To be a good person... - Part 1

The Buddha once used a striking parable to illustrate just how difficult it is to obtain a human birth: the parable of the great blind turtle, as mentioned in Chiggala Sutta (SN 56.48).

Imagine a blind turtle living in the depths of the vast ocean. It surfaces only once every hundred years to poke its head above the water to breathe. For the rest of the time, it wanders in the deep, never seeing the light of day. Now, floating somewhere on that same ocean, there is a large piece of driftwood with just one small hole in it. The ocean is never still; the waves are constantly shifting the driftwood, sending it wherever the current takes it. The blind turtle, too, moves wherever it will. When a hundred years pass and the turtle finally surfaces, what are the chances that its head will pass exactly through the small hole in the driftwood? Almost impossible — yet it could still happen.

The Buddha said that for a being who has fallen into the four lower realms of hell, asura, animal and peta, the chance of becoming human again is even rarer than the turtle’s head finding that hole.

Why Human Birth Is So Rare

Think of the animals closest to us — cats, dogs, and other familiar creatures. How do they live? When they are full, they sleep. When they are hungry, they search for food. While searching, they often fight, bite, and quarrel. When they do find food, they guard it fiercely and share reluctantly, if at all. From the Dhamma perspective, this behaviour reflects deep-rooted mental states:

• The craving for food is lobha (greed).

• The possessiveness over obtained food, refusing to share, is macchariya (stinginess).

• The growling and aggression towards others is dosa (hatred).

For much of the rest of their lives, they are governed by moha (delusion).

If we carefully analyse their mental processes across their entire existence, we see that animals rarely accumulate wholesome kamma. From the very moment of conception (paṭisandhi), they lack the wisdom faculty. Therefore, they do not possess the wisdom to distinguish between moral and immoral actions. They also do not have wisdom that nurtures faith as well as other wholesome qualities that bring about desirable and favourable results. And so, good deeds and their results are rarily encoutered. The Buddha summed up the nature of animal life in just two Pali phrases: "aññamaññakhadaka" – they devour one another, and "dubbalakhadika" – the strong devour the weak. In the daily life of a typical, non-sheltered animal, this is their reality: immense suffering, short lives, and constant danger. When animals die in such states of fear, pain, and anger, their minds are seldom in a wholesome condition. As a result, the chance of human rebirth becomes extremely remote.

Generally speaking:

• Dying with greed dominant leads to rebirth as a peta (hungry ghost).

• Dying with hatred dominant leads to rebirth in hell.

• Dying with delusion dominant leads to rebirth as an animal.

When the mind is clouded with these defilements at the moment of death, the good destinations (sugati) are shut off entirely.

Valuing the Human State

In contrast, human life is relatively free from the constant torment and danger faced by animals. This is why the Buddha taught that "manussattabhāvo dullabho" — "human birth is rare and precious".

If we spend our days chasing sensual pleasures, clinging to anger, or drifting in ignorance, we squander a rare and extraordinary opportunity. In doing so, our lives become little different from those of animals, driven by impulse, lacking higher purpose. To make human life truly meaningful, we must consciously cultivate goodness. The Buddha spoke of many wholesome qualities that bring value and purpose to our existence. In this post, the first of many on this theme, we will focus on just one of the many essential qualities, leaving the others for future discussion: mutual empathy that leads to compassion.

Mutual Empathy

By “mutual empathy”, we mean a shared emotional understanding between two people or beings — both recognising and feeling each other’s emotions. It is a reciprocal process in which both parties truly empathise with one another.

This idea can be found in the Veludvāreyya Sutta, where the Buddha used the word "attupanāyika". This word can be defined as “to be examined or applied personally, by oneself”; in other words, using oneself as the standard when assessing one’s actions. It encourages inward reflection with questions such as: “Is this something I would want done to me?” and “Would this be acceptable if directed at me?”

It is a principle of self-assessment, urging us to compare others to ourselves in the way the Golden Rule suggests: “Just as I do not wish harm, so too others…” In brief, "attupanāyika" means “something that should be brought back to oneself for reflection or application.”

In that sutta, the Buddha explained that a person wishing to live happily in this life, and to enjoy a favourable rebirth, should reflect in this way to develop mutual empathy:

I want to live happily and do not wish to suffer. If someone were to make me suffer, I would not like it. Others also want to live happily and do not wish to suffer. If I act in ways that cause suffering for them, they will not like it either. What is disliked by me is disliked by others. Since I dislike this, how could I inflict it on someone else?

It is only by reflecting deeply in this way that we begin to let go of harmful verbal, physical, and mental actions that cause harm both to others and to ourselves. Without such reflection, beings act heedlessly, creating destruction. From such deep and thorough reflection, karuṇā (compassion) also start to naturally develop.

