"Not My Circus!" - and Other Lessons in Compassion

There’s a quote I’ve seen stitched on cushions and pinned to fridges:
“Be the change you want to see in the world.”

It’s almost too familiar to notice now, like a well-worn road sign we’ve stopped reading. And yet, lately, it’s been echoing in my thoughts. Not as a rally cry for grand transformation, but as a quiet whisper nudging me to notice how I show up in the smallest of moments.

Not in the big declarations.
Not in the perfectly crafted Instagram captions.
But in those everyday split-seconds where I choose between reacting with sadness, judgement or frustration vs responding with grace.

Lately, I’ve been watching myself and those around me closely. Not with judgement, but with curiosity. What makes people so quick to anger? Why do some seem to harden in the face of others' struggles, instead of soften? Why are compassion and patience increasingly hard to come by, or sometime even labelled as weaknesses?

Compassion in the Everyday

It’s easier to be kind when we have space to breathe, isn’t it? When we’re not overstretched, overtired, or managing invisible burdens.

But what about when life is full? When we’re juggling finances, families, work, broken systems, broken hearts? Compassion often becomes the first thing to disappear — not because it’s not there, but because it just feels like it costs more when we’re running on empty.

But the world doesn’t need our perfect compassion. It needs our imperfect effort. It needs someone who pauses for a beat, even when the to-do list is raging. Someone who says, “I see you,” even when they don’t have the energy to fix anything.

Sometimes, choosing that pause is how we show the next generation, the previous generation, our friends, and even ourselves that we are not too busy to care... Before it's too late for some of those people to benefit from it.

✨ “Do your little bit of good where you are; it's those little bits of good put together that overwhelm the world.”

— Desmond Tutu

Understanding Behind the Outburst

When someone close to us lashes out, when they seem angrier, colder, more reactive than usual, it’s tempting to pull away or take it personally. But anger is rarely a first emotion. Often, it’s standing in front of pain, or fear, or sheer burnout.

We’re not here to fix people, but we can witness them. We can sit beside their storm without needing to hold an umbrella over it - it's safe to sit in the rain together, because we're not made of sugar and it can sometimes be a positive story for another day.

And sometimes, just by not meeting fire with fire, we stop the blaze from spreading.

Sometimes, just listening without judgement is the kindness they didn’t know they needed.

The Mirror of Judgement

There’s a particular discomfort I’ve been learning to sit with when someone’s way of being grates on me, even though they haven’t harmed me directly. Their boldness, their confidence, their loud joy or odd quietness… something about them triggers something in me. And for a long time, I called it "annoying" or "stupid" if I wasn't comfortable with someone else's words or behaviours.

But more recently, I’ve come to see that my reaction is more about me than them. It’s about the parts of myself I’ve been taught to suppress: the too-loud; the too-quiet; the too-much; the not-enough. Their behaviour brushes up against my insecurities, and I instinctively push back.

Yet in those moments, when I pause and look in the mirror rather than out the window (maybe to plot their demise), I feel a strange kind of freedom.

I realise I don’t need to fix the other person, or even like them. But I can release myself from the prison of my own judgement against them.

✨ “Everything that irritates us about others can lead us to an understanding of ourselves.”

— Carl Jung