Some days, hearing about what’s happening in the world just feels too overwhelming to let in – do you get that? On days like that, it feels like my ‘sphere of concern’ is so massive that it dwarfs my ‘sphere of influence’, as Stephen Covey would call that. And not only is that sphere of my concerns massive, but it’s heavy and fully packed with huge insurmountable issues that form a threat to the wellbeing of both me and mine now, but also the future generations in general… It’s hard to feel hopeful about what’s ahead, on days like that. And if I then think that compassion is supposed to be a ‘immeasurable’ quality, one that has the potential to go in all directions without limits, I’m painfully aware of how far I am from that being a reality for me.
But compassion could easily be seen as a noun or a feeling, something you either have or don’t have. What if I could see it as a verb, something I can practice, can get better at, something I can live? And similarly, maybe hope could be seen like that as well: not the passive fingers-crossed-that-someone-will-sort-this-out, but as something I can practice and get better at, as well as live in my everyday life.
Within the Mindfulness Association, we use a definition of compassion that has been inspired by the Dalai Lama, where compassion is ‘the sensitivity to suffering in self and other, with a deep wish to alleviate it’. These others are not just my loved ones, but also others who I share this postcode, this country, or even this world with. And maybe it’s not just human others, but other life forms as well…
However, if compassion is to become sensitive to the pain and suffering whether in myself, in others or in the world, I can quickly feel I just want to turn away, to not feel it or let it in. Especially if its big pain that’s not easily relieved, just ‘being with’ can feel utterly overwhelming and even pointless. After all, especially if it’s not within my sphere of influence, what good does it do to be sensitive to it?!
This is where the second part of the definition comes in, the deep wish to alleviate it – some form of coming into action. If I can do something that helps, it gives a sense of agency, of purpose and meaning. It may still be painful, but coming into active care helps to move out of a paralysed freeze or wanting to run away, and into connection and the heart. And it can even be nourishing and affirming too, especially when this action is together with others.
But what if the issue is too large, too painful and I just feel too small and under-resourced to make a difference, where it seems to be outside of my sphere of influence?
Maybe this is where hope, active hope comes in. Whether it’s my own deep and old familiar pain, or whether it’s a friend’s grief after a big and recent bereavement, or whether it’s something as large as the climate crisis or government decisions that impact the health and wellbeing of millions of people – any of these can stay the same as they are now, they can get worse, or they can get better. A powerful question I can ask myself at any time, is “What can I do to make the outcome I hope for, in this case alleviation of suffering, more likely rather than less likely?” And maybe I’m not alone in caring about this… so I can ask myself “What am I part of?” A single drop of water may feel small and insignificant, but together with others it can certainly form a force to be reckoned with.
Sitting with these questions might give surprising answers. Try it out for yourself with this mini practice!
In the Compassion in Action course (25-27 April) we will explore in depth how to support ourselves to come into action where we see pain and struggle, while resourcing ourselves to be able to respond effectively – so we actively contribute to a hopeful future for ourselves and others.