Empathy isn’t just something that happens to us — a meteor shower of synapses firing across the brain — it’s also a choice we make: to pay attention, to extend ourselves.
When bad things happened to other people, I imagined them happening to me. I didn’t know if this was empathy or theft.
Empathy requires knowing that you know nothing.
I think of empathy as a set of cumulative effects, ideally - that it can be a force shaping your habits, shaping where you put your attention and then - if you're hard on yourself, in good ways - pushing you to translate that attention into action, on whatever scale.
Empathy is cloaked in our actions - as in, we might be experiencing empathy but not realize it's empathy.
I needed people to deliver my feelings back to me in a form that was legible. Which is a superlative kind of empathy to seek, or to supply: an empathy that rearticulates more clearly what it's shown.
Learning the edges or limits or sources of friction in empathy was one of the big issues for me.