The Art of Grit

(6 Minutes)

There’s a kind of happiness that doesn’t diminish when shared. In fact, it grows. It’s called mudita—the Buddhist concept of sympathetic joy, the ability to feel genuinely happy for someone else’s success, even when it has nothing to do with us.

But let’s be honest—this is not always easy.

More often than we’d like to admit, we feel a quiet pang when someone else gets the promotion, falls in love, reaches a milestone, or even just has an effortless kind of joy we wish we had. It’s not always envy, not exactly. Sometimes, it’s just a small, uncomfortable question that whispers: What about me?

It’s not that we don’t want others to be happy. We do. But somewhere along the way, many of us learned to think of happiness as a zero-sum game, as if joy were a limited resource and someone else’s gain somehow reduces our share.

Where Does This Belief Come From?

Part of it is survival instinct. Our early ancestors had to compete for food, shelter, and status within their tribes. The ones who watched resources closely, who were acutely aware of who had more and who had less, were the ones more likely to survive. This ancient wiring—the so-called “lizard brain”—still operates in the background today, even when we’re no longer competing for literal survival.

In modern life, this manifests in subtle ways. Social media is a constant reminder of what others have achieved. Workplace cultures often pit people against each other for recognition. Even in friendships, we might hesitate to share good news for fear of making someone feel left behind. And so, without meaning to, we internalize the idea that another person’s happiness somehow leaves less room for our own.

But Is Happiness Really Scarce?

There are, of course, moments when another person’s gain does directly affect us—when only one person gets the job, when a romantic interest chooses someone else, when resources are truly limited. But these moments are rare compared to the infinite instances where someone else’s joy has no bearing on our own lives at all.

If we look closely, we’ll see that happiness is not a finite resource—it’s something that expands. A child’s laughter does not reduce the world’s supply of joy; it increases it. A friend’s success does not erase our own potential; it shows us what is possible. Love given does not mean love taken away.

How Do We Cultivate Mudita?

Like any form of inner work, mudita is a practice. It starts with small shifts in perspective:

1. Notice the Resistance Without Judgment

The next time you feel even a slight discomfort at someone else’s success, pause. Instead of shaming yourself for the feeling, simply notice it. Oh, there it is. That little pang. Acknowledging it without judgment helps loosen its grip.

2. Reframe the Narrative

Instead of seeing someone’s happiness as separate from you, imagine it as something that adds to the collective joy of the world—including your own. Ask yourself: What if their happiness is proof that good things are possible for me too?

3. Actively Celebrate Others

Make it a habit to genuinely celebrate others’ wins, even in small ways. A heartfelt congratulations, a word of encouragement, a moment of shared excitement—all of these strengthen our ability to feel joy for others, until it becomes natural.

4. Seek Out Joy in Others’ Joy

Pay attention to how good it feels when someone else is happy. Watch a child open a gift, witness a friend light up when they talk about something they love. Let yourself absorb the warmth of it. Happiness, when truly felt, is contagious.

5. Expand Your Sense of Self

One of the deepest reasons we struggle with mudita is that we see ourselves as separate from others. But what if we saw ourselves as part of something bigger? What if another person’s joy was, in some way, our own? This shift in perspective—seeing ourselves as connected rather than competing—changes everything.

Becoming Comfortable With Joy That Isn’t Ours

Mudita is not about forcing joy or pretending we don’t have moments of jealousy or insecurity. It’s about expanding our capacity for happiness—ours and others’.

The truth is, happiness is one of the few things in life that grows when we share it. It doesn’t deplete like a resource. It’s more like a flame—one candle lighting another.

And so, the next time someone else’s joy flickers in front of us, instead of pulling away, maybe we can lean in. Maybe we can let it warm us, too.