Letting Go of “Us vs. Them”
We’re living in unpredictable and frightening times, and when life feels that way, our minds jump into an us-versus-them mindset almost instantly. Have you noticed that in yourself? It becomes us against anyone who doesn’t agree with us, anyone who upsets us, anyone we see as a threat. And the moment that happens, something important falls away. We lose our ability to see their humanity. We lose any sense that they want the same basic things we want. And almost without noticing it, we lose our compassion for them.
What’s even more striking is that when we slip into this mindset, we don’t just lose compassion for “them.” We lose it for ourselves and even for the people we love. We think we’re directing our anger or fear at one group, but it doesn’t work that way. When those emotions take over, they take over everything. They shape our thoughts, our choices, our tone of voice, the way we move through the world. When we’re in that place, fear and darkness are calling the shots.
That’s one of the biggest problems with the us-versus-them mentality: it poisons us.
The second is that it makes genuine connection almost impossible. The moment we label someone as the enemy, we shut the door on even the smallest chance of softening a conflict or understanding where they’re coming from. We forget that every single person wants the same core things we do: to feel safe, to be healthy, to live without constant worry, and to be at peace.
In the class I recently taught, we worked with this directly through a modified version of the Buddhist Metta meditation, also known as the Loving-Kindness meditation. The responses were powerful, and many of you felt a meaningful shift.
Here is the exciting news! As we move into the festive season, I wanted to share this meditation with all of you, even if you weren’t able to be in the class. You’ll find the recording of this special meditation guidance at the end of this blog - a gift for you to return to whenever you need it.
The four wishes you’ll hear in the recording are simple:
May you live free of worry.
May you feel safe and be safe.
May you be healthy.
May you be at peace.
The meditation moves in three directions: toward yourself, toward someone you love, and toward someone you struggle with.
We started by sending these wishes to ourselves. Even a short moment of offering these gifts inward creates a noticeable shift. People began to feel softer, more grounded, more open. It reminded everyone that compassion for others becomes possible only when we reconnect with our own.
Then we sent the same wishes to someone we love. This is where people often notice how easily love gets tangled with worry. There’s a protective anxiety that creeps in, and it can feel heavy. Offering the wishes softens that anxiety so genuine care has room to come forward.
And then we moved to the hardest part: offering compassion to someone we struggle with. This is where resistance showed up, and it makes perfect sense. Many of us are afraid that sending kindness to someone who hurt us or scares us means we’ll lose something important. We fear losing our righteous anger, our sense of being right, our stories about what happened, even the intense feeling of power those emotions can give us. Some of us fear we’ll lose our grudges, our convictions, or the boundaries we fought hard to build.
Naming these fears opened some space.
Once we acknowledged what we were holding on to, the second round of meditation landed differently. People still didn’t suddenly “love” the person they were struggling with, but something loosened. The knot wasn’t as tight. There was more room in the body.
That space is the beginning of compassion.
And compassion isn’t about excusing harm. It’s not about saying what happened was fine or pretending everything is okay. Compassion is simply the wish that another human being not suffer. Even if we’re angry. Even if we disagree. Even if we never want to be in the same room with them again.
What surprised many people was this:
the person who benefits the most from offering compassion is you.
The moment you send those wishes, something brightens inside you. You reconnect with your own goodness, your own steadiness, your own love. The poison of fear and anger starts to thin. You’re able to feel compassion not just toward the difficult person, but toward yourself and the people you love. You feel lighter. More grounded. More open.
This practice doesn’t fix everything, but it changes the internal climate. It gives you a bit of space between you and the fear running the show. And with that space, you start to have choices again.
When you listen to the meditation, take your time. Let yourself feel what shifts in your body. You may be surprised by how much room appears once fear stops speaking for you.
It really is a game changer.
It’s a gift you give to yourself,
and it ripples outward to everyone you care about.