and beckoned him to follow. They walked around a low hill to where a car was parked. Two men in uniforms got out and approached. He was ready to turn and run. The stranger caught his arm and was comforting. The stranger spoke to him slowly and calmly. The stranger released his arm and went to the men and spoke with them. The stranger and the men pointed at him and the car and the horizon. When the stranger came back, the stranger shook his arm to get his complete attention. The stranger spoke again slowly. He shook his head.

The stranger reached into his coat and pulled out the handkerchief and tried to hand it to him. He just stared at it. The stranger shoved it into his hand and walked to the men. He looked at the handkerchief. He was going to speak, to ask, but this was something secret. He folded, then slid it into his pocket.

They all came to him at once. The stranger pointed at the men and mimed driving and flying. He understood. The stranger extended his hand and looked at him. He looked back and squeezed the stranger's hand and thanked him again. The stranger's face was as hard as stone. The men spoke and began to walk away, one beckoned him to follow. He did.

From the window in the car he could see the stranger. He smiled and waved. The stranger did not smile and only raised his hand. The car started and began slowly. He was excited and ready to go. He looked out the windshield and saw the first rays of the sun. It was dawn. He looked out the back window. The stranger was holding his head in his hands.

* * *

He was standing on the side of a hill with others deciding on how to change the city below. They were happy to help these people in spite of their own leaders, in spite of themselves. They planned a perfect road of white dividing the city into two equal parts. An arc of fire rushed above and he was thrown to bare ground where the white road should have been. He stood under a barren tree with the stranger. They watched the sky return to blue and walked out from the black trees to the shore of a dark lake. There was a dock in the distance with people waving to him. He waved back as the stranger tried to hold his arm down.

He freed himself and ascended into the sky above the water, rising easily. The stranger was still on the shore and called to him. The stranger tried to rise but fell to the ground, his hands in the water. He waved to the stranger, the stranger frantically called back. He turned and flew across the waves, rushing toward home. Land appeared below. It was lush and green and healthy. He deftly landed below a large grassy hill. The sun was rising over the top. He ran toward the sun, warmth and light. He was home and everything was good. He would never leave again.

Something was wrong. He did not know what. People's faces were familiar. He knew them all, but not everyone he knew was here. They all should have been.

From the top of the hill, he could see across the large dark lake, and, on the distant shore, a lone man weeping.