Radical empathy is alchemy.

You take the base metal of raw, clashing subjectivity and, through the heat of your sustained attention, attempt to transmute it into the gold of mutual recognition. It is the antidote to the illusion of separation.

It is wicked hard. It is often thankless.

It feels dangerous, because it is.

You risk being changed.

You risk seeing the legitimacy in the monster's tears, the fragility in the tyrant's rage. It complicates every easy story.