Burning Beneath

I visited a friend recently, and as often happens during these visits, our conversation drifted into world events. It struck me then—how out of touch I’ve become with the daily news. Not out of ignorance, but out of choice.

I realized I’ve developed a habit, maybe even a defense mechanism: I purposefully avoid watching, listening to, or reading the news. It didn’t start out as a conscious decision, but over time, it became one. A choice to protect my peace. A way to shield myself from the anxiety, the heartbreak, the helplessness that often comes from being constantly exposed to suffering and injustice—especially when you feel powerless to change it.

For years, I followed the news religiously. I stayed informed. I stayed vocal. But the more I watched, the more I realized that much of it felt like theater—an orchestrated spectacle designed to keep us distracted, divided, and disheartened. Despite all the coverage, all the outrage, all the global “awareness,” the horrors continued. The suffering didn’t stop. And after a while, I began to wonder: What’s the point of consuming all this pain when it never seems to lead to real change?

So I made a decision. I turned inward. I focused on the one thing I could control—my environment. My state of mind. My peace. I began eliminating the noise that threatened my balance. I stopped letting headlines dictate my emotional state. And in doing so, I found a kind of calm I hadn’t known in years.

But of course, the questions still linger.

Am I becoming numb? Am I turning my back on humanity? Is preserving my own peace a form of privilege? A form of silence?

One cause that has always shaken me to my core is the ongoing genocide of the Palestinian people. What’s happening in Gaza is not new, yet the magnitude of the cruelty—especially in recent months—has become undeniable. A whole identity, a whole people, are being erased before our eyes, and the world watches in silence or with hollow condemnation. It’s horrifying. It’s enraging. And it often feels like no matter how loud we shout, no matter how many protests fill the streets, the outcome remains unchanged.

I still speak up. I still try to use my voice, even if just a whisper in the wind. But I know now that I am only one person. A single drop in the vast ocean of humanity. That drop cannot stop a tide. But for me, that drop is everything. It’s my sanity. It’s my world. And if I let that drop dissolve into despair, then I lose myself too.

So I choose to protect it. To protect me. Not out of apathy, but out of necessity.

All I can do is stay grounded in peace, nurture goodness in my surroundings, and believe that the ripples of that peace will extend beyond me. That my small acts of kindness, my commitment to creating a gentle world around me, might somehow inspire the same in others.

Because maybe, just maybe, the world changes not through grand gestures alone—but through millions of quiet, steady acts of love