On the day before a deadline you sit down at your desk to do the work that lies before you – to craft another set of words that will inspire and challenge your readers. You set your pen against the paper. You prepare for the words to flow.

They don’t.

Instead, the only thing that comes to mind is what you wrote the week before. Last week, you created something amazing. You got lots of encouraging feedback. You touched people. You made a difference in the world.

But that was last week, and now the pressure of that success weighs you down. You wonder:

“How can I live up to what I did last time? What if what I create isn’t as good?”

“What if I just got lucky last time?”

“How can I create something big and extraordinary?”

“How can I change the world when all my ideas seem so small and insignificant?”

You struggle to find the perfect idea. The more you think, the more you get stuck and the harder it gets. The deadline’s approaching. People are counting on you. People are expecting you to create something amazing.

But you have nothing.

***

We face a lot of pressure. Whether it comes from ourselves or from others, we often feel the need to be the best we can be, to produce work that leaves a mark on the world, and to touch people in a big way.

And while it’s true that we are more powerful than we think we are, the pressure to be great can destroy our ability to make a difference in the world. It can prevent us from taking action.

By worrying about having a massive impact, we forget the day to day actions of meaning and connection. We forget to ground our work in the here and now.

When I look at heroes such as Gandhi, Mother Teresa, or my father, I see not just the significant accomplishments, but a moment-by-moment way of living.

They served the people directly around them – showing compassion and kindness to everyone they met. They lived out their values not just in the big moments when the spotlight was on, but in daily life when no one was watching. They practiced. They did their work – step by step, day by day.

On some days it was easy. On other days they struggled. But they kept showing up. They kept making a difference.

So when you feel the weight of expectations, remember you don’t have to change the whole world right now. Just do what you can, with what you have, where you are. That is all you have to do.

One small, imperfect step is always better than a big idea you never act on.

now, what a glorious time
here, what an excellent place
this, what a work of grace
you, yes you

***

After a short break, you return to your desk, pick up your pen, and start working again.

Maybe what you create won’t be as good as last time. Maybe it won’t be good at all. But this is your practice. And right now, this is what you’re here to do.

That is enough.

###

It was rush hour on a Friday afternoon and people packed into the bus. Near me stood a young professional carrying a large handbag. As the bus swerved and jostled through traffic, someone brushed against her bag. The lady turned – out of reflex – to see what was going on. Glancing around and seeing nothing of note, she returned to staring out the window.

Whether the young woman had intended her look to be an accusation or not, I don’t know. But that’s how the man seated behind her took it. He grumbled at her, “If you’re so convinced I’m going to steal from your purse, why don’t you go stand somewhere else?” Swearing to himself, he turned back toward the window.

The incident made me wonder.

Maybe it was only a small conflict, a one-to-one interaction gone awry. It could have simply been the result of a bad mood or poor timing.

But what if it was a result of something bigger – an echo of a greater disrespect, disconnection and distrust? What if it was the result of years of being treated a certain way?

In the face of such distrust and suspicion, how can we ever find peace? Is it possible?

***

My destination was a talk by Sakyong Mipham Rinpoche as part of his “Imagining Peace” tour. His words spoke into my questions:

Start with how we think about human nature. What if we focused not on what’s wrong with people, but on what’is right? What if we assumed that people have a basic value – a basic goodness?

Change yourself first. While we cannot force others to change, we can change ourselves. To make the world a more peaceful place, we have to learn to be at peace with ourselves. To see more humanity in the world, we have to be human ourselves.

Remember that everything happens on an individual level. Society is a vast network of one-to-one connections. And without respect in those single connections, society breaks down. But in the same way, we can make a difference one person at a time – one interaction at a time.

Act. The great teachers and leaders throughout history did not just sit back and bask in their teachings. They got up. They went out and did something – putting their understanding into practice. Peace is not passive. It requires our strength, skill, and intelligence.

***

On the bus home, I pondered the evening’s talk.

But just as I began jotting down a few reflections, I was interrupted. A man started talking loudly. He was drunk. His angry ramblings filled the bus, making it difficult to concentrate on my writing.

Often, my response is to get upset. “How dare this man interrupt my peace and quiet?” I’d think. Not this time. Instead I offered a short prayer of compassion for the man and turned back to my writing.

Maybe it was only a small encounter, a one-to-one interaction gone right. It could have simply been the result of my good mood.

But what if it was a result of something bigger – an echo of a greater respect and goodness? What if it was the result of practicing a certain way of life?

In the face of that goodness, perhaps peace really is possible.

###

I open the mailbox. A solitary letter sits inside. You were not accepted, it says. You were not enough to get into this program. You are not enough.
 

