Harry was an oyster who lived an ordinary oyster life. He bobbed around the floor of the sea, pushed here and there by its currents, happily sucking phytoplankton and algae from the water as it passed over his gills.
One day, a tiny chunk of something hard and rough made it inside his shell. Caught there, it was quite painful, given the softness of his interior. If he had been a human, this irritating fleck might have been something like a cruel word hurled at him, or a wound caused by an accident or even by an unexpected change in circumstances. But for Harry, it was a rock-hard particle and he didn’t like it at all. It hurt.
He focused his attention on it, fully feeling the pain. It was awful, with a sharp, burning quality. and all he wanted was for it to stop. While he focusing on it, he happened to think that this must happen to other oysters, too. He was not alone in his suffering. Many, perhaps thousands, of other oysters were feeling this exact pain.
That thought made his oyster-heart fill with compassion that such was the fate of so many of his kind. He breathed in the pain for all the oysters that were afflicted, and when he breathed out again, his breath carried his compassion to all the others, and his wishes for them for relief from their suffering.
In and out he breathed, taking in the shared pain of all the oysters, and breathing out compassion for them. And as he did this, the pain he felt became more bearable somehow.
Several minutes (which is a long time in an oyster’s life) passed before he noticed that his oyster-body had responded to his compassion by wrapping the irritating chunk inside him in a smooth, lustrous coat. He returned to his breathing, just in case his compassion was easing the pain of his fellow sufferers as well.
Weeks later, Harry shared the story of his experience with an oyster-friend of his. “That explains it!” his friend exclaimed. It turned out that he had ingested a painful particle as well. He had struggled against it mightily, but it only dug more deeply into his soft oyster flesh. Then one day, something in the water seemed to whisper to him, “You are not alone in this. Be kind to yourself and patient with this irritation.” It had seemed a great mystery to him, but now he realized he was receiving his friend Harry’s love.
“Knowing I wasn’t alone helped so much,” he told Harry. “Somehow it made it all easier to bear. And I felt so much love for all the other oysters who were suffering that it made me more patient with my own pain.”
Harry and his friend carried their little rocks inside them until the day they died. And while they were never the same, their compassion coated their wounds with layers and layers of beautiful light. Their suffering ceased, and they lived out their days in peace.
Much later, a young boy wandered along the shore and came across the shell that had held Harry’s body. Out of curiosity, he pried it open and, to his great surprise and wonder, discovered it held a luminous pearl. “Dad!” he cried. “Look what I found!” And his father burst into tears at the sight, for the treasure brought a solution to his own brand of pain.
We are never alone in our suffering. And our compassion for those who suffer as well has more power than we will ever know.
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