What does it really mean to accept criticism? Is it even possible to emerge unscathed and illustrious? Does it matter how it is conveyed? Is it even fair to subject a work of art to criticism?
For those of us who exist in this world as introverts and for those of us who are ruthlessly introspective, life can sometimes get rough.
It's bad enough that we scrutinize ourselves intensely, it feels unfair to be bludgeoned by random strangers. Have you ever had a pointed insult dawdle in the recesses of your broken and badgered heart for decades together? If you answered yes, I can safely tell you – you are not alone. But there is a cure.
Recently I published my first book, ‘Banks of the Tamasa’, a passionate tale written with great intensity and fervor. I feel deep gratitude towards all of my readers who have taken the time to read and understand my work.
A few days back I met this person who seemed to have read it with great zeal and interest. However our conversation quickly turned sour. He asked me numerous questions, some pertinent, and several impertinent and annoying ones. After trying to remain calm and equanimous for a long time I noticed how I felt deep disgust and revulsion towards him. His mind felt like a microscope honing in on minor details befitting his small persona and his even smaller compassion. Recognizing the futility of such argument, I gave in and let him have the last word.
My bruised ego raved and rankled within my mind. I therefore took her with me to my meditation cushion. After a few minutes of practice - like cream that rises - my spirit surfaced unharmed and wholesome.
This book is about my innermost experience. Not a paragraph was written without inner scrutiny and validation. That which is true to one soul is true to all – I assume. Like all works of art this book too was created by a pining inner need to express and explore. This much I know is absolutely true.
Despite the severity of our conversation my critic had inspired me to do nothing differently. Making room for his insensitive remarks would be designating precious real estate within my heart that could be otherwise occupied by someone who is cheerful and authentic. Allowing him to stay was giving him power.
Therefore I wished him well and let him go! I ended my meditation with, “Dear God – please bless him and keep him away from me’.
Now my next book is receiving my attention. Once again it’s being built in my vision, with my words, my exclamations, my point of view and my own justifications. The question to be asked is, who's got power over you?
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