A bomb detonates. Shards of metal and flame extinguish life. Another crater gets left behind. Another family gets ripped apart by a drone strike. Why must my “freedom” cost so many innocent lives?
 

He was just a young boy. He could have been done so much with his life. Why was he shot? Why was his body left cold on the pavement on that dark, winter night?
 

There’s so much malice contained in the buzzing of a mosquito – so much sickness in its sting. Preventable. Treatable. Yet it still delivers death to millions.
 

The sirens never seem to stop. They wail and wail and wail. Trouble. Sickness. Injury. Crime. Death. Will they go ever go silent?
 

Water rises. And in a flash, the little they had washes away. The storm takes their last hope. And they have nothing. What solace can I offer them?

***

There’s so much pain and hurt in the world. It can strike us in a barrage of emotion – threatening to overrun us.

How do we allow ourselves to feel enough of that pain – enough that we remain human, enough that we still show compassion, and enough that we don’t become cold and uncaring?

At the same time, how do we avoid taking too much of it on – too much that we become overwhelmed, too much that we give up hope, or too much that we become broken ourselves.

I would love to tell you I have a perfect answer to these questions. But I don’t. Nor do I believe there is such an answer – a simple formula or rule that works in every situation. Instead, we’re left with a journey, a lifelong exploration of what it means to be human. We’re left with life.

I have, however, found a few things helpful on my journey.

Lean into the tension – keep asking the questions, keep pushing the boundaries, and keep experimenting with new approaches. Sometimes, we’ll get the balance wrong and will be left paralyzed by the hurt. Or we won’t do enough when we should have. But it’s how we learn.

Start with our journey – our personal practice and growth. With simple steps such as offering prayers of compassion to strangers, sitting in meditation, or greeting the people we pass on the sidewalk, we can, over time, get better at living into the tension. And from our transformation, we can transform others.

Focus on one thing and put the rest aside. There’s a lot of need in the world, but it’s OK for us not to help with everything. For the many things we can’t change, sometimes the best thing we can do is offer a short prayer, trust another will help in that situation, and return to the work we’re called to do.

Seek out community. We don’t have to do it alone. The support of others gives us strength we couldn’t have come up with on our own.

But most of all, remember the good. For all the suffering, there is much to be grateful for. It may not all be good, but it’s also not all bad. That’s worth celebrating.

***

What about you? How do you lean into the tension? What are some practices you’ve found helpful in working with the suffering and hardship of life?

###

PS: My thanks to Tom for his great questions in the comments last week.

All they wanted was some spare change to buy glue. And in sniffing the fumes of that glue, just maybe they could get high enough to forget. To forget that they hadn’t eaten a meal for days. To forget that their bodies were tired and broken. To forget the cold nights out on the streets – breathing the foul smoke of a burning tire for the sake of staying warm. To forget that no one wanted them.

***

When I used to work downtown, I passed the same old man nearly every day. He had a white beard and a knotted cane. And to everyone who passed, he offered a song of blessing – though it was out of tune and heavyhearted.

And on those days filled with icy rain or gusting winds, you could still see him sitting there on that black, upside-down crate. He’d hold out an empty paper cup, hoping that the blessings in his songs would come back to him – even if they were only enough for a bite to eat, a bed to sleep on, or a drink to warm against the cold winter nights.

***

I once saw a man on the train platform. He walked, pacing back and forth and staring blankly off into the distance. He looked exhausted. When the train arrived, he boarded the same car as I did.

He was crying. He hadn’t slept in 48 hours. His wife had died the day before, and he was alone. It was New Years Eve.

***

I remember these people. I remember their pain.

Why must they bear such suffering? Why must they be alone and without hope?

Such hardship. Such heartache. How can I stand in the face of it all? It often feels I am so powerless – so helpless.

standing in the storm
amid the rain of lightning
breaking all around
and beneath the thunder’s roar
who shall hear the falling tears

There are times where the only thing we can do is allow ourselves to embrace the hurt. We don’t have to have the answers. It is enough that we care.

Sometimes the only appropriate response is tears.

###

He pays his fare without a smile and moves toward the back of the bus. But the bus is crowded, and he can’t avoid bumping into several people on the way. He offers no gesture of pardon or apology. Reaching an empty seat, he sits down, crosses his arms, and retreats into the hood of his winter coat.

To you, I wish joy. May you find a reason, even if it be small, to smile. May you find a moment of laughter.

The woman in the red jacket appears restless. She checks her phone. Must be no new messages new for a moment later, she puts the phone away. She glances around the bus. “Why won’t the driver move us faster?” her face seems to say. Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. Her feet rap against the floor. She pulls out her phone again.

