Skip to main content

Emotional Equilibrium Mastery

Managing, controlling, and understanding your own emotions, as well as being aware of the emotions of those around you, is what enables individuals to adapt and adjust their behaviour to suit their environment and guide their thinking towards a more beneficial outcome.

This outcome may relate to a difficult decision, work performance, interpersonal relationships, or even be a matter of self-care. You inevitably demonstrate how well you manage your emotions by showing your ability to relate well to others and foster cooperation.

For this to happen, it is necessary to learn how best to handle emotions and use them positively. Emotional responses arise from the things we pay attention to, but more importantly, they can be mediated by conscious thought.

Motivation, for example, is an emotion and, as such, fluctuates over time. Enthusiasm, on the other hand, is a cognitive state and can be actively triggered by willpower. When you feel unmotivated, it is not entirely impossible to regain your productivity by consciously seeking out what sparks your enthusiasm.

With this in mind, it is important to promote logical thinking and cognitive activity, which can redirect the emotional cascade along a different path. For emotions that cannot be easily overcome, it is crucial to accept them as they are and recognise the reason for their existence. Emotions are temporary, and difficult moments will inevitably pass — this is where patience proves to be a virtue.

It is also important to remember that many negative emotions can be attributed to irrational thoughts related to the past or future. Being aware of how emotions are affecting you in the present moment allows you to reason more effectively with yourself and the circumstances you find yourself in.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

On Loyalty and the Quiet Companionship of Pippen

I have a cosmopolitan friend who, by the mercy of chance — that discreet and impartial arbiter of destinies — was born in Serbia. Industrious beyond measure, he treats work not merely as obligation but as a quiet philosophy, a means of aligning oneself with the silent order of things. And he is a companion of a rare kind: steadfast, discerning, and, above all, loyal. His name is Pippen. We first crossed paths in the now-vanished days of Google+ — that fleeting agora where, for a moment, the world’s geeks entertained the gentle delusion that they might, in time, inherit the Earth. It was an age of bright aspiration, tinged with naïveté, yet marked by a peculiar fellowship that transcended all borders and conventions. Among Pippen’s many virtues, loyalty stands pre-eminent. Not the clamorous, performative loyalty so fashionable in this restless age, but the quieter, unwavering kind — the loyalty of one who stays. It is revealed not in grand gestures but in small, consistent a...

Subtle Daily Happiness

Happiness is a landscape hidden in the details. It does not arrive with trumpets, but in whispers: a ray of sunlight slipping through the window, the scent of morning coffee, the hush before a burst of laughter. We live in an age that mistakes happiness for grandeur, as if it depended on spectacular achievements or material possessions. Yet, its essence lies in the opposite—in the ability to notice what is already there, nearly invisible, yet full of meaning. There is an irony in this. While we chase ambitious goals—promotions, travels, recognition—we overlook what the philosopher Epicurus called “simple pleasures”: a conversation with a friend, the joy of an unhurried meal, the quiet sense of belonging when watching the sunset. Neuroscience reinforces this idea: small moments of connection or contemplation trigger neurotransmitters like serotonin and dopamine, responsible for our sense of well-being. Happiness, then, is not a destination, but a way of walking. Part of its subtlety l...

Ten Voices, One Silence

There were ten of them — though at times they spoke as one murmuring voice, and at others, like ten distinct silences, each fractured differently by the strain of being. They were not chosen as idols for a shelf, nor as exhibits in some canonical museum. Rather, they happened to me — each arriving, unbidden, during the long, luminous solitude of study. They were not so much read as endured, not so much admired as absorbed. What they gave me was not knowledge, but permission — to question, to unravel, to dwell within the unsayable. Sophocles carved fate into stone. He gave suffering a chorus and lent blindness a voice. In his tragedies, destiny is not an event but a law — impersonal, inescapable. His characters do not fall because they err, but because they exist. He was the architect of inevitability. Through him, I grasped that form can contain anguish without flinching. Dante Alighieri descended, and rose again. His Divine Comedy traced the arc of the soul with a pilgrim’...