Compassion

It is one thing to have empathy but another thing entirely to move to compassion.

I learned the difference from my personal encounter in handling complaints in hospital and from the book co-authored by Jenn Granneman and Andre Sólo, Sensitive. The book is by and large written for readers who already know they are sensitive. I know I am.

As the story goes, a sensitive person can often get too much empathy. So much so that there is a risk of so-called giver burnout. On one hand, empathy is a gift of sensitive people who can truly take in what another person is feeling. On the other hand, internalizing too much emotions of others like a sponge is stressful.

Two weeks ago, I made a phone call to a family member of our former patient who had suffered a great deal. It took the patient's daughter almost two hours to narrate the painful journey. When she asked if I can feel her feeling, I took a deep breath and tried my best not to get overwhelmed by negative emotions. I told myself not to have too much empathy which is inward focus; I should have compassion which means outward focus. Instead of mirroring the emotional state of hers, I switched my brain activity to compassion - a response of concern, caring, or warmth. I knew I was there to help, to give care, and not to experience her emotion.

In other words, I learned to make a magic switch from passive (like a sponge soaking up pain) to active role (like a cleaning cloth to remove upholstery stain).

Record

I believe with every cell of my body that running with my daughter is one of the best activities. I am a keen runner; my daughter isn't. That means I have to wait for the month before her school sports day.

To eke out the most happiness from such once-a-year chance, we go to the sports ground for running drills. Not once. Not twice. Many times.

From my perspective, this is a perfect daddy-daughter date idea. We ran until we couldn't breathe. We laughed at the absurdity of jokes until our bellies ached.

My recent reading of parenting book on guiding teenage girls let me know how lucky I am, and how trusthworthy my daughter is. We got our seats at the spectator stand because the sports ground wasn't open for practice when we arrived today. We played a few Word Cookies online games, shared our phone message activities with each other. In moments like these, our thinking narrows, sharpens, connects. I heard about her story on digital technology use such as her strategies to keep the personal Instagram account from out-of-bounds followers.

Getting to know daughter's track record of responsible online behaviour, on looking back, is even more valuable than beating her personal record of a track event in the sports ground.

Reunion

Thousands of Trailwalkers took to MacLehose Trail in the annual Oxfam event today. I didn't.

Instead of completing the 100 kilometre trek, four of us - high school friends - hiked from Cape D'Aguilar to Dragon's Back on the other side of the city. We did our leg work while trading stories. It was a hangout that allows spending time as friends while exercising. 

As always, I needed to reschedule many things to make this holiday happen, shortly after I knew my classmate has returned from abroad. But this is definitely a wise decision to have reunion with good old friends. 

Each time we meet, we grow younger. 

Haiku

Once the frigid breezes of late autumn sweep in from the north, Japan's countless momiji (maple trees) are painted a spectrum of vibrant colours. That's the best time to go hiking.

Tōkoho region offers one of the best viewing spots during momiji season. Among them, Oirase Gorge is an attractive site, which we'd visited twenty years ago. We chose Naruko Gorge this time. We didn't aim for too many different places in our itinerary, mainly because days are getting shorter in the autumn. Better to be flexible and sensible than pledge to visit too many places before sunset - we're talking about somewhere before five.

One of our favourite places at Naruko Gorge is a quiet country path near the gorge. We were so flexible with our schedule to be walking the same path twice within the same afternoon. That's a path walked by the 17th-century "father" of haiku poetry, Matsuo Bashō. Many great haiku poets, like Bashō, were hikers with keen traveller's keen eye. A hallmark of Bashō's haiku is capturing the "just-so-ness" of each object. To retrace his footsteps, we walked once. 

And twice.

Parting

During my recent reading of Untangled by Lisa Damour, I learned about the stages of teenage girls pulling away from parents. The American Psychological Association-recognised thought leader and author gives a step-by-step analysis of teenagers’ departure from childhood.

For reasons a teenage girl can’t explain, there could have been an urge to hold us at a distance. As a father with a wry sense of humour, I know because my same old jokes suddenly turn corny and embarrassing, especially if I crack them in front of my daughter’s friends.

And not all parting with childhood is easy for parents to easily accept. Watching an adolescent daughter liberating herself is not for the fragile. I’m grateful that our going-to-be-fourteen daughter remains flexible and amicable to family get-togethers and one-on-one time with parents.

My daughter’s connection with family makes me feel as if we’ve won the lottery. That said, we don’t assume that our daughter will be enjoying the comfort of our home all the time. This week, she is travelling to Berlin on her school trip. We appreciate that she’d enjoy spending time with her classmates, and secretly wish for an occasional Locket photo or text message from abroad. While we could have hummed Paul Simon’s “Mother and Child Reunion” all week long, my wife and I chose to book a flight to Japan. That’s a pleasantly nostalgic trip for two of us, and not three.