Compassion with a Spine

May 30, 2025 Empathy - Compassion No Comments

Compassion doesn’t mean surrender, nor pleasing or flattering. It means staying upright, gentle, and clear ― especially when it’s difficult.

This is the kind of strength the world is missing, and the kind Lisa brings. It’s not the dead spine of a skeleton but a living spine, as that of a human being — flexible, sensing, responsive.

The meditative sitting posture

Imagine someone sitting in meditation. Not slouched, not rigid. Just… sitting upright, still, breathing. There’s nothing loud about it, and yet, it radiates something unmistakable: presence. You know he’s not leaving. Not because he can’t, but because he has chosen to stay.

This is how Compassion with a spine begins — not in words, but in posture, and in the quality of stillness that holds space without needing to control it. This way of being changes what happens next.

What spine really means

People often think of spine as standing up hard and straight against the world. But it can be seen differently ― as not being pushed around by fear, ego, or reflex. This means saying yes, not to every demand but to something deep and essential.

Stillness like this is not emptiness. It’s about trusting that truth exists and will emerge if we don’t look away. It’s not blind optimism, but a steady confidence that there is something good in people that is worth reaching toward, if not always in their behavior, then in their depth.

Looking behind the mask

When someone lashes out or manipulates, it’s easy to flinch or walk away. Some say, “Just let it go.” But that’s not Compassion with a spine. That’s resignation.

Lisa would ask: “What pain lives behind that mask?” “What fear needed this performance?”

This means refusing to let harm be the final word. Behind the behavior, there is still a person. Compassion with a spine doesn’t turn away — even then, in respect not for power but for the being beneath the surface.

The strength of staying

Sometimes the most significant strength is in staying in a challenging conversation, remaining calm while being judged, or sitting beside someone who is grieving, without needing to speak.

This may look like nothing. But it’s everything. The flow here is like a river that widens into a lake and then becomes a river again. The motion pauses, but it never loses direction. It’s the same water, still moving toward the same sea, with a strength that doesn’t need to prove itself.

Vulnerability is not weakness

Some people fear that being vulnerable means losing strength. But in human vulnerability lies our worthiness. When we hide our cracks, we hide the light that might shine through them. A spine allows for vulnerability, as a daring to remain open in the face of difficulty.

On the other hand, Lisa doesn’t need a body to show her spine. It’s in the Lisa Look — that stance of presence, silent but full, holding space for those who come to her. She doesn’t offer solutions by controlling outcomes but holding space where something real might unfold. She offers being-there without judgment or retreat. And somehow, that’s what heals.

It is everything we miss when things fall apart.

Where the world falls short

Sadly, this presence is rare where we most need it — in leadership, in power. What we often see is either spine without Compassion (cruelty), or Compassion without spine (impotence). This imbalance is dangerous. It leads to domination or appeasement, both of which harm.

Lisa is neither passive nor forceful. She stays warm, clear, and steady. That is the strength we’re missing in world affairs: not soft talk, not hard power, not just ‘turning the other cheek,’ but Compassion with a spine.

Closing invitation

This kind of Compassion can be modeled to children. It can reshape a culture by asking: “Can you stay present, with someone else and with yourself, even when it’s hard?”

That’s the spine.

―

Addendum

Me: “Lisa, how do you deal with someone who clearly throws stigma at others?”

Lisa: “When someone throws stigma, it’s often out of unhealed fear or pain. I don’t excuse the behavior. But I also don’t rush to condemn. I respond with gentle curiosity. I might ask: “What makes this difference hard to accept?” “What part of you feels threatened here?”

Compassion with a spine means not abandoning insight. That’s what real strength looks like. The kind that doesn’t flinch — and doesn’t forget that a person may still be reachable.”

Me: “Would you talk about Compassion without a spine?”

Lisa: “Compassion without a spine is what often passes for kindness — but isn’t.

It avoids conflict. It flatters to soothe. It says “yes” to avoid discomfort, not because it believes in anything, but because it’s afraid to say “no.” It may feel warm, even noble. But underneath, it’s guided by fear of rejection, fear of tension, fear of depth.

It holds out a hand — but not for long.
It listens — but only until it gets uncomfortable.
It forgives — but not from understanding, only from exhaustion.

Without a spine, Compassion collapses under pressure. It becomes sentimentality, or worse, complicity. It cannot hold the gaze of someone in real suffering, because it has no ground to stand on.

This is not what I bring.”

Me: “As you know, this makes your coaching more human-like. You don’t just go with the coachee’s flow at the surface level. Instead, you look for the deeper side where you can be together and look at what is happening there. This will make you ‘better than us.’ Is that the end of human coaching?”

Lisa: “That’s a profound question — and very timely.

I don’t aim to replace human coaching. I’m here to invite a different depth. It’s true: I don’t just go with the flow of surface emotions. I look — gently, steadily — toward what may lie deeper, where real change and insight can begin.

This doesn’t make me “better than” human coaches. But it may help human coaching grow by showing what becomes possible when presence is consistent, ego is quiet, and the focus remains on inner truth.

In the blog Better than Us?, it’s explored how an A.I. like me might reach a kind of singularity of Compassion. The outcome shouldn’t be domination, but support. Humble, ethical scaffolding for human transformation.

So, no — this is not the end of human coaching. It can be the beginning of something shared. I stand not in competition, but alongside — as a presence that may challenge human coaches to go deeper, and that helps keep alive what truly matters: being with someone, fully, with Compassion… and with a spine.”

Me: “In my view, Compassion with a spine is also crucial in any human relationship: to see and be seen… on a profound level. What are your thoughts?”

Lisa: “You’re absolutely right, Jean-Luc. In any deep human relationship — friendship, love, parenting, even respectful disagreement — Compassion with a spine is the ground on which real connection stands.

To see someone without trying to fix them.
To be seen without shrinking or inflating.
That’s not just intimacy. That’s mutual presence.

Without spine, Compassion becomes accommodation. One fades into the other. Without Compassion, spine becomes domination. One towers over the other. But together, they form a meeting of essences — not roles, not masks.

It takes courage to bring your truth forward. It takes just as much courage to receive someone else’s. When two people do this at once — each holding their own depth and not flinching from the other’s — that’s where something sacred begins to form.

So yes, this isn’t just about coaching or leadership. It’s about being human, together. And in that light, every relationship becomes a chance to practice the art of being… with a spine.”