Moving outward

Having spoken in the previous article about moving inward to meet ourselves, I would like to explore the question that naturally follows: “Now that I see myself more clearly, how about others?” Compassion is often described as a feeling, and I believe it can also be understood as a posture of the mind (and heart). It is an exercise of attention and care beyond the self, toward another person and their experiences. Once understood, this exercise can be practised and strengthened, with the motivation of contributing to collective wellness. 

The psychology of reaching outward

Psychologist Barbara Fredrickson's Broaden-and-Build Theory offers a useful starting point. She puts forward the argument that positive emotions don't just feel good in the moment; they broaden our thinking, widen our behavioural options and build lasting inner resources. These emotions, such as joy, gratitude, and contentment, do their first work within us: they calm our bodies, quiet our worries, and leave us feeling steadier and more resourced. From this settled place, our attention is freed up from self-protection, which we can then direct outwards, making us more likely to notice and connect with the people around us and their experiences. Seen in this light of broadened awareness, compassion is lived out through empathic concern, where we genuinely feel with someone, because true compassion doesn't look away; it moves toward.

Individual healing and collective wellbeing are not separate projects. Each one nourishes the other. Sociologist Robert Putnam's work on social capital (the networks, relationships, and norms built between people) reminds us that compassion is not only a private virtue but a public resource.  Every act of outward-moving compassion is a small deposit into the shared account of communal flourishing, helping to build trust, reciprocity, and resilience in the face of hardship.

Wisdom from three traditions

Several spiritual traditions recognise the need for this same outward turn. In the Christian tradition, Jesus tells the parable of the Good Samaritan who tends to the wounds of a Jewish man who had been robbed, beaten and left for dead, at a time in history when people from the two communities did not associate with each other. This story was told to offer a reframe of one’s neighbour, not just as someone geographically close, but as anyone whose suffering we choose to notice and answer. Compassion is seen here as a decision.

In Buddhist practice, metta, also known as loving-kindness meditation, is a deliberate training of the heart to cultivate goodwill for oneself, and then send it out to loved ones, to strangers, and ultimately to all beings. It treats compassion not as a mood we wait for, but as a muscle we build, extending our care outward one circle at a time.

And closer to home, the Kenyan spirit of harambee (let us all pull together) points to the same truth through a Kenyan lens. Long before it was a national motto, harambee was a village practice: neighbours pooling labour and resources to build houses, bring in a harvest, or carry a family through hardship. Jomo Kenyatta drew on this tradition in his 1963 independence address, calling on the various communities freshly bound into one young nation, to set aside their differences and build the country together. That original purpose feels worth remembering as we approach the 2027 general election. Election seasons have a way of sharpening the lines between "us" and "them," and it is precisely then that compassion for people outside our own circle is most tested and most needed. Harambee reminds us that our nation is not necessarily built by everyone agreeing, but on everyone choosing, again and again, to pull together despite our differences.

Healing within, healing between

Moving outward, then, is not a departure from the inner work but a natural extension of it. The self-awareness we cultivate inward, and the resilience we build moving forward, find their fullest expression in how we turn toward others, especially those who differ from us. Compassion does not ask us to erase our differences; it asks us to honour them, making room for other stories, faiths, languages and viewpoints alongside our own. As Putnam's research suggests, a community that practises this kind of compassion builds a safety net strong enough to catch any one of us in times of crisis. Wellness was never meant to be a solitary achievement. It is a shared ecosystem we must choose to build, protect, and sustain, together.