By Jason R. Martin, author of “Field Notes on My Existance: Mediations from an Examined Life”
Journal Entry: January 29, 2005
“Watch close your interactions and motivations for doing Godly works, lest they have self-centered intentions”
I am often a selfish man, resentful that the needs of others impede my freedom to be self-absorbed. I sit in peace, immersed in the True Self, my ego at bay. In that quiet state, I observe the world, its people, their sufferings, and their struggles to contend with this life. They cry out for help, support, and empathy. To answer their pleas with genuine compassion requires effort to abandon my stillness and expose myself to their agonies. But to receive compassion, I must be compassion—exerting myself for others and finding reward in the practice of compassion itself.
It is easy to love humanity inside the abstract world of my journal—to sit quietly and write about the feeling of goodwill toward all living things. But the true test arrives when philosophy meets the reality of human encounters. Compassion requires me to step out of my ego and offer my complete presence to the person standing directly in front of me, recognizing that everyone I cross paths with is fighting a quiet, unseen battle.
Leo Tolstoy captured this when he wrote that there is only one crucial time—now; one essential person—the one in front of you; and one vital purpose—to do them good. I must forge ahead in love and compassion in this way, no matter the effort needed. For what awaits is a deeper understanding of my being, my purpose, and my source.
My connection to the Whole is veiled behind human eyes, but when compassion manifests from within, the veil lifts just enough to peer at Truth. I remember who I am: a spark of the divine, ablaze within the wholeness of light. When this divine spark is recognized in others, our differences dissolve. Compassion toward all things is the course to a life rightly lived.
Thich Nhat Hanh taught that if you accidentally strike your left hand with a hammer, the right hand immediately cares for the left. The right hand does not call this charity; it acts because they are part of the same body. When I quiet my mind and recognize the mysterious interconnectedness that binds me to others, serving them is no longer a burden, for in doing so I am ministering to my own soul. Pouring myself into their care with the same enthusiasm I give myself generates a far more meaningful life. The key is to find contentment in serving others, and the gateway to that mindset is through compassion.
Compassion can be practiced by doing nothing more than giving complete attention to another. No words are required to sit and listen patiently, only a willingness to surrender the desire to be elsewhere. To listen fully in their presence without offering unsolicited advice, passing judgment, or preparing a response is genuine validation of their existence. It is here that self-absorption is extinguished.
I learned this on Thanksgiving Day, 2010. My daughter graduated high school not long before and was dating a young man whose future was uncertain after serving time in prison. I had to work the holiday, and on my drive in, my wife called me. Her voice was a tense mix of fear, excitement, and trepidation.
“Jason, your daughter has something to tell you,” she said.
She handed the phone over, and my daughter spoke: “Dad, I’m pregnant.”
Those words hit me so hard I almost had to pull off the freeway just to collect myself. A flood of thoughts rushed through my mind as I realized how drastically both her future and ours had just shifted off course. I couldn’t say much of anything as the shock set in; I just tried to stay focused on the road.
“Oh wow. Okay. Let’s talk about this when I get home,” was all I could muster.
My wife took the phone back and kept talking, but I have no memory of what she said. I was in complete disbelief, and my ears were ringing with rage. My daughter was nineteen and I was thirty-seven.
I arrived at work and remained noticeably distant from my peers, who thankfully gave me space. All day long, I fixated on how I was going to respond when I got home. I felt angry, worried, happy, and sad all at once. By the time I headed back, I was prepared to deliver a heavy speech about carelessness, the reality of motherhood, money, jobs, security, and healthcare. The closer I got to the house, the more that rage built. By the time I pulled into the garage, I was ready to let it all out.
Then, as I stepped out of the car, something washed over me—a sudden, deep sense of peace, almost like a quiet, loving embrace. Not too dissimilar from my experience at sea years before. As I approached the front door, I knew exactly what I needed to do.
I walked in, and there she stood—sheepish, frightened, and visibly ashamed. Her mother stood just behind her with a hand on her shoulder, both staring at me, waiting for the storm to hit. I set my work bag down and looked my daughter in the eye. Tears began to stream down her face.
I looked into her eyes, stretched out my arms and said nothing. An immediate sense of relief washed over her, and she collapsed into my arms.
Looking back, setting aside my anger and offering a purely compassionate response was the only appropriate way to handle a moment like that. Sometimes words are useless, and all that’s required is a loving embrace that communicates everything.
Compassion is not just an outward manifestation, but an inner one as well. In many ways, it is easier to show compassion toward others because their needs are not always present, whereas the issues my ego manifests are always carried with me. Self-compassion is necessary because it is easy to criticize my shortcomings. Grace must be extended toward myself for compassion to genuinely flow outward. Showing compassion at the expense of myself is not the goal; building myself through compassion is. It is like the Golden Rule in reverse: treat myself as I would treat others. From this, compassion reaches its highest potential.
I must learn to love unconditionally and sow seeds of compassion in hostile soil. I must respond to all of life’s challenges with compassion, extending it even toward those who position themselves as my enemy. Compassion requires empathy—the willingness to see through another’s eyes and acknowledge their hidden struggles. Practicing these virtues helps set others free from their own chains of self-doubt. I do not act compassionately to gain approval, but to uphold my own philosophical path. That way, if my compassion is rejected, I am not tempted to withhold it in future encounters.
I choose to pour compassion out of me like a waterfall and let others decide how large a container to bring. Behind every container is a human soul. If we approached every social and geopolitical problem from a foundation of compassion, we could solve conflicts more effectively and far more peacefully.
But I must do my part. I have long believed that my purpose in this life is to master compassion—precisely because I find it so challenging. In following this path, I trust that every step I take toward it in this life elevates my journey in the next.
