Yesterday afternoon I was rushing to my car because I was in a hurry for a meeting. I was so wrapped up in the crazy number of things I had to do that I very nearly stepped on a butterfly that was laying on the hot pavement. Despite being late, I ran back to get some sugar water in an effort to revive him. There was no shade, but I moved him to a place that was out of the way and dribbled the water in front of him. He moved a bit, but didn't appear to be drinking.
I had done what I could then headed out to my meeting...
When I got back, I saw that the poor thing was back on the street and had been crushed... assumably run over by a car. I'm pretty sure he was a goner anyway, but it was still pretty upsetting.
Remarkably, his wings were still intact and, if you didn't look too close to see that his body had been destroyed, he was still beautiful.
I went on with my life. Maybe appreciating it just a tiny bit more.
But all I could think about was this... If I would have had the ability to put the poor thing out of his misery in a way that was quick and painless (assuming that butterflies can feel pain), would I have been able to do that? Not by stepping on him, which I could not do, I mean finding a killing jar or something. Despite the fact that my beliefs do not endorse taking a life... any life, including a bug... I think that I would. — If one of my cats were suffering, I'd certainly find a way to end their pain. Absolutely. It would kill me to do it, but I would force myself to extend that kindness.
And then my mind took this leap: Would I be able to do that for a fellow human?
And that's a different thing entirely, isn't it?
First of all, it doesn't matter if you're extending them a kindness... it's still murder. You still go to jail over that. But if it's somebody you truly care about. Somebody you love. And you know that they're suffering terribly, and you can end their suffering? Well... what is jail time compared to that?
I thought about this a lot when it came to my mom, but I was grateful to have found perspective at the time that she wasn't suffering. At least not how somebody from the outside would think of it. Her mind was gone. She didn't know and didn't remember. But I sure did. Which is to say that I wouldn't be ending her suffering, I'd be ending mine.
In which case the only life that I was entitled to take would be my own.
Alas, I am totally lacking in compassion for myself, and wouldn't extend myself that kindness.
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