Tag: help

You’ve probably noticed it too. These days, it’s somehow become fashionable to have a spiritual vocabulary. Everywhere you turn, someone is talking about acceptance, forgiveness, healing, following your heart and of course, the reigning queen of all modern advice- mindfulness.

It’s on your feed, in your inbox, printed on eco-friendly notebooks. There’s always someone- young, radiant, vaguely enlightened-looking, sitting cross-legged, sipping a hazelnut latte or some cruelty-free kombucha, gently reminding the world to “just let go.” They say it like it’s the easiest thing in the world. As if letting go is as simple as unfollowing a brand you’ve outgrown.

And I don’t mean to sound unkind, really. It’s not their fault, not entirely. But I do wonder, often out loud, sometimes to myself, sometimes into a coffee mug– how do they know what they’re talking about?

What exactly are they letting go of? A delayed Amazon order?
A slightly off-season Maldives vacation? The emotional burden of their oat milk not frothing properly? Because when you scratch the surface and not even too deeply, you find that a lot of this wisdom is floating. Untethered. It hasn’t been earned in the tough phase. It’s been collected. Quoted. Brushed in sepia filters and posted in soft, breathy tones.

And that’s where it begins to itch a little. Not because they’re talking.But because they’re preaching.

How do they understand the ache of standing in a long, sweaty bus queue every morning, wondering if you’ll even make it to work on time, because the boss doesn’t care, but your child’s school fee is due next week?

How do they understand what it feels like to love writing, painting, acting, or music, but to shelve those passions each day just to earn a living? Because passion needs paint. And paint needs money. How do you talk about dreams when, for so many, survival is the only goal?

The truth is- they don’t know. And honestly, that’s okay.
Until they start preaching.

Because let’s be real, for some of these so-called “privileged preachers,” hardship looks like this-

The car AC isn’t cooling properly because, heavens, the humidity is above 60%. Their tailor didn’t get the exact shade of mint green they envisioned for their Maldives vacation kaftan.
They’re emotionally distressed because their favourite sushi place in London was fully booked on a Friday night. And then there’s the full-blown existential crisis because their connecting flight got delayed and they nearly missed their spa-like Ayurvedic retreat in Sri Lanka, the one meant to ‘cleanse’ and ‘heal’ them from the trauma of…well, air travel, apparently.

Yet here they are- broadcasting advice about resilience. Forgive- they say. Surrender. Move on. All while sipping ginger turmeric shots and talking about ‘holding space’ from the comfort of plush rugs and ergonomic bean bags.

But real people, millions of them, carry bruises that don’t heal with affirmations. Real people live with heartbreak, rejection, betrayal, unspoken sacrifices and invisible weights. They don’t get the luxury of pausing life to heal. They have to carry on, because someone has to pay the bills, run the house or hold the family together.

So when someone tells you they’re sad, broken, grieving, angry, confused-
Don’t offer a quote from your sun-kissed yoga retreat.
Don’t silence them with a polished monologue.
Don’t condemn their feelings as if they’re an inconvenience to your curated calm.

Let them be. Let them feel. Let them rage. Let them ache. Let them curl up in bed. Because healing doesn’t start with advice.
It starts with being heard.

So here’s a humble request-If you haven’t walked through the fire, maybe don’t try to write the survival manual. Or at the very least- speak with humility. Be a listener, not a lecturer. Be a witness, not a performance. Be human, not a hashtag.

Because empathy isn’t spoken. It’s lived…~Latika Teotia