The predicament
What a blessing to be alive, we say
knowing this life is so unlikely, so near impossible
that it is a blessing to be born at all,
to come into this world wailing,
covered in blood.
(excerpt from Danusha Laméris’ poem ‘To Bless’)
The Dutch-Barbadian-Californian poet Danusha Laméris captures the predicament we find ourselves in: by some miracle we arrive, it is improbable, and might not have happened, but here we find ourselves, and it is not easy. We ‘come in to this world wailing/covered in blood’ and things continue, more or less, as they’ve started: with suffering and the pain of existing.
Perhaps this is sounding bleak. If it is, then can we get hold of some sense of pity for the humans? Life can be a tough gig. Loss is built in to the offering: we can’t escape sorrow, disappointment or grief. We are made out of fabric which ages and eventually ceases to work.
If all this weren’t hard enough, we tend not to adopt this position of empathy when it comes to considering our own lot.
In the Pali Suttas, the texts believed to be records of the Buddha’s teachings, this habit we have of rubbing salt into our own wound is illustrated with the parable of ‘The Arrow’. Here’s my own retelling.
There were once two young women who were both chefs. One set aside time each day for meditation. We’ll call her the noble disciple. The other sister didn’t meditate. We’ll call her the ordinary unlearned chef. One day both women had a tricky day in the kitchen. Both chefs had feedback from a customer in their respective restaurants that the food they’d prepared was inedible. Both chefs felt a pang of physical pain when the waiter returned the offending plate of food to the kitchen. The ordinary unlearned chef’s day was spoiled; she ruminated, judged, felt angry with the customer and angry with herself for feeling angry. She wished she was elsewhere, anywhere, but perhaps especially on holiday. She ate chocolate. The ordinary unlearned chef felt two pains: the physical pain and the mental anguish. She was like a person who has been struck by an arrow, only to be struck by a second one. The noble disciple’s day was unspoiled by the feedback. She felt physical pain and tended to it. The sensation of the physical pain within her throbbed and then dissolved. She felt a tender kindness towards herself for experiencing pain. Her attention moved to the next task of her day.
It’s not unusual to just not feel very much empathy towards ourselves. This is, though, a relationship we can work at. We can work at seeing ourselves as worthy of compassion, and we can work at relating to ourselves as we would relate towards a loved friend. We can work at getting in touch with a compassion for ourselves in our human predicament.
Oenone Crossley-Holland
February 2026