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Let’s face it, the news is depressing, full of dread, scandal and tragedy. Conflict and corruption grab headlines far more easily than compassion and cooperation. It’s easy to get demoralised.

I’ve had the privilege of meeting several thousand people over more than twenty years of facilitating workshops and it continually blows me away how normal it is, yet again, to have another great group of people turn up for training.

Of course there’s been the occasional disgruntled person or group that’s frying around the edges with burnout. But it’s remarkably, consistently rare. Our communities are rich with so many good people that don’t make the news – quiet stories of courage and kindness, commitment and advocacy.

It’s important that we don’t sentimentalise this good nature, leading to token acknowledgment at best and outright exploitation at worst. I’m convinced that thirty percent of community services are funded by people’s compassion. People who care for others deserve fair pay and adequate resources.

And the reality is some of these good people have not so great moments in practice. I sure do. There is no such thing as the perfect conversation. And humans get frustrated, make assumptions, have blindspots and lose focus.

But we also need to celebrate just how many people turn up over and over to look after others, whether in their job, their local community or in the global community. It’s pretty cool when you think about it.

Every profession has injuries of overuse – the better you get at something, the more you do it, the more likely there will be wear and tear. Just ask a carpet layer about their knees.

Supporting and advocating for others is serious work. The themes are often heavy, stories are frequently tragic and the suffering can be immense. We also need to be quite considered, to consciously respond rather than automatically react.

And that seriousness can take its toll. So we need counter actions. Things we do that deliberately create a healthy opposite to even out imbalances. Including seriousness. Especially seriousness.

We need to protect a sense of spontaneity and play in work hours and in our lives in general. It may even involve a slight bending of rules, a smudging of the professional veneer.

I’m not talking about shortchanging clients or embezzlement, breaching organisational policy or legislation, being rude or unprofessional. Our actions need to be aligned with our core values and be defensible – responsible in the broader sense. But our actions can also inspire a feeling of mischief or glee in the moment that lightens the heart, makes us smile or laugh. And at its best it’s contagious, deepening our connection with our peers and the people we support.

We often hear time is our most precious resource, it’s the only thing we can’t replace or get back. And I often get asked in workshops how we can fit person-centred practices like Motivational Interviewing into already busy appointments. It feels like there just isn’t time to add anything more.

It can be helpful to think of attention as being as valuable, if not more valuable, a resource than time. What we point our attention at is what we experience. We don’t experience what we do not pay attention to, even if it’s right there in front of us.

When we seek support, we want someone to give us their full attention. And yet as Buddhist nun Pema Chödrön observed (and I’m probably paraphrasing here), “one of the hardest places to remain truly present is in the middle of a conversation, because we are activated by everything”.

When we are supporting someone else, what are we attending to at any given moment? If we can train ourselves to stay focused on the person – their experience, where they are at, what they need – there is a very good chance we will use whatever time we have better.

There will always be times when you’re not sure what you have to offer – the work is complex, your resources are low, or you just feel plain old stuck.

It helps to know your strengths, what you are able to do well, even at 70% of your best performance or less. Yet these are often the very things we most take for granted or feel the most invisible when we’re focused on what else we think we should be doing or where we need to go next.

Perhaps it is your capacity to listen deeply, offer a safe space, or just be a genuinely kind and caring person.

“I’m just listening” might become “I’m really listening”. The safety you create offers a place for someone to experience what it feels like to let their guard down a little. Your acceptance of the other person for who they are provides a concrete example for how they might accept themselves.

And in that moment you might both be able to feel less pressured, catch your breath and create room for the next step forward to emerge.

Some days I feel like I know nothing. It can come with a quiet urge to give up or step away. And it’s always worth reflecting on what I might want or need to work on.

But equally, it’s worth reflecting on what I have learned since yesterday, to make me feel like I know nothing today.

Perhaps the feeling of knowing nothing comes from an expanded perspective, a deeper awareness or a fresh insight. Perhaps it’s a blind spot coming into light where it can be examined more closely.

Or perhaps it’s a reminder to hold what I do believe I know more lightly, with more curiosity and less certainty.

There is nothing quite like seeing people achieve a significant breakthrough. Perhaps they secured affordable housing, recovered from life-threatening illness or addiction, fell in love or graduated from high school after dropping out many times.

Whether these transformative achievements are common or rare, we don’t want to miss the opportunity to mark the enormity of what has just occurred with a ritual or celebration. Life has enough tough times, let’s make the most of the great ones.

But we also need to make time to celebrate the smaller wins – the step forward, the fear faced, the shared tenderness. While the big successes offer highlights, these quieter moments provide the texture, the day to day richness that makes the work sustainable.

And seen up close, when we give these moments our full attention, they are grand indeed. They are stories of love and courage and faith. They are the epic tales in short poetic form.

I’ve met a lot of people who express a desire to help others but feel disheartened by a lack of qualifications. They might talk about wanting to be a psychologist but don’t have the time or resources to complete the intensive training. There’s a question of legitimacy, an implication that some ways of helping are ranked as more valuable than others.

Professions fuel this perception when they advocate for their version of helping over those of other professions. At its worst, it becomes a form of rivalry with competition for status or resources. Or both, since they often come together.

And yet there are so many ways to be helpful. The team of people who made your chair. The hairdresser who listened and gave you a great haircut. The engineers who designed that bridge you drive over and the construction workers who built it The person who stopped to help you pick up something you dropped when your hands were full or gave you a friendly smile as you passed by on the street.

So by all means, follow your dreams to seek new paths. But remember not to underestimate what you have to offer now, in the life you currently live. It’s not so much what you do that is helpful, it’s more how you do it – being present, coming from a place of kindness or generosity, and acting with integrity.

The art of helping others is a process of self discovery. We sometimes start with ideals we want to live up to or mentors we want to emulate. Our sense of what is good lies outside of us. And these sources can absolutely act as inspiration or clarification on what we’re shooting for.

But we’re not a profession, we’re not our mentor. Our aim is to discover who we are, to maximise our strengths and learn to soften our weaknesses so that we can be present for the person in front of us.

This is often framed as “being our best self”. And it sounds appealing, we get to be a version of ourselves that we can like and feel proud of. It also sounds like a bit of pressure, a subtle need to constantly perform. It doesn’t leave much room for the messiness of real life. There is a sense of striving, a reaching up, reaching out.

When we aim to be our true self, we reach within. There is more room for acceptance, curiosity and grace. It’s not a performance but a state of authenticity where there is room for the natural ebbs and flows of energy and focus. While acquiring skills and strategies is still important, there is as much to be gained from shedding the beliefs and doubts that hold us back.

Whether you’re here for a familiar voice or stumbled in, perhaps looking for another door entirely, welcome.

We might use different language. Perhaps you turn up to be helpful, or useful, to others. Or to support or care. Or facilitate, coach, lead, mentor or just somehow make a difference.

We might be from different professions. Perhaps you have studied to be doing what you do. Or learned on the job. Or from life. Or, very likely, a combination of all three.

We might be doing different things. Maybe you work in a role dedicated to supporting people going through tough times or experiencing an opportunity to grow. Or perhaps, whatever you do, you just want to do it with kindness and consideration.

Turning up to support others is to enter a relationship. And like any relationship we need to give attention to what’s going on in our half – the good, the bad, and the “wow, OK, I didn’t expect that”.

These short blogs offer a chance to take a breath, slow down and reflect. Some may resonate, some may not. Even that can be interesting. Perhaps a blog that underwhelms today may be relevant at another time. Or one that feels valuable today will be outgrown tomorrow.

I hope you enjoy this contribution to our community of people who care about people. And I trust you’ll take from this what you find helpful and leave anything that isn’t.