

This month, I have been sitting with a word that feels both ancient and quietly powerful: mudita. Mudita is a Sanskrit and Pali word that translates to “empathetic joy”.
It evokes the ability to feel genuine happiness for the joy, success, or good fortune of another. Not as a social obligation; not as a polite response; instead, a deep, warm, unforced joy that rises within you when something beautiful happens to someone else.
I didn’t arrive at this concept through a ritual calendar or a spiritual checklist. I arrived at it through a feeling. It shows up in ordinary moments. In conversations where a friend tells you about their long-awaited job promotion or their summer plans in Mykonos.
If we pause long enough, we may notice there is a surprising swell of happiness, a quiet warmth, and a sense of joy that feels surprisingly expansive. That feeling is mudita. What makes mudita so profound is that it asks us to step beyond comparison. In a world that subtly trains us to measure our lives against those around us, feeling joy for someone else’s blessings can feel almost radical.
And yet, when we allow it, we often realise something unexpected: another person’s happiness does not take anything away from us. In fact, it can do the opposite. When we feel joy for someone else, we are reminded that joy is not a limited resource. It does not need to be guarded or competed for.
It circulates. It expands. Their good news becomes a reminder that good things are possible for them, for us, for all of us. In Buddhist philosophy, mudita is one of the four Brahmaviharas—the sublime states of being, alongside loving-kindness, compassion, and equanimity.
It is considered a heart practice, one that is less about effort and more about awareness. This feels especially relevant in the times we are living in. The world often feels divided by conflict, fear, and a persistent sense of “us and them”. Mudita offers a quieter perspective.
It reminds us that beneath the noise, we are deeply interconnected. That the joy of one life is not separate from another. That, at a fundamental level, everything and everyone is one. Practising mudita does not require grand gestures or spiritual expertise.
It can begin with a pause. A conscious softening. When something good happens, anywhere and to anyone, can we allow ourselves to feel glad? Not out of obligation, but out of recognition.
When experiencing joy, we begin to feel gratitude not only for our own blessings, but for the blessings of those we love and even those we may never meet. A stranger’s success. A child’s laughter across a park. A couple is celebrating their anniversary at a nearby restaurant.
These moments become opportunities to expand the heart. Over time, this simple practice changes the state of our inner world. The heart becomes less tight, less guarded. Our gratitude expands for the quiet, unfolding goodness around us.
The beautiful paradox is this: the more we feel joy for others, the lighter we feel ourselves. Mudita reminds us that joy is not something we wait for. It is something we can participate in. Every time we genuinely celebrate another, we widen our own capacity for happiness and quietly affirm a truth the world often forgets: joy is shared, not scarce.