The Dangers of a Sensitive Heart and How to Overcome It

Some possess intellect no greater than their peers, yet delight in mockery of others. When confronted with virtue, they refrain from praise; discovering flaws, they race to ridicule.

Such characters, so long as they may trample others, seize each chance to do so, thus gaining a sense of verbal conquest and selfish satisfaction. They care not for others’ feelings, deeming their own joy the world’s joy. Expect no epiphany through self-reflection from them. Introspection lies not in their nature, only self-righteousness and delusions of wisdom.

In lavish halls and dusty alleys alike you’ll find these souls, proving human wickedness stems not from status but the contents of one’s heart.

Yet even truly inept or misguided folk warrant no derision. For in comparison, all are lacking. Judged across a lifetime, none escape error now and then. None then deserve the right to sneer at others. To claim such privilege is to admit one’s own dark side.

The truly wise tend towards modesty, as all great people share this trait. None are dismissed as beneath them, and self-perception remains measured, not grandiose. They comprehend deeply that human dignity manifests as kindness, compassion, and an egalitarian ethos towards all living beings.

The family sits leisurely, friendly lamps aglow. Wang Zengqi evoked an ordinary person’s idyllic vision.

Abundant riches, soaring steeds – let go of such lavish dreams. How peaceful and unencumbered is a modest, unassuming life. Here the human soul inhabits an earthly paradise, safe and content.

True happiness stems from inner peace, while thrills come from satisfying desire. Sometimes we mistake the latter for the former, as excitement fades quickly, but tranquility persists, for years, decades, or a lifetime. Beautiful things settle softly into the heart, becoming an unwavering solidity amidst life’s turbulence, a sense of fulfillment that trusts in tomorrow.

Only with age do we comprehend our deepest needs. Though I once grasped at satisfaction and joy, these vanished like mist, nothing remaining.

Joy, you see, means attaining an unshakable peace within. As we age, its form evolves – worldly success and status give way to our loved ones’ prosperity. For us now, utmost comfort is best – no winds, rains, troubles or illness.

With all stilled, only the sun’s warm glow remains, bathing the world. Everything appears gentler, the way we look upon others.

A sensitive soul risks living chaotically.

Suspicion and overthinking plague such hearts. Suspicion conjures nonexistent troubles; overthinking complicates the simple. The former imposes fantasy, