Compassion and self-compassion

I’ve always believed that compassion must begin with self-compassion. To extend patience and understanding to others, we must first loosen the grip of self-hatred—of inner speech that is vitriolic, unforgiving, or cruel. Make a mistake, and listen—the voice that follows is rarely compassionate.

Our judgments of ourselves matter. Persistent self-loathing, frustration, or sadness do not form a reservoir from which compassion can be drawn. How can we offer others what we do not allow ourselves to feel?

This idea is echoed in the Christian tradition as well. When Jesus says, “Love your neighbour as yourself,” the second half of the command is often overlooked. Loving others presumes a capacity to love oneself. Without that foundation, kindness and compassion toward others become difficult to sustain.

Before compassion can be extended outward, it must be practiced inwardly—in the way we speak to ourselves when we fall short.

Judgment, inner tranquility, and the capacity to care

The Stoics understood this dynamic clearly. They recognized that our inner reasoning— the logic we construct about events— shapes our judgments, and our judgments shape our actions.

It is not things themselves that disturb people, but their judgments about things. - Epictetus, Enchiridion, 5

That insight applies not only to external events, but also to the judgments we direct inward—toward our own mistakes, shortcomings, and struggles.

Inner steadiness as the foundation

Inner steadiness, then, is not a luxury or a retreat from moral life; it is its foundation. Without it, compassion toward others becomes strained, inconsistent, or performative. With it, compassion becomes steady and genuine.

A spiritual teacher once shared a story from his days working as a trader on the fourteenth floor of the old Exxon Building in New York. One afternoon, while walking through a nearby park during a sudden downpour, he noticed a man lying facedown on the wet pavement. Another passerby walked directly over him without slowing.

Instead, my teacher stopped. He went to the man, lifted him up, and helped him to safety.

Our compassion also shapes our character

What makes one person oblivious to suffering, while another responds?

When we are compassionate to others, we are also shaping our own character. Lending a hand—sharing a meal, offering presence, or simply listening—can be quietly cleansing to the soul. Yet Stoic compassion does not mean drowning in another’s sorrow. Empathy allows us to understand suffering; compassion guides us to respond without losing ourselves in it. If both are overcome by distress, who remains to help?

Compassion as justice in action

Family makes this easier to grasp. We share the same DNA. We break bread together. We often live parts of our lives under the same roof. But what about strangers? Do we not share the same origin?

Nature produced us related to one another, since she created us from the same source and to the same end. - Seneca, Moral Letters, 95.52

Compassion, then, is rightly understood as an expression of the Stoic cardinal virtue of Justice (dikaiosynń)—acting for the common good, grounded in our shared humanity.

I’ve been involved with Meals on Wheels for several years in San Diego, delivering food to senior citizens, many of whom are shut in. Sometimes I catch myself thinking, Who would do this for me someday, God willing?—a Stoic reserve clause if there ever was one.

I also volunteer with Interfaith, helping prepare meals for those battling addiction. I see the individuals—mostly men, many my age—and wonder how their paths led them there. It stirs sadness, yes, but also compassion. Stoicism does not ask us to look away from suffering; it asks us to meet it with steadiness and care.

Stoicism treats compassion as justice in action—guided by wisdom and restrained by temperance. It is not about feeling more, but about responding well. Stoicism without compassion would still be Stoicism in theory, but it would be incomplete in practice—justice unexpressed, wisdom unused.

Human beings exist for the sake of one another. - Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, 8.59

Compassion, then, is neither weakness nor indulgence. It is the quiet recognition that we are bound together—and that offering help, and accepting it when needed, is simply living in accordance with nature. When we practice compassion toward ourselves, we cultivate the steadiness required to offer it to others. And when the time comes, we must also be willing to accept the hand that is extended to us.

Glenn Citerony is an Executive Wellness Coach who employs Stoic concepts to help improve people’s lives. He is passionate about Stoicism and its relevance to addressing today’s challenges. Glenn can be reached at glennciterony.com.

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