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At my current job, I edit English translations of Chinese Buddhist texts. One thing I have found interesting is how challenging it can be to find the right word to reflect the intended meaning. For example, the Chinese character 心 (xin) means heart as well as mind. As you can imagine, this lends itself to a host of philosophical discussions. (I highly recommend Alan Watts’ teachings on the subject, particularly audiobook format if you can find it.)
The characters 慈悲 (cibei) can be translated as mercy, benevolence, or pity (according to Google translate). Our in-house translation is loving-kindness & compassion, but occasionally it is translated as pity.
In English, compassion (having compassion for) and pity (taking pity on) feel so different to me, but I can see how they share the root idea of caring about others.
When I think of compassion, it has a very positive, warm feeling. I would describe it as a bright sunny day in a glade full of blossoming pink lotus flowers. It conveys a mind of equanimity.
On the other hand, pity carries with it a kind of sadness, somber with cold-toned blues, like a concrete structure on an overcast day. Pity necessitates judgement; it requires one person to see another as being lower or having less in some way, and deeming that unfair.
Pity is not for those doing well; compassion is not given judgmentally. This is why, when we translate these particular Chinese characters, we mostly translate it as compassion, especially when it refers to that of the Buddha.
This crossed my mind yesterday when I was considering the notion that kindness can actually be cruel. There is a small, woman-owned business, the first of its kind in the county, and I really appreciate what they are trying to do. I like their theme, the owners are nice, and I like that they’ve attracted a nerdy gaming clientele over the years. I like to support them for these reasons. However, most of their menu items don’t appeal to me, and sometimes even the ones I do like don’t taste as good as similar items from other establishments nearby. I realized that I still go there almost out of a sense of pity because when I go its usually pretty dead inside.
And I do that with other things too, like people who I don’t really have anything against but who I don’t really want to hang out with, either; I don’t have the heart to abandon them when they are suffering. But is my kindness, my pity, actually doing them any favors? In the case of this business, my continued patronage could be giving them a false sense of success. I realize I, as one person, may not matter, but I can’t be the only person who feels this way, right? In terms of people, it might reinforce someone’s idea that their behavior is good, even when it is not. Wouldn’t the kinder, compassionate, thing be to let go so they might self-reflect on why?
Maybe I just overthink. Maybe none of this even matters.
It brings me to another thought: As a self-trained editor, I don’t always know the technical grammar rules to explain why the English is incorrect, so I do the best I can by describing it in my own way. Oftentimes, when I’m asked the difference between two words, and I don’t have the dictionary handy, I’ll describe how the words feel to me and what images they bring to mind. When I was considering compassion and pity above, it occurred to me that this way of relating to words is something I do often but I don’t know if I’ve ever articulated it before.
That’s all for now. Thanks for reading!
Sowing Crafty Seeds 