I Care Less: post-retreat reflections on equanimity.

I care less.

Since this year's summer silent meditation retreat - and after last year's too - I've come away with a sense of reduced entanglement with the world. In Buddhism it's called nibbida or disenchantment: the byproduct of experiencing more inner calm and joy, and the realisation that nothing external - not a career, not a relationship, not any lifestyle - can permanently provide what we long for: a sense of peace, freedom, fulfilment, wholeness.

It can be tough for a month or so after retreat. People and organisations might be used to your engaging in a certain way, displaying certain emotions, following certain social norms. It's remarkable how much social interaction relies on mutual validation and maintaining familiar patterns - which isn't necessarily a bad thing. Eventually a new equilibrium is reached - a warmth or kindness that's present without being effusive, without feeling responsible for filling gaps or fixing problems.

[View from the room at Satipanya retreat centre in Shropshire near Wales. It's the region where Darwin lived and had his insight into nature's evolution].

Does this mean I don't care?

My coach used to say: I care so much that I don't care.

In Buddhism, equanimity - a steadiness in the face of whatever arises - has a near enemy: cold indifference. It can fall into cynicism. But equanimity is cultivated alongside three other qualities - compassion, sympathetic joy, and goodwill or loving-kindness.

What can look like withdrawal or disinterest is actually a different way of relating: less driven by grasping, rescuing, or needing things to be a certain way. Disenchantment creates space for a warmer, steadier presence - one that can act to alleviate suffering in the world as well as enjoying the world's beauty - without being consumed by either. Neither falling into cynicism and disengagement nor hedonic oblivion and deluded optimism.

The near enemy of compassion is horrified anxiety, a state many of us experience watching the news. Balancing it with equanimity allows for the heart to tremble in heartbreak and the mind to discern what can be done or at least witnessed. Witnessing was a practice introduced to me while working with Medicines Sans Frontieres in South Sudan. Providing medical aid was not enough. Witnessing and speaking up, either publicly or privately, gave a voice to populations in danger. Even if we can't respond, having enough equanimity to bear witness and speak up, allows us to be a dignified voice for those who cannot.

I care less and so perhaps I engage more wisely - with access to deeper compassion and clarity. Not every problem requires my intervention. Not every emotion needs my response. Not every possibility needs to become a goal.

Just sitting with the world before acting is also enough.

With care,

Amina

P.S. If you or your team are navigating uncertainty, change, or conflict, I offer speaking and transformational coaching. Learn more here.