The Art of Grit

(5 Minutes)

Compassion is easy to recognize but harder to define. It’s not just kindness, and it’s not just empathy. It’s something deeper—an instinct, a quiet nudge that reminds us to care, to notice, to step in when needed. I don’t think compassion is something we have to learn or work toward. It’s already there, built into us, like an internal compass.

But these days, compassion is often treated like a goal—something we strive for, something that requires effort. There’s this idea that being compassionate means constantly giving, constantly sacrificing. Maybe that’s why I sometimes hesitate. It feels overwhelming, like one more thing to add to an already full plate.

But what if compassion isn’t about effort at all? What if it’s just about remembering what’s already there?

Compassion as an Instinct

At its core, compassion is practical. It’s not just some lofty virtue—it’s something that has always helped us survive. In early human societies, looking out for one another wasn’t optional; it was necessary. A community that didn’t take care of its sick or injured wouldn’t last long. Helping others wasn’t a burden; it was a natural part of life, just like eating or sleeping.

Yet, somewhere along the way, compassion started to seem like extra credit—something you do when you have time, rather than something woven into everyday life. We see kindness as an act of generosity rather than what it really is: a way to stay connected, a way to make life better for everyone, including ourselves.

The Dalai Lama put it simply: “Love and compassion are necessities, not luxuries. Without them, humanity cannot survive.” That last part—cannot survive—is important. Compassion isn’t a feel-good bonus. It’s foundational.

I think about this sometimes when I catch myself retreating into my own world—rushing through my day, too preoccupied to notice the small opportunities to be kind. Not because I don’t care, but because I’m distracted, moving too fast. And I wonder: When did something so natural become something I have to remind myself to do?

Small Acts, Big Impact

One of the biggest roadblocks to compassion is the idea that it has to be big to matter. We imagine life-changing acts of generosity, grand gestures of kindness. But the truth is, the most powerful forms of compassion are the quiet ones. The things we do without thinking.

Mother Teresa once said, “Not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love.” That’s really the heart of it. Compassion isn’t about fixing everything. It’s about making things a little better for the person in front of you.

It’s how you talk to your kids after a long day, when patience is running thin.

It’s the way you engage with your neighbors—not just in times of need, but in everyday moments.

It’s what you say to a friend who’s struggling, even when you don’t have a perfect solution.

It’s not about changing the world. It’s about how we move through it.

Where Do We Stand?

I try to believe I’m a compassionate person. But if I were to place myself on a spectrum of kindness, where would I actually land?

Am I quick to judge or quick to understand?

Do I give others the same patience I expect for myself?

When faced with suffering—big or small—do I turn away, or do I acknowledge it, even in some small way?

Compassion isn’t about perfection. It’s not about saying yes to everything or ignoring our own needs. It’s just about being open—open to noticing, open to responding when we can, open to the idea that even the smallest act of kindness can change someone’s day.

And in a world that can feel cold, harsh, and overwhelming, that kind of quiet compassion is more powerful than we realize.