empathy – Alexandra Langstaff

Giving human personalities or characteristics to inanimate objects is common. Additionally anthropomorphizing often involves naming items that don’t really care if they have a name or not.

Things we spend a good deal of time with, like my stuffed animals, Bear, Monkey, George, and Snowy, deserve respect and kindness. Humans do as well but it can be more difficult.

My friend, Betty, urged her bike, “You can do it Old Yeller”, when tackling hills. Two old boyfriends did the same with Big Pig (a truck) and GRRRrrr (a Holden sedan.)

Recently I bought a truck. Its color is described as Eruption Green, which is sort of odd. I’m stumped at the reference. Peter said it’s actually a British Racing Green. That sounds better, and when describing it, people know what I’m talking about.

The salesman asked “What are you going to name your truck… Kermit?” What an odd suggestion. Everyone knows that Kermit the Frog’s hue is like the inside of a kiwi.

“I don’t name my vehicles.” I almost sniffed.

I was acting a little haughty but I get that way in car dealerships. It’s a “DON’T MESS WITH ME” persona.

”Yeah, yeah, yeah, sign here lady”, the man eventually says.

Empathy, like anthropomorphism, requires thinking beyond ourselves. It’s being considerate and caring whether or not the item or person is breathing, purring, wagging, acting, trading, or snuggling exactly the way we want them to.

It can be hard when we are unsure, trepidatious, fearful, nervous or apprehensive. It takes practice.

I’m going to continue working on it in my Blazing Emerald Curly Kale colored truck, named Car. Ideally I won’t be so disdainful the next time I visit a dealership.

Mighty oaks from little acorns grow. Rumour has it the origins of this proverb come from England. Big things can come from small beginnings. Everyone knows that.

Well not everyone. I read a guest blogger’s post on a VIY (very important yogi’s) website. The author described the massive amount of acorns she noticed while walking amongst the maple trees. Maybe it was a typo.

Nope.

The fact that she brought it up again at the end of the essay made it clear that she wasn’t aware that maple trees don’t drop acorns.

”This can’t be right”, I said to myself and Georgia.

“Where was the editor? How could someone let this misinformation slip past?”

I got so worked up that I felt sick. I think I made the dog sick too with my pacing and ranting.

When I met with my dear mental health guide a few days later, yes days, I was still in a tizzy.

”Are you upset at the content or method of delivery?”, she asked.

”Both”, I barked.

”This woman had the opportunity to reach thousands of people but no one checked to see if she was going to sound like an idiot doing so.”

”You sound judgmental,” she said without judgment.

With a slow and steady breath I managed to respond with ”Well, yes, I guess I am” rather than retort with “Am not”.

I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to cry or feel shame so I chose neither. (That’s a first.)

So this is what being judgmental is all about.

All this time I thought it was when you read a book by its cover.

I didn’t feel judgmental but I did feel

-jealous because the author was on this massive platform,

-admiration because she went through the process to do so,

-irritation at the lack of attention to nature facts,

-protective of this person who had no editing support.

Talk about a can of mixed nuts and emotions. No wonder I felt sick.

Feed a cold, starve a fever.

Feed judgment, starve empathy.

Today, my other mental health advisor, Bliss said, ”Einstein said ’Those who have the privilege to know have the duty to act’”.

Good point. Should I have sent a comment or correction?

Maybe.

Then again who am I, Euell Gibbons?

Namaste- wild hickory nuts taste like hay.

PS – All spelling and grammatical errors are due to poor editing and me pretending to be a Brit.

Acorns

Tag: empathy

I can call you Betty, you can call me Car.

Acorns Keep Fallin’ On My Head