Ever seen a tightrope walker?
One careful step at a time, suspended above the ground, balancing with complete focus. Too much weight on one side and they fall. Too much on the other and they fall again. Their safety lies in constantly adjusting, constantly returning to centre.
The spiritual path, to me, feels exactly like that.
For a long time, I believed ego was arrogance. I thought it looked like entitlement, superiority, loudness and the need to dominate. But life — and the spiritual path — taught me something deeper:
Ego also hides in victimhood.
It hides in our whinging and whining, either because we’re unable to accept the circumstances we’re in or because we’re unable to take the action needed to make a change. Ego is abandoning ourselves; it’s that little voice in your head that tells you you’re not good enough or that you deserve the mistreatment. It hides in self-doubt and in the fear that keeps us silent when we should speak, tolerating disregard in the name of ‘being spiritual’, in shrinking ourselves so that others may feel comfortable.
One side of the rope whispers: “I am better than everyone.” The other whispers, “I am less than everyone.”
There have been many moments in my life where I have fallen off both sides of the rope; times when pain made me reactive, times when I disappeared into myself just to keep relationships intact and not ‘rock the boat’. In my writings over the years, I have shared the loneliness of feeling unseen and the exhaustion of people-pleasing and abandoning myself just to feel loved. And somewhere along the way, ding, ding, ding, I finally realised: self-abandonment is not spirituality.
Before one learns to still the mind, many of the thoughts that come at us often fall into either category. Both are ego. The line we must walk is somewhere in the middle. Not arrogance. Not self-erasure. Just Truth. This is where divinity lies.
For far too long, I thought silence was humility. I thought enduring hurt without speaking was compassion. But eventually the soul becomes tired of carrying truths the mouth refuses to speak. There comes a point on the path where remaining silent in the face of injustice no longer feels peaceful — it feels dishonest.
People who were comfortable with your silence may interpret your newfound honesty as anger, your boundaries as arrogance, your truth as rebellion. But perhaps this is part of spiritual growth for all of us, too – to realise that an honest voice and a calm, loving heart can exist together.
One of my guru Om Swami ji’s teachings that stayed with me deeply is that empathy and awareness do not mean becoming weak or endlessly self-sacrificing. There are times in life when firmness and standing up for oneself is an act of compassion in itself. Swami ji’s message could not have been clearer in His recent, beautifully powerful post: The Old Door.
Sometimes healing makes us softer, and sometimes it makes us clearer. Clarity changes the way we move through life; not because we love less, but because we finally begin to include ourselves in that love, too. I pray to Mother Goddess, and at times, I ask myself, if I could hear Her voice, what would my Mother, Niranjani Narayani, the one who loves me with a spotless heart, say to me? Would She want me to wallow in self-pity, or would She want me to be courageous? There is so much freedom in no longer pretending or carrying everything alone in silence, a divine tenderness in telling the truth without hatred, even if it’s uncomfortable.
Over the years, one thing that has helped me, especially when sharing my experiences, is to pause and ask myself:
“Is this coming from love, or from wounded ego?”
Balancing on the tightrope of life gives us the ability to see more clearly instead of reacting unconsciously from a place of pain. From the centre of the rope, I can see that my ego is reactive, but my soul is steady. I think that is exactly what the spiritual path asks of us. Neither repression nor revenge, just awareness. To take our pain and turn it into wisdom instead of bitterness. It means learning to stand up for ourselves without hatred, protecting our peace without closing our hearts, saying no without guilt, and remaining soft without becoming fragile.
And that line is, of course, delicate.
Some days, we lean too far into pride. Other days, we collapse into self-pity. But every moment gives us another chance to return to centre.
When you realise that love is not always silent, eventually, something beautiful begins to happen. You stop swinging wildly between extremes. You stop needing constant validation. You stop apologising for existing. You simply become more peaceful. Not because life becomes perfect, but because you stop abandoning yourself in order to be accepted. In my experience, love forgives, yes, but sometimes love walks away quietly, and sometimes love speaks up. Peace is not found in silence at any and all cost, nor is it found trying to prove yourself to the world. Peace comes from truth and the alignment of our thoughts, speech and actions. Swami ji spoke about this alignment in one of my very first meetings with Him at the ashram. I don’t think I fully understood what that meant then. I think I do now.
And maybe that is all spiritual growth really is: each time we wobble, learning to return to centre, again and again… yep, aaaand again, with a little more awareness, a little more courage, and a little more love each time.
Please look after yourselves and each other.
🧡