Edited by Jim McCrory, Wednesday, 18 Dec 2024, 09:37
“Silence is true wisdom’s best reply.” — Euripides
Image generated with the assistance of Microsoft Copilot
There
is a quiet beauty in Shaanti. The word itself rolls off the tongue like
a whisper, embodying the very peace it signifies. But Shaanti is more
than a word. It is a state of being a sanctuary we create within
ourselves—especially in a world that seems intent on disturbing it. As an
empath, I’ve come to see Shaanti not just as a desire but as a
necessity, a lifeline that allows me to navigate a world full of noise,
criticism, and negativity.
Empaths
feel deeply. We sense tension like electricity in the air, absorb the pain of
others as though it were our own, and often find ourselves standing at the
crossroads of chaos and calm. It is tempting to be swept into the currents of
other people’s storms, but I have learned, sometimes painfully, that not every
battle is mine to fight. Not every critical word deserves my energy, and not
every misunderstanding demands my defence.
For
much of my life, I thought it was my responsibility to explain myself, to
clarify my intentions, and to prove my worth to those who misjudged me. I would
wrestle with their negativity, hoping to reshape it into understanding. But
over time, I realized this was an endless, exhausting endeavor. The truth is,
some people see only what they wish to see, filtered through their own biases
and insecurities. Their judgment says more about them than it ever does about
me.
Letting
go of the need to justify myself was one of the most liberating decisions I’ve
made. It wasn’t easy. Walking away from a misunderstanding feels
counterintuitive, like leaving a wound untreated. But I’ve come to understand
that not every wound needs my tending. There is no point in pouring my heart
into convincing someone who has already decided who I am. My energy is better
spent elsewhere—on those who meet me with kindness, on pursuits that nurture my
spirit, and on the quiet cultivation of Shaanti within.
I’ve
also learned the importance of boundaries. Toxic people, with their relentless
criticism and self-serving agendas, can drain the most vibrant soul. As an
empath, I’m particularly susceptible to their influence, often feeling their
negativity as acutely as a physical weight. For years, I tolerated such
relationships out of a misplaced sense of duty, convincing myself that
understanding their pain meant excusing their behaviour. But I’ve come to see
that protecting my peace doesn’t make me unkind; it makes me wise. Setting
boundaries isn’t about shutting people out; it’s about creating space for the
right people to come in.
Still,
choosing Shaanti isn’t without its challenges. There are moments when I
feel the sting of being misunderstood, of being labelled distant or aloof
simply because I refuse to engage in conflict. Some interpret my quiet retreat
as weakness, as though my choice to walk away from unnecessary drama reflects a
lack of courage. But I know better. It takes immense strength to choose peace
when anger beckons, to remain still when provoked, and to let go of battles
that serve no purpose.
There
is a profound power in silence. It is not the silence of defeat but of
resilience, of knowing when words would only feed the flames. In that silence,
I find Shaanti. I find myself.
Nature
often reminds me of this truth. On early morning walks by the beach, I watch as
the waves meet the shore—a gentle rhythm, undeterred by the chaos of the wind.
The sea doesn’t argue with the storm; it doesn’t seek to justify its existence.
It simply is, constant and enduring. In those moments, I feel a kinship with
the water, a reminder that I, too, can remain steady amidst turbulence.
Shaanti is not about avoiding conflict at
all costs; it’s about choosing where to place my energy. It’s about recognizing
that my peace is precious and that not everyone deserves access to it. It’s
about knowing that my worth isn’t diminished by someone else’s misunderstanding
and that walking away doesn’t mean I’m weak—it means I’m free.
So
I will continue to seek Shaanti in my own quiet way, stepping back when
the noise becomes too loud, holding fast to the peace that I’ve cultivated
within. I will embrace the misunderstandings, knowing that they do not define
me, and I will let go of the need to prove myself to those who cannot see me as
I am.
In
the end, Shaanti is not something the world gives us. It is something we
create, moment by moment, choice by choice. And for those of us who feel
deeply, who see the world through the lens of empathy, it is our gift to
ourselves—a gentle, unshakable place where we can simply be.
In Pursuit of Shaanti
“Silence is true wisdom’s best reply.” — Euripides
Image generated with the assistance of Microsoft Copilot
There is a quiet beauty in Shaanti. The word itself rolls off the tongue like a whisper, embodying the very peace it signifies. But Shaanti is more than a word. It is a state of being a sanctuary we create within ourselves—especially in a world that seems intent on disturbing it. As an empath, I’ve come to see Shaanti not just as a desire but as a necessity, a lifeline that allows me to navigate a world full of noise, criticism, and negativity.
Empaths feel deeply. We sense tension like electricity in the air, absorb the pain of others as though it were our own, and often find ourselves standing at the crossroads of chaos and calm. It is tempting to be swept into the currents of other people’s storms, but I have learned, sometimes painfully, that not every battle is mine to fight. Not every critical word deserves my energy, and not every misunderstanding demands my defence.
For much of my life, I thought it was my responsibility to explain myself, to clarify my intentions, and to prove my worth to those who misjudged me. I would wrestle with their negativity, hoping to reshape it into understanding. But over time, I realized this was an endless, exhausting endeavor. The truth is, some people see only what they wish to see, filtered through their own biases and insecurities. Their judgment says more about them than it ever does about me.
Letting go of the need to justify myself was one of the most liberating decisions I’ve made. It wasn’t easy. Walking away from a misunderstanding feels counterintuitive, like leaving a wound untreated. But I’ve come to understand that not every wound needs my tending. There is no point in pouring my heart into convincing someone who has already decided who I am. My energy is better spent elsewhere—on those who meet me with kindness, on pursuits that nurture my spirit, and on the quiet cultivation of Shaanti within.
I’ve also learned the importance of boundaries. Toxic people, with their relentless criticism and self-serving agendas, can drain the most vibrant soul. As an empath, I’m particularly susceptible to their influence, often feeling their negativity as acutely as a physical weight. For years, I tolerated such relationships out of a misplaced sense of duty, convincing myself that understanding their pain meant excusing their behaviour. But I’ve come to see that protecting my peace doesn’t make me unkind; it makes me wise. Setting boundaries isn’t about shutting people out; it’s about creating space for the right people to come in.
Still, choosing Shaanti isn’t without its challenges. There are moments when I feel the sting of being misunderstood, of being labelled distant or aloof simply because I refuse to engage in conflict. Some interpret my quiet retreat as weakness, as though my choice to walk away from unnecessary drama reflects a lack of courage. But I know better. It takes immense strength to choose peace when anger beckons, to remain still when provoked, and to let go of battles that serve no purpose.
There is a profound power in silence. It is not the silence of defeat but of resilience, of knowing when words would only feed the flames. In that silence, I find Shaanti. I find myself.
Nature often reminds me of this truth. On early morning walks by the beach, I watch as the waves meet the shore—a gentle rhythm, undeterred by the chaos of the wind. The sea doesn’t argue with the storm; it doesn’t seek to justify its existence. It simply is, constant and enduring. In those moments, I feel a kinship with the water, a reminder that I, too, can remain steady amidst turbulence.
Shaanti is not about avoiding conflict at all costs; it’s about choosing where to place my energy. It’s about recognizing that my peace is precious and that not everyone deserves access to it. It’s about knowing that my worth isn’t diminished by someone else’s misunderstanding and that walking away doesn’t mean I’m weak—it means I’m free.
So I will continue to seek Shaanti in my own quiet way, stepping back when the noise becomes too loud, holding fast to the peace that I’ve cultivated within. I will embrace the misunderstandings, knowing that they do not define me, and I will let go of the need to prove myself to those who cannot see me as I am.
In the end, Shaanti is not something the world gives us. It is something we create, moment by moment, choice by choice. And for those of us who feel deeply, who see the world through the lens of empathy, it is our gift to ourselves—a gentle, unshakable place where we can simply be.