Attupanāyika is the practice of putting oneself in another’s place, imagining how they feel by comparing it with how you would feel in a similar situation. It is a form of reflection, with wisdom, rooted in the recognition of shared experience: “Just as I want to be free from pain, so do others.” For example, one might think, “If I were hungry, I would suffer; therefore, if another is hungry, they too must be suffering, and I should help.” This principle is echoed in the teaching of the Buddha: “Comparing oneself with others, one should neither kill nor cause others to kill."

Even among Buddhists who know intellectually that compassion should be developed, this practice can be difficult if mutual empathy is lacking. Without the ability to truly feel with another, genuine compassion cannot arise. We must learn to begin “from inside another’s experience” — to feel with them, not simply “feel for them.” Compassion that arises from shared emotional understanding can be sincere, whereas compassion that is distant risks being condescending and patronising, especially if it is offered without true understanding of another’s suffering. However, there needs to be wise attention and mindfulness at all times when practising so, as sorrow, grief, anger or other forms of aversion (dosa) can seep in.

For example, imagine a close friend has been diagnosed with terminal cancer. If you find it difficult to accept that this situation may be the result of their past unwholesome kamma ripening (such as breaking the first precept in a previous life or earlier moments of this life) then sorrow can quietly take hold, masking itself as compassion. Sorrow is, in fact, the closest enemy of true compassion. When circumstances become truly tragic, the heart struggles to bear the weight, and instead of compassion, a profound lamentation arises.

How do we prevent that? For anyone who wishes to develop mutual empathy and compassion, it is imperative that we firstly lay down a strong foundation of upekkhā or the right view of kamma: an equanimous state of mind which recognises that all beings are subject to their own kamma. Without this thorough reflection and understanding, one can easily feel sorrow, grief, anger, delusion or blame towards certain individuals or circumstances for this unfavourable situation. Afterwards, mutual empathy can be cultivated by genuinely placing yourself in their position, considering what they need, how you might bring them some joy or ease their pain, and most importantly, reflecting on how you might help ensure their future existences are more blissful. Through this mutual empathy, true compassion begins to develop. Compassion is a mental state of sympathy for one who suffers, coupled with a sincere desire to relieve or remove that suffering. When fully realised, compassion leads to selfless service, given freely and without expectation, not even the hope of gratitude.

This selflessness is vital, for all too often, even well-meaning acts of kindness carry hidden expectations. Perhaps, when you look closely, you might notice a subtle hope that the person’s presence will continue to bring you joy or ease your loneliness. Such expectations, though subtle, can negatively impact compassion. This means that when the person is no longer with you, the sorrow felt can be profound. Sometimes, even before their passing, there is a pre-emptive mourning: a sorrow for the future absence of their presence, and for the joy and comfort they have provided for you.

When practising compassion, it’s easy to unintentionally let subtle expectations or personal needs influence our actions. Even the slightest expectation can shift our motivation from genuine, selfless care to selfish reasons. Instead of truly stepping into another’s shoes and carefully considering what would genuinely ease their suffering, we might act based on assumptions or our own emotional needs.

For example, we may impose what we think is best for them — perhaps believing that a certain action will help — when in reality, it only adds to their pain. Sometimes, we act out of a desire to soothe our own discomfort, or simply because it aligns with what we want, instead of helping them truly alleviate their suffering. In these moments, compassion becomes clouded by ego and can inadvertently cause more harm than good.

Recognising these pitfalls is crucial. Genuine compassion requires continual self-reflection and mindfulness. We must admit that we do not always know what another truly needs — and cultivate patience and effort to listen and learn. This process improves through mutual empathy. Only by shedding our expectations and focusing on the other’s experience, truly feeling with them, can our compassionate actions become sincere and healing. This applies to our interactions with our parents, relatives, friends, children, neighbours and strangers, too!

Another reflection that can help use cultivate and strengthen genuine empathy and compassion is the understanding that we are the heirs of our own actions (kamma). When mutual empathy is combined with sincere care for both oneself and others —and guided by right view, particularly the right view of kamma — it becomes possible to refrain from harmful behaviour and focus only on goodness without the influence of ego and attachment. We can recognise that actions causing harm to others, even subtly, inevitably lead to our own suffering, even in the present moment. This awareness fosters a clear understanding of the principle: "What goes around, comes around."

Ultimately, developing mutual empathy and compassion is not just about helping others but also about growing in our own humanity — to be a good person. When we cultivate these qualities sincerely, they guide us toward living more meaningful and connected lives because after all, this is what the practice of brahmavihāra are all about. They remind us of our shared vulnerabilities and strengths and encourage us to act with wisdom and kindness in all our relationships. In this way, empathy and compassion form the foundation for a life of genuine goodness.