To you, I wish peace. May you find contentment in your journey. May you be at ease.

The heavyset man with the white beard is probably drunk. He speaks loudly. Though he sits across the aisle from me and his words are in clear English, I can’t make out what he says. A bottle of liquor pokes out from the black shopping bag beside him. On he rambles.

To you, I wish a safe journey home. May you arrive without injury to yourself or others. May you have a good night of sleep tonight.

A mother with her daughter get on the bus. The mother directs her child to a seat and they sit down next to each other. The noisy bus doesn’t make the best place for conversation, so they both stay quiet.

To you, I wish your relationship may be full of life and joy. May it grow stronger and stronger.

Standing upright near the rear exit is an older gentleman. We had both waited for the bus at the same stop, sharing jokes until the bus arrived. A smile still shines in his eyes.

To you, friend, I wish continued laughter and delight. May you enjoy the rest of your day. May your smile be contagious.

I can’t see the driver. He sits behind a partition, concentrating on the traffic ahead of us. I do remember him smiling as I boarded the bus though.

To you, brother, I wish safety as you drive. May you find delight in your work — in the turning of the wheel, the blinking of the lights, and the interactions with those you serve.

I watch the people in the bus. Often, I’ll create narratives for each person — judging their actions and inadvertently pretending I’m superior to them. But today, I remember to practice. I act on the words of Father Greg Boyle: “How can we seek a compassion that can stand in awe at what people have to carry rather than stand in judgment at how they carry it?”

To each person, I try and offer a small prayer of blessing.

to you
who is worthy
of goodness and joy
I wish goodness and joy

to you
who deserves
boundless love
I wish boundless love

My well wishes probably won’t make a difference to the people I wish them to. Sure, there’s a small chance they’ll notice my smile toward them. There’s a possibility I’ll have an opportunity to help them later. But most likely, they’ll never know of my blessing. They’ll continue with their days as if nothing happened.

But really, the practice isn’t about them. It’s about me. It’s about us.

For each time we choose to see another person’s suffering instead of casting judgment we train ourselves to be open.

Each time we offer a simple blessing to someone, we force ourselves to look outward. We see the world beyond ourselves. We see that we are not the only ones with needs and struggles. Slowly, but steadily, we strengthen our capacity for empathy, compassion, and generosity.

There will come a time when we will be able to give more than an unspoken blessing. We will have the chance to touch another — to offer compassion and service. And because of our practice, we will be ready.

***

Several minutes later, I step off the bus. I feel as though all the blessings I wished upon others have rained down on me.

###

The day had been a long one. I was nearly home. To go back meant not seeing my family for a moment longer.

The request wasn’t uncommon. People frequently ask me for help, and I often say no. Going back would have been unexpected.

But something made me turn. Something made me look back at the woman who had just asked me for money.

She still stood near the train station exit, petitioning commuters for spare change as they got off the train. Her head bent downward – as though a great weight pressed down upon her. Her body shook. She was crying.

My instincts told me to keep going – to walk home and forget the woman. “You can’t help everyone. You don’t have enough skill or resources to deal with her situation. Anything you do will just be temporary. You can’t understand her. Her pain is too unlike anything you’ve ever experienced.”

But I walked toward her anyways.

She shared that she’d been renting a room nearby. But the day before, she ran out of money. She couldn’t pay for the night’s rent. With nowhere else to go, with no one to turn to, she’d spent a sleepless night in the cold.

She had hoped to get enough money today to pay for shelter. She had hoped for enough to get something to eat. But the dollar she’d made so far wasn’t going to cover either of those.

It hurt me to hear her suffering. It made me uncomfortable. I wasn’t sure how or how much to help her.

worry
straight from the heart
as you approach the hurt
exposed, open to the other
kindness

Our default reaction to pain is often to pull back – to stay safe and comfortable. Our instincts often tell us to lean away from brokenness. I’m coming to believe those instincts are wrong. Maybe we should lean into it instead.

Facing the brokenness brings fear, vulnerability and uncertainty. But it’s also the mark of bravery, strength, and humanity.

***

I walked away feeling uneasy.

By many measures, I went further than most others would have. I talked to her. I took time to acknowledge her suffering. I made an effort to treat her with dignity. I gave her a hug. I donated a dollar. I did something.

But looking at what most people would have done is a poor measure. It is not against an unnamed other that I judge my actions. I must evaluate my actions against the person I wish to be.

And by that standard I knew I had not done enough. I held back. I should have done more.

failure
time and again
it breaks all your patterns
open, exposed to the other
learning

We want to live lives of extravagant service. We want to show compassion in all we do. Sometimes we succeed. But often we fall short. We don’t do enough. We err too much on the side of caution.

We won’t get the balance right every time. We may use our resources ineffectively. Other times we may hold them back when we should give more.

That’s part of the process. It’s a sign that we’re engaged. It’s a sign that we’re asking ourselves the right questions. We can take our experiences and learn from them. We can keep moving forward.

***

I don’t know if I’ll ever see the woman again. I hope she found more than just a place to spend the night and food to eat. I hope someone helped her.

And even though I don’t feel I did enough, I’m grateful for the encounter. I’m appreciative of the chance to show a small kindness. I’m thankful for the experience and learning. But most of all, I’m glad I went back.

###

It was late in the evening. The work probably wasn’t his favorite thing to do. The job wasn’t that interesting or glamorous. But he showed up. He did what he was expected to do.

Our bathtub was clogged, and the water wouldn’t drain. The repairman worked away at clearing the block.

Half an hour later, I watched him clean up. His movements were slow and heavy. His shoulders drooped. He still bore a smile, but it didn’t hide his tiredness. It looked as though his day had been a full and busy one.

He was just doing his job. He didn’t need anything from me. I could have said nothing and let him go on with his evening.

But I had an opportunity to show compassion. I had the opportunity to give a small gesture of gratitude. So I walked to the kitchen, filled a glass with cold water, and handed it to him.

***

They were just doing their jobs.

The work was difficult and hard. The pay probably wasn’t that great. They may have wished they were doing something different. But they were there. They did what they were expected to do.

The outer brick on our apartment building needed repair. With electric grinders, the crew dug out the old, broken mortar and resealed the cracks with fresh mortar. It was a noisy and dirty job.

On my way into the building one afternoon, I passed the men as they took a break. Dust covered their clothes and skin — caking as it mixed with their sweat. They slumped as they sat together. The day was hot, and they looked worn out.

They were just doing their jobs. They didn’t need anything from me. It wouldn’t be unexpected if I didn’t say anything and went on with my day.

But I had an opportunity to show compassion. I had the opportunity to give a small gesture of appreciation. I walked past them without a word.

***

no other moment
only the one before you
what will you do with it

Every interaction offers us the same opportunity: the chance to show compassion.

Maybe our actions will make a difference — the consequences of our kindness rippling outwards. Or maybe they won’t. But either way, the opportunity still remains.

We can be the kind of people we wish to be. Or not.

***

She was just doing her job.

She could have made better money elsewhere. The work may have felt boring and repetitive. It wasn’t the most glamorous job. But she was there. She did what she was expected to do.

She took my order for lunch.

The night before had been a restless one. I hadn’t slept well. As I placed my order, my eyes kept wanting to close. She could see my tiredness.

She was just doing her job. She didn’t need to do anything for me. She could have said nothing and let me go on with my day.

But she had an opportunity to show compassion. She had the opportunity to give a small gesture of kindness. With a big smile on her face, she filled my order and wished me a wonderful afternoon.

I didn’t feel quite as weary anymore.

###

Many of them will wear sharp suits and crisp ties. Warm coats will fit neatly to their figures. Briefcases of leather will carry important documents, a laptop, and maybe even a tablet.

Many of them will be heading to work on a short commute. But even that seems too long. So they’ll pull out their phones, read the news and catch up on the gossip with their friends.

Many of them will go to work in high-rise office buildings. The windows beside their desks will look out at the clouds.

Many of them will worry about a variety of things, but hunger will not be one of them. Neither will shelter. Those are guaranteed.

I’ve been on that train. I’ve been one of those people. I probably still am.

***

But today, I’m on a different train. It’s five in the morning, and I’m headed to the airport to catch one of the first flights out of the city. I observe my fellow passengers.

Many of them sit hunched over, trying to catch a few more minutes sleep before a long and tiring day ahead. Coats with tattered edges hide them from the cold.

Many of them have only reached the midpoint of their journey. Two hours is a typical commute — one way.

Many of them will go to work at the airport. They will remain on the ground while the planes they serve soar skyward.

Many of them will wonder if they’ll keep their job. They’ll worry about bringing in enough money to pay the rent and put food on their tables.

I’m on this train. I see these people. On the surface it seems like so much is different between us. But I wonder.

why the distance between us?
we’re so much the same
aren’t we?
same dreams
same schemes

why the separation between us?
we’re so much the same
isn’t it true?
more alike
than not

why the gap between us?
we’re so much the same
is it luck?
some rich
others poor

why the separation?
we’re so much the same
is it birth?
one from here
another there

why do we stand apart?
we’re so much the same
can we bridge the gap?
shake hands
share together

why the distance between us?
we’re so much the same
aren’t we?
both valuable
both worthy

I don’t have an answer to my questions – only a reminder that people need compassion. No matter their lot in life, they need someone to stand alongside them.

Will I stand with them? Will I uphold our dignity?

Will you?

###

But it’s morning. It’s a new day. You should be excited. You should be thankful to be alive. You should be happy, happy, happy.

“Oh shut up and let me rejoice with my eyes closed.”

Bitter sleet raps upon the window pane
Lacking the grace and elegance of snow
And neither promising the life of rain
A tantrum of a winter yet to go

After much deliberation, you take off the blankets and sit up. Man! It’s freezing in here. Why do I live in this cold place? You stumble out of bed. I am so tired this morning. I don’t feel like doing anything today. Maybe a shower will help get you going.

Grasses gusting in a wind uncertain
A movement to and fro without release
Not even pausing every so often
To capture a fleeting moment of peace

You walk to a nearby coffee shop. Wind whips against your coat, forcing you to clench it even even tighter. You wonder if your mood imitates the miserable weather, or if nature just decided to commiserate with you? Probably the later.

Maybe a hot drink will put you in a better mood.

The city lies beneath a shroud of gray
Not quite the dark of restful hours of night
Nor joyous brightness of a sunny day
Everything is lit by a dreary light

You look out the window at a little dog tied to the fence outside. She sits waiting for her owner, who’s inside getting a cup of coffee. Despite her thick fur, she shivers from time to time. She gazes at the window in anticipation of her owner’s return.

Yet despite being cold and alone, she stays in place. She doesn’t pace back and forth. She doesn’t bark to get attention. She accepts her situation and waits.

***

Some days are just difficult. Sometimes you feel sad, frustrated, tired, or alone. Sometimes you lack strength and energy. Sometimes you deal with grief or loss.

When those days come – and they will – remember that it’s OK to feel bad. Accept it as reality. You don’t have to judge yourself. You don’t need to add the weight of how you’re “supposed” to feel.

***

While all around the wind bears forth its strife
Each person does their best to carry on with life

You turn your attention back to the dog outside. Her owner returns and unties the leash. The dog wags her tail as they continue their walk together.

Life goes on.

###

It’s the first Taekwondo promotion test of the year, and I’m helping out. The current group of kids testing are all relatively new to the art.

At the end of the test, they each have an opportunity to break a board. For many of them, it’s their first time. One by one, they walk up to the front of the group to take their turn.

I watch as a little girl — a first grader — reaches the front of the room for her attempt. She takes a step back back and prepares to strike.

A flicker of doubt passes across her face. Will the board break? Am I strong enough? Here goes nothing.

Snap! The board splits in two.

She stares at it with disbelief. I actually broke it. Wow!

Everyone watching applauds as she returns to her spot in line. The surprise still shows on her face. Her stance is different than before. She holds her back straighter. She holds her head higher. A touch of pride sparkles in her eyes.

Some of these kids may not think of themselves as being strong. Power may not be written into the story they tell themselves. But it’s there.

***

you, yes you
are capable of
so many
powerful acts

You have the ability to do much good in the world. You have the capacity to impact the people around you — in big ways and small ways. You are powerful.

Sometimes you may not feel that power. You may not realize just how much you’re able to do. Sometimes self-doubt can overwhelm you. You may stop feeling strong and capable.

But you can change how you feel. You can change your mindset.

The way to feel powerful is to do things that make you feel powerful. Lead with action. And those actions will change your self-perception.

Celebrate what you’ve already done. You’re not starting from nothing. Draw strength from past victories.

Change your posture. Right now, pause and sit up a little straighter. Notice how it makes you feel. A strong body tells the mind it’s supposed to feel strong.

Help one person. Remember that if you can affect someone one time, then you can do it again, and again, and again. You have the power to touch someone.

Surround yourself with people who lift you. Let them give you the strength you don’t feel for yourself.

Act out of your strengths and gifts. And as someone once told me, strengths are simply the things that make us feel strengthened. It feels good to do what you’re good at.

With each action — with each step — you prove to yourself that you are strong. And you believe it.

***

Later that day, I walk through the cool winter air. The memory of the last few hours plays through my mind.

I recall standing in front of the judges for my evaluation, committed to bring everything I had. I recall the strength of my warm-up punches. I recall the confidence as I ran through my patterns. I recall the force of my kicks — crashing through the boards that seemed to offer no resistance. I recall the energy of sparring with my partners. I did well today — far better than I expected I would.

As I remember, my back straightens. I hold my head a little higher. I feel strong.

I am unstoppable.

So are you.

###