Humility in compassion

Compassion has become a central value for me, and I try to hold to live by it in work, with myself, and my personal life…imperfectly! But practicing compassion is no small or easy thing. I’m writing today about one of the more challenging and painful parts of a compassion practice. 

Brené Brown offers this definition of compassion in her book Atlas of the Heart: “the daily practice of recognizing and accepting our shared humanity so that we treat ourselves and others with loving-kindness, and we take action in the face of suffering.” When we see a fellow human, a loved one, suffering, it’s a beautiful thing to wish them ease from suffering. We want to take action, but sometimes the ways we think to “take action” leads us to the opposite of compassion. 

As an outsider looking in, we can bring perspective and often see things that are the cause of the suffering, and it begins to feel obvious to us what that person needs to do, or should do to relieve their suffering. “If only he would go out and make a friend,” “if only they would leave that relationship,” “if only she would stop drinking,” “if only he would go to therapy,” “if only she would go to the doctor and get tested,” etc. If we hold too tightly to our perspective, too adamant that our idea to ease suffering is The Best Idea, too urgent or persistent with the person that they Should do that thing, it can shift from compassion (which leads to healthy emotional connection between people) to something else. Tension, resentment, judgment and shame, control, impatience and irritability can creep in, leading to unhealthy connection (control) or disconnection. 

Sometimes, the Idea is not wrong or bad, but maybe it is outside of the suffering person’s capacity at that moment, or not that person’s priority. In these cases, we might remember and respect that person’s autonomy. It is their life, to be lived in the way they’re going to live it. It can be tragic to witness, but not all lives are going to be lived in the most well, joyful, most connected, most fulfilling way, and certainly not every day, month, or year of a life. 

Regardless of how a life is or isn’t going to be lived, we might remember our perspective as an outsider (we don’t always know The Best Idea, because we don’t know everything about that person), and as an imperfect human. We might strive to keep our humility.

I will paraphrase Brown’s definition of humility as a balanced and accurate assessment of our contributions, including our strengths, imperfections, and limitations. (It is colloquially used to mean the same as modest, which is downplaying strengths, contributions, and assets, so they are different!) 

Humility in this context - the effect we have in another person’s life - can come in a few different forms. Our strengths might be as a compassionate observer who might see patterns or a bigger picture than the person at the center. Maybe we have special skills or knowledge that apply to that person’s situation. Our limitations are that we’re not all-knowing or future-knowing. We don’t know everything from the person’s inner world or experiences.We might not even know exactly the source of the suffering. We do not know what will happen in the future that might ease or worsen their suffering. Other limitations are that we are not fully in control of that other person or outside factors.

I have absolutely lost my humility in compassion for family members and friends. I’ve forgotten to keep their perspective in mind, and I’ve been focused on one cause of suffering and completely shocked when a courageous disclosure came that revealed a different cause of suffering. I’ve fallen into self-righteousness and judgment, anxiety, irritation, and resentment. Those places are right there for me, ready to suck me in. But in my better moments, I can claw my way back to my integrity, back to values that are important to me: respecting others’ autonomy, compassion, and acceptance. I work to lean into these vulnerabilities because I trust they will connect me most deeply to the people with whom I want to connect most deeply. During times I’m sliding back, I usually need to practice some self-compassion. This might be stepping back from being too close to the pain by taking space/time, doing something soothing for myself, noting where I feel resentment and setting some boundaries, or some self reflection on what I’m trying to control and releasing it. 

Spirituality - belief in something larger than ourselves - can be the balm against pain and powerlessness here. We might trust in the process of compassion itself to transform some of the pain into relief and connection, we might have faith in some larger system (science, nature, or religion), or release all-knowing and all-control to a more powerful force or being.    

I will sometimes do a loving-kindness meditation, and when I began the practice, I didn’t have humility. It was easy for me, when I was trying to wish health, peace, and wellness on others, for me to get very specific in my thinking. I’d think of just who needed peace and wellbeing, what parts of them needed the most healing and peace, and how they might achieve it. Then one day, I realized: nope, that ain’t it! I was turning a loving-kindness meditation into a passive aggressive, self-righteousness practice. Yeep! These days, I leave the words and thinking out of it, and do a visualization instead. Much safer for me, at this point! For me, it comes as a white light that I picture generating at my heart center and then inviting it to spread over a widening radius of people and living things.  

I want to give space to what can be a scary and painful example of this humility. Sometimes, the relief from suffering comes in death. This might be the case for someone who is chronically unwell - maybe a terminal illness, severe substance abuse, or severe and chronic mental illness. We hope and encourage relief coming from treatment and recovery, but that does not always come to pass. It’s out of our control, and it might be out of the suffering person’s control. I write about this, because it can feel taboo and shameful to acknowledge feelings of relief when a loved one dies, but it’s common and normal. Usually, the relief comes from this place of humble compassion in realizing that the person’s suffering has ended. Self-compassion, too: loved ones of long-suffering people are also in pain and drained; caretakers who are exhausted and emotionally depleted - these are ways of suffering, too, that can be relieved, even by ways we do not plan for or wish for. 

So, compassion is not for the faint of heart! By definition, when we practice compassion, we are opening our hearts to witness pain. Remembering to stay humble in our compassion then means remembering we do not have all of the knowledge and power to relieve the pain. We as the vulnerable, “pained witness” to a loved one’s suffering, deserve compassion, too.  

Reference

Brown, B. (2021). Atlas of the Heart: Mapping Meaningful Connection and the language of human experience. Random House.