Compassion of the Locust Tree
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It’s been raining for a few days here in the mountains.
All the trees are heavy with moisture.
Seeing a locust tree weighed down, I’m reminded of how it can withstand such weight.
It’s internal resilience, strengthened each year it grows.
The silver leaves of the locust tree
laden heavy with summer rain,
Shine brighter in the storm.
Yet when morning comes
and the dew lifts,
it’s character still remains.
I’ve wrapped up an excellent week. Life’s troubles are still present however.
Monday I wrote on some of my physical struggles with pain throughout life, and how that lead to mental struggles. And without a doubt, I am learning to navigate life going forward by being present with my injuries, but I would not be able to do so without having compassion for myself, versus the self deprecating judgement I allowed to take hold for so long.
Wednesday I wrote about a time where I stood up for someone on the team I was in charge of that was getting overwhelmed, and the necessity of leaders to have compassion.
It seems I’m struck this week by the concept of compassion in many ways.
There is such kindness in my ecosystem of peers and friends, more than I could ever ask for, and yet…
I would give the same respect and compassion to those same people without asking.
And therein lies the lesson I am finally teaching myself.
Compassion not just for others, but for yourself.
As we go through life, we are typically our harshest critic, sometimes developing a rough, thorny exterior to protect ourselves from harm in the face of toxic leadership, overbearing parents, and fair-weather friends; other times allowing the voices of others to become our own, if even for a short time.
This is likely why we are able to empathize and defend those we feel responsibility for, even to our own detriment, but downplay our accomplishments and amplify our misdeeds.
Professionally it’s not uncommon to develop the same exterior to fend off surface level people who aren’t up to our standards. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, as long as what is inside, your character, is resilient. If you are in charge of them, however, keeping your people at a distance robs you of a chance to help them grow, in all arenas of life.
Locust trees are notoriously resilient. Able to grow very tall and straight, they have thorns on their bark and branches that evolved to protect it from fauna. But their value comes not from the thorns that keep creatures away.
It’s in how strong the wood is. Even as young trees, they can be hard to split for firewood. Resistant to moisture and rot, they were traditionally used in construction of both foundations and framing as well as fencing.
Whether just for yourself or as a leader, you must always hold to your values.
Hopefully one of those is compassion, and if through your life you grow strong and resilient like a locust tree, that value will never erode.
Compassion can used in building the foundations of exceptional teams, and securing the borders of your organization against competition and interference.
It starts with you. Compassion for others but not yourself is just projecting what you need onto them rather than actually taking the time to see how you can support their development.
It isn’t easy. But it is worth it.
And like some locust trees, the older and more resilient you get, the more likely it is you can let those thorns fall away.
They become unnecessary.