Skip to main content

Empathy

Empathy is often interpreted as the ability to put oneself in another’s place, but this simplistic definition does not capture its depth. Empathy is not merely feeling what another person feels; it is understanding their experience without becoming lost in it. This balance between connection and discernment is essential, particularly in professions that require rational decision-making without emotional burdens clouding judgement.

In acupuncture, for instance, the practitioner must attentively listen to the patient’s complaints, grasp emotional nuances, and understand their pain without absorbing it. An acupuncturist who is overwhelmed by a patient’s suffering may lose the clarity needed to determine the most appropriate treatment. Conversely, a lack of empathy results in a cold, mechanical approach, reducing the patient’s trust in the therapeutic process.

Neuroscience shows that empathy is not merely an emotional response but also a neurological function. The brain has specific circuits for recognising others' emotions, enabling an appropriate response to different contexts. However, regulating these impulses is crucial. Excessive empathy can lead to emotional fatigue and burnout, while its absence creates detachment and a lack of human connection.

In clinical practice, empathy must be structured. The practitioner listens, understands, analyses, and acts based on what is best for the patient, without being overwhelmed by the emotional impact of their pain. This approach ensures a balance between compassion and effectiveness.

True empathy is not merely an emotional reflex but a refined skill. It requires perception, control, and directed action. It is not about feeling for another but feeling with them, maintaining the objectivity necessary to make a real difference.


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

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...

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...

The Light of Goodness

Goodness does not move in secrecy, nor does it weave intricate plans to assert itself. It does not conspire because it does not need to. It does not manipulate, does not calculate, does not seek advantage. It simply exists — and in existing, it transforms. Goodness does not force, does not impose. It does not seek to convince through rhetoric or demand adherence. Instead, it inspires. It is found in the quiet dignity of an honest action, in the clarity of a decision made without expectation of return. It does not need recognition to be real. It moves without urgency, but its presence is undeniable. Yet goodness is not passive. It is not a surrender to complacency or an invitation to be trampled. It does not dissolve into abstraction or hesitate in the face of difficulty. Goodness has weight, presence, substance. It is an active force — a choice, deliberate and renewed, moment by moment. And because it does not conspire, goodness is freedom. It does not bind, does not confin...