The other day, I had a casual—but surprisingly deep—conversation with my teenage son about fairness, doing what’s right, and what it truly means to be kind. He shared a story from school that I thought was a good opportunity for us to learn from.

In his culinary class, he and a classmate had been partnered to prepare food together. My son showed up and participated in every session, while his partner missed most of them for unknown reasons. At the end of the session, each student received a portion of the food they helped make—my son got his, but his classmate didn’t, since she hadn’t been there to contribute.

At that moment, he noticed her looking at him—he couldn’t quite tell if it was expectant or judgmental—but he didn’t like how it felt. So, he chose not to share his food. Later, he asked me, “Was what I did right or wrong?”

That question opened the door to something reflection.

Every morning, I begin my day with metta, a form of meditation centered on compassion akin to prayer. Those familiar with me might be surprised by this practice, especially since I don’t subscribe to any religious doctrine. Yet, this practice is profoundly significant to me.

Mahatma Gandhi’s view of patience as "self-suffering" suggests that enduring discomfort is not merely passive but an active engagement in growth. This line of thinking aligns with a broader understanding across many traditions that suffering is not something to be avoided but an opportunity for transformation.