by Anda Vitols

Weaponizing Empathy into a Cloak of Shame

Since as early as I can remember, I was brain-washed to feel shame of the empathy I had, and to instead strive for goals that had no meaning for me. I obediently tried my best, to avoid punishment, and to try to uncloak the shame put onto me by caregivers and community elders.
Playtime activities were another cult. So called “fun” activities consisted of mutilating insects, destroying things, and pretending to kill each other playing Cops and Robbers, Cowboys and Indians. I didn’t get it, but joined in anyways, as I tried to teach myself to enjoy these activities. It never worked - and I felt shame for not “getting it”.

Shame. That cloak of shame. Wherever there is light, it is a shadow dragging along the ground. There was no way to get rid of it. I was brainwashed.

Now, I still am uncloaking that shame.
It is so stuck, because it was attached to me in the first years of life.
It is so stuck because empathy was and still is weaponized in society.

Now, however, the world is dividing, and many, including myself, are realizing that society got it ass-backwards. Realizing that the power of love is what really matters, more and more of us are slowly able to dismantle that cloak-of shame, by being able to recognize how our empathy was weaponized against us.

For myself, once I start to really see it, I cannot unsee it, and that “cloak of shame” has no use and simply disintegrates. Now, I feel like I'm in a new place, even though I am in familiar places. Now, I look at all those familiar places; those familiar sights and sounds and songs, and listen to them - again - for the first time as my true empathic self. It is a delight! I see so much more, yet it all fits together easily, because I am seeing things in natural order.

by Thisal Yakansawala Yesterday, I witnessed a moment that took my breath away. I heard a soft thump at the window and looked out to see a cedar waxwing lying motionless on the deck, its mate standing beside it. The fallen bird was still, lifeless, while its partner stayed close, refusing to leave. For a moment, I turned away. When I looked again, I saw something that made my heart stop: the living bird had laid down beside its partner, pressing its body close so their heads touched. It closed its eyes and joined the fallen bird in the stillness, as if choosing to let go of life rather than live alone.

It’s a story that made me realize how deeply the bonds of life run — how even in the animal world, connection matters more than survival. In a society that teaches us to keep moving, to keep striving and competing, we often forget how essential that connection is. We measure success by what we accumulate, not by how deeply we love.

But here, in this quiet moment between two small birds, was a truth that we, in our concrete jungles and busy lives, so easily forget: that love, in the end, is more important than anything else. And when it is gone, something inside us longs to go with it.

Perhaps that’s what’s missing in our world — a willingness to let love guide us, to hold each other close even when the world says we must keep going. Nature doesn’t measure life in possessions or accolades. It measures it in the quiet, unwavering bonds we share.

If we could learn from these birds—if we could remember what really matters — maybe we could start to heal the disconnection that so many of us feel, and find our way back to what is real.