ZTB-SKI in DC: Celebration of Compassion

• First place team (winners)
  • Tenzin Kunsal
  • Tenzin Geysem Dorjee
  • Kunden Dorjee
• Second place team (finalists)
  • Tenzin Choezom
  • Tseyang Lhamo
  • Tenzin Dazae

The Butterfly of Compassion

Being raised a Tibetan Buddhist, there is no value that has been instilled into me more than compassion. Of course, this doesn’t mean I’ve always understood it, or how it can make the world a better place.

Consider, for example, a story that my mom loves to remind me of. She always tells it with that same look in her face: lips quirked slightly in amusement, soft at the edges with sympathy. “Do you remember,” she’ll say thoughtfully, “when you cried because the neighbors’ boys were killing caterpillars?” I’d nod slowly, focusing on the hazy memory and comparing it to what she was telling me. There were two brothers who lived a few houses away from us, and were a couple years older than me. I used to play with them all the time, and one spring, the newest subjects of their fascination were the neon green and black-spotted caterpillars that could be found inching along every other leaf. Much to six-year-old-me’s dismay, the brothers were mainly entertained by squashing the little creatures. Heartbroken and crying, I ran to my parents and told them what was happening, but there was nothing I could do to save the caterpillars. When I was younger, I thought this was true compassion – the sorrow I felt at the suffering of another living being. I now think differently, but it took me years to realize what compassion actually is, and how it can help others.

In middle school, I learned that compassion required action, but I didn’t do it right at first. If a friend asked for assistance with their homework, I’d always help them, even when I had my own work to do. I did everything I could to be of service to others, because I thought that was what compassion was. It wasn’t until I’d become overwhelmed, burnt-out, and filled with self-loathing that I started to wonder if I’d gotten it wrong. Compassion needed action, and that is what I was doing… so why did it feel so awful?

Now that I’m older, I’d like to think I can answer that question. The Tibetan Buddhist Mandala of Compassion doesn’t only depict compassion as the focal point – it includes wisdom, too. Compassion cannot make the world a better place on its own, nor can blind action. We also need wisdom to guide us in doing what will bring about the most good, and what will help the most people. As a member of the Amnesty International chapter at my school, I’ve been able to take informed actions to make the world a better place. I’ve created posters, signed and advertised petitions, and educated my peers, all to help raise awareness of human rights violations around the world. Finally, I see how my compassion can make the world a better place. I see who I can impact with my advocating.

Compassion can make the world a better place because it ignites motivation and passion. This, combined with action and wisdom, allows for true change. Humans have never been the fastest, nor the strongest, nor the deadliest species. Our power and survival lies in our intelligence and strong connections to one another. I believe we must do all we can to help and uplift each other, because when we demand that a Ugandan human rights activist is released from unfair imprisonment, we demand equality and justice for all people on Earth. It is not enough to cry for the caterpillars – we must try to save them. My understanding of compassion has transformed over time, like a small metamorphosis of my very own. Once, I think, I was as helpless as a land-locked caterpillar, shuffling along a leaf. Now, I know that true compassion is like a butterfly – aware of its surroundings, able to take action and fly. This is the compassion that will make the world a better place – a compassion combined with wisdom and action, with love and awareness – a butterfly of compassion.