What makes a person “shallow?” What makes a person “deep?” Is it the experiences they’ve had, the life they’ve lived, or the suffering they have weathered? Can we measure someone’s wisdom through judging their emotional or intellectual intelligence, or is the depth to someone’s mind and spirit completely unmeasurable?
There are countless ways in which one could define “depth,” whether that be emotional intelligence, social awareness, one’s ability to connect with others, the degree of introspection about our own experiences, and much more. Perhaps one’s depth equates to a combination of these things. I think it can be closely compared to wisdom. Nevertheless, while some find this hard-to-define quality irrelevant in their friendships and connections, others tend to base their biggest judgements about people on how much depth they seem to have.
Recently, I have observed that many people interpret shallowness (superficial thinking, emotional detachment, or lack of depth) as a characteristic of those who have experienced little or no suffering in their lives. On the surface, there are many logical reasons for this belief. For one, suffering often forces people to confront difficult emotions, develop resilience, and reflect on their beliefs, resulting in increased maturity and insightfulness. Similarly, personal suffering may increase peoples’ abilities to feel greater empathy for others’ pain.
Even though equating one’s suffering to their wisdom makes intuitive sense, it is a fallacy. While I do believe that suffering can lead people toward great understanding and compassion, I do not believe it is a prerequisite for emotional or intellectual profundity.
I am someone who cares deeply about introspection, and I have a difficult time maintaining friendships that lack depth. Yet somehow, I have had just as many close friends who have experienced little to no hardship as I have had friends that have suffered significantly throughout their lives. Similarly, when I think of all of the wisest people I have encountered in my life, their experiences all differ greatly from one another.
So what is the one thing that they have in common? They care about the suffering of others. They experience compassion without comparison, and they strive to live in a world in which nobody suffers.
In my opinion, that is what gives someone depth; it doesn’t come from having specific experiences, but rather exists as a willingness and desire to understand the experiences and suffering of others and have compassion for them, whether or not they can directly relate or not.
I do not believe that a lack of suffering equates to shallowness. I believe that shallowness means being entirely self-involved or self-absorbed, which can be held by sufferers and non-sufferers alike. Whether that perspective be “woe is me; I have it the worst” or “my life is great and nothing else matters,” it is still shallow either way. In both cases, there is an inability—or an unwillingness—to consider the suffering of others.
The Buddha began his life as Siddhartha Gautama, a sheltered prince, shielded him from all forms of suffering such as old age, sickness, death, and poverty. As a young man, Siddhartha eventually left his palace and witnessed suffering firsthand, which dramatically shifted his understanding of life. Having no prior comprehension of the nature of suffering, these encounters sparked a deep existential crisis and ultimately a compassionate desire to find a solution to human suffering. This began with him renouncing his royal life and led to him undertaking a spiritual quest toward enlightenment.
I want to emphasize the powerful effect of the immediate compassion the Buddha felt for all those who suffered without having previously suffered himself. This led him down that path in the first place. At the start of his journey, the Buddha was a man who could have been labeled “shallow” as he did not truly know what it was like to feel such immense pain. Nonetheless, upon facing the realities of suffering for the first time, he felt deep compassion and empathy. As a result, he chose to face it rather than run away from it.
The Buddha did encounter “essential” suffering on his journey toward enlightenment. He lived through the new extreme of deprivation, and came to see that the Middle Way avoids asceticism as well as overindulgence. So suffering is both helpful and necessary—but with nuance. In Buddhism, suffering is the starting point because it reveals the truth of existence. And the truth is, we all suffer, and thus we are all capable of feeling empathy and compassion. The Buddha’s path toward enlightenment was not about suffering alone, but also recognizing, understanding, and striving to put an end to the suffering of all beings.
Without comparing or overidentifying with our suffering, no matter how “big” or “small” it may be, we must be willing to recognize suffering as universal and not unique to oneself. The Buddha didn’t become enlightened solely because he suffered, but because he strived to understand the suffering of all beings and cultivated wisdom and compassion in response to it.
There are countless forms of suffering in the world that I have never personally experienced and likely never will. Nevertheless, I care deeply for all those who suffer, even if I cannot directly relate to them.
While we can perhaps better empathize with specific experiences by exchanging self with Other, as Shantideva advocated, I am already striving to navigate this world with the intention to decrease suffering not just for myself, but for everyone. That is already enough.
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