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

Research shows that parental warmth shapes our worldview — how might acupuncture offer a reparative experience in adulthood?

It is becoming increasingly clear that our worldview — whether we perceive life as welcoming or hostile — is shaped far more by the emotional bonds of early childhood than by material hardship or environmental risk. A recent study, published in Child Development , revealed that an adult’s sense of safety, beauty, and benevolence in the world is deeply rooted in the warmth received from parental figures — more so than in their exposure to poverty or danger. This finding resonated with me on a personal level. Time and again, I encounter patients in clinical practice who, despite being outwardly successful and high-functioning, carry an abiding sense that the world is cold, fragmented, even threatening. In acupuncture sessions, it is not uncommon to witness how such emotional imprints — stored not only in the mind, but also in the body — manifest as chronic anxiety, diffuse pain, insomnia, or emotional detachment. Through the lens of Chinese medicine, these states reflect imbalances...

A Pause Between Heartbeats

Time doesn’t tick. It breathes — unevenly, almost nervously. Sometimes it opens itself like a window you didn’t know was there. And inside that window, someone waits. Not with urgency, not with despair. Just a subtle weight: Will you come? Will you listen? You don’t need to prepare. You don’t need a speech. You only need to stop — to let the world stumble for a moment while you say, Yes, I’m here. That small pause, almost nothing, can be everything. Not everything in the dramatic sense. Everything in the sense of air when it was almost not enough. It’s not about how many minutes. Time has never obeyed clocks. What matters is the shift — leaving the room, the page, the self — to enter someone else’s trembling. Someone asks, not out loud but between words: Can you see me? And if you do — even for a beat — something sacred happens. Not salvation, no. Just a flicker of light that says, You are not alone. And that flicker, believe me, can change a day, a night, sometimes a life....

The Progressive Misreading of Silence

At 5, I entered rooms like a murmur. I was already listening for something behind the noise — something older than voices, softer than footsteps. “He’s such a well-behaved boy,” they said, smiling with relief. But what they mistook for virtue was only quiet intuition. I was not good. I was attuned. At 11, I had mastered the art of presence without weight. I could sit by the window for hours, watching the wind pass through the trees like thought through the body. “He’s quiet,” they would say — gently, but with a trace of discomfort. They couldn’t name the feeling of someone watching without need. At 17, I was called “mature.” But maturity is not a virtue — it is a scar. I had already seen the shape of endings before others saw beginnings. Friends came to me like tide to stone, hoping to be held. I held them, yes — but not always with words. Sometimes silence is the only honest offering. At 24, my stillness no longer charmed. The world asked for brightness, momentum, performa...

The Hyggelig Journey

Search This Blog