Finding Beauty in Kindness: A Reflection on Compassion

When I opened the curtains this morning, I enjoyed the sight of the sun casting its warm glow on the sleepy streets of my village. Silhouetted against the vibrant backdrop of the dawn sky, unremarkable rooftops that I had never given particular attention to suddenly became essential in framing the daybreak's warmth and soft light.

It was the moment I decided to change my morning routine, and like a pilgrim on the Camino, I was outside in minutes for a walk through my village. I walked down the windmill path and turned left before the whale bunker, leaving the Zeepe dunes on my right.

A bit further, I passed a garden where I found a handwritten sign reminding everyone passing by: "Compassion has no limit, kindness has no enemy."

Few people pass this sign on this quiet residential street, fewer will read it, and perhaps just a handful will be triggered by the text to reflect on the true essence of compassion and kindness.

I wish more people would.

Because in a world increasingly overshadowed by division and hostility, the notion that compassion knows no limit and kindness has no enemy could serve as a beacon of hope and inspiration. I believe a particular inherent goodness resides within each of us. But many forget they have the potential to be kind and compassionate; for millions more than just a few years ago, the daily reality consists of receiving unlimited hatred that overwhelms the natural dose of compassion that lives within their hurt souls.

I'm always touched by stories of compassion during warfare; I have read so many of these that I believe in the transformative power of empathy and understanding, urging us to look beyond our differences and embrace the shared humanity that unites us all.

I think of the story I read about a young woman risking her life to feed the stray dogs she wanted to feed during the first days of a recent war. Her compassion was not met; she was shot while driving back to safety.

I'm reminded of the many scenes I have seen recently of blind hatred towards "the others," alternated and contrasted by the kindness and compassion of those who have nothing, sharing the last bits of life and dignity they still have.

Real heroes live among us. They don't wear medals, most are never recognized, and they don't look like the heroes in Hollywood movies. They may look like you since you may actually be one.

The sign reminds me of Anne Frank, whose diary is a testament to her compassion and kindness even in the most difficult of times. She wrote:

"I keep my ideals because, despite everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart."

By now, the orange hues of the sunrise had been replaced by a light blue sky. I continued my walk in the nearby nature area while my brain processed the pictures and videos I had seen while spending too much time on the couch waiting for a fever to leave my body. I hadn't been able to, but now, outside, in nature, the words of Anne Frank pushed out the evil scenes I had witnessed. After all, it was Anne who wrote in her hidden attic:

"I don't think of all the misery, but of the beauty that still remains."

I read those words for the first time when I was Anne's age. Unlike her, I was privileged to live a whole life and follow up on those words that have always stayed with me. The context has changed. Not only because of her wartime changing into my peacetime; it has continued to change in my life.

The misery moved from Cambodia to Rwanda and on to places like the Balkans, Afghanistan, or today in Ukraine or Gaza. Increasingly, it extended its scope from geographic locations to broader themes like the climate crises and biodiversity loss.

But the context of beauty has also changed over time. While I worry every day about the global picture and its interconnections between geopolitics, unrivaled power of companies, incompetent leadership, and ignoring the urgency and severity of the environmental crisis, I find beauty at the other end of the spectrum: instead of global, long-term misery, I find beauty in the small and the temporary; the light that briefly warms the white tulips in my room, Luna noticing it and shifting from her comfy spot on the couch to the tulips and the light. Moments of beauty that warm my heart.

I can't leave Anne, compassion, and kindness without one last quote from her:

"How wonderful it is that nobody needs to wait a single moment before starting to improve the world."

And that includes you and me. Isn't that wonderful? There is no time to waste!

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I write this newsletter because I believe that together, we can do better on this beautiful but fragile planet.

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