Chapter 10 Second Tuesday - Talk about Self-Compassion

I went to Morrie's again next Tuesday.This will be the case for the next few weeks.I longed to see him more than usual, for I had flown seven hundred miles to see a dying man.But whenever I am with Morrie, I seem to be in an abnormal state of time, and my mood will be extraordinarily comfortable.I stopped renting a mobile phone on the way from the airport to his house.Let them wait, I said to myself, imitating Morrie. Detroit's newspaper situation is still not looking better.In fact, the whole thing was getting more and more frenzied, with pickets and backup staff violently clashing, people being arrested, beaten, lying in the street and blocking newspaper vans.

Under the circumstances, my meeting with Morrie was like a cleanser against human kindness.We talked about life, about love, about one of Morrie's favorite topics -- compassion, and why our society is so lacking in it.On my way the last few times I stopped at a market called Bread Circus--I've seen their bags of groceries at Morrie's and figured he'd like them--I Bought several bags at the deli takeaway, vegetable noodles, carrot soup and honey praline. As soon as I entered Morrie's study, I picked up the bag and yelled like I'd just robbed a bank. "foodie!"

Morrie rolled his eyes and smiled. At the same time, I am observing whether his condition is getting worse.His fingers can still use a pencil or pick up glasses, but his hands can no longer lift his chest.He spent less and less time in the kitchen and living room and more in the study, where there was a large recliner piled high with pillows.Blankets and some sponge rubber to immobilize his shrinking legs and feet.He also had a bell by his side, and when he needed to move his head or "go to the toilet" (as he called it), he would ring the bell, and Connie, Tony.Bertha or Amy--his home helper service--would come in.Ringing the bell was no easy feat, and he was frustrated when he failed to ring it.

I asked Morrie if he felt sorry for himself. "Sometimes, in the morning," he said. "That was my moment of mourning. I touched my body, moved my hands and fingers - everything that could move - and mourned what I had lost. I mourned the slow, involuntary death, but Then I stopped moaning, " So fast? "I cry when I need to. But then I think about the things that are still good in life, the people who are going to see me, the funny things I'm about to hear, and you -- if it's Tuesday words. Because we are Tuesdays." I laughed.Tuesday two. "Mitch, I don't allow myself any more self-pity. Just a little bit every morning, a few tears, and it's over."

I think of how many people wake up in the morning and spend a lot of time feeling sorry for themselves.It would be good to be a little more restrictive.Just be sad for a few minutes and get on with your day.If a terminally ill person like Morrie can do it, then... "It's only scary if you think it's scary," Morrie said. "Watching my body slowly wither is scary, but it also has a lucky side because I have time to say goodbye." He smiled and said, "Not everyone is so lucky." I examine Morrie in the wheelchair: unable to stand, unable to shower, unable to wear pants.Lucky?Did he really mean luck?

While Morrie was on the toilet, I flipped open the Boston Times next to the wheelchair.There is a report that in a small forest town, two teenage girls tortured to death a seventy-three-year-old man who befriended them, then held a party in his trailer and showed Corpse, another piece of news about a case that is about to go to trial: an actor killed a gay man because he said on TV that he liked him very much. I put down the newspaper.Morrie was pushed back -- still smiling -- and Connie was about to help him from the wheelchair to the recliner. Want me to come?I asked. No one spoke for a while, and I didn't know how I volunteered.Morrie looked at Connie and said, "Can you show him how to do it?"

"Okay," Connie said. Following her words, I leaned over and thrust my forearms under Morrie's armpits and tugged towards me like a log.Then I straightened up and lifted him up too.Normally, when you lift someone up, they'll grab you, but Morrie couldn't.He was almost dead dead.I felt his head bouncing on my shoulder, his body clinging to mine like a piece of wet dough. "Humph—" he moaned softly. I hold you, I hold you, I say. As I held him like this, I felt an indescribable emotion, I felt the seeds of death in his depleted body, before I hugged him into the couch.The moment I put my head on the pillow, it was all too clear to me that we were running out of time.

I must do something. I was in my junior year of college in 1978, when disco dancing and the Rocky movies were all the rage of the cultural fad.We had a very special social studies class at Brandeis that Maury called "group therapy."Every week we discussed the way the group members approached each other, observing their reactions to psychological behaviors such as anger, jealousy, or concern.We've all become human lab rats.Often someone shed tears at the end.I call it the "Sentimentality" class.Morrie said I should be more open about my feelings. Morrie had us do an experiment that day.We stood in two rows, front and back, with the people in the front row facing the people in the back row.Then, he let the people in the front row fall backwards, and the students in the back row supported them.Many people felt uncomfortable and reclined a few inches before tucking in.Everyone laughed in embarrassment.

Finally, there was a classmate who always wore a baggy white sweatshirt.The thin and quiet girl folded her hands in front of her chest, closed her eyes, and fell backwards straight, her posture was really like the model who fell into the pool in the Lipton black tea advertisement. At that moment, I was sure she would fall heavily to the ground.But in desperation, the classmate who was her partner grabbed her by the head and shoulders, and helped her up carelessly. "Wow!" several students shouted, some even applauded. Morrie smiled. "Look," he said to the girl, "you close your eyes and that's the difference. Sometimes you can't just believe what you see, you have to believe what you feel. If you want people to trust you, You should first feel that you can trust him too - even if you're in the dark, even if you're falling backwards."