I feel the pain of a thousand people. Homeless in their tents. The meditating woman on the turbulent plane.
Sometimes it’s not the pain. Sometimes it’s the weary drudgery or disease or loneliness. Sometimes it’s my own.
Maybe that’s why. Avoidance. It’s hard to think of something else. Can one feel too much? Solitude is the answer, but it is also a cause.
Balance must be the key.
Sometimes it’s not even people but things. The old plumber’s truck. The scratchy speaker buzzing out country music. Hot tire smell on an asphalt highway.
Input. Sometimes it’s all too much. But sometimes it’s welcome. Sometimes it’s not enough. Attention, concern, interest, shared experience. All missing in isolation.
Where is that balance?
And worst of all…time. It just keeps going regardless of any and all of the above.
Gotta ride it. Try to balance on it and ride. Steer and follow. Decide and accept.
That is all that can be done about, with, and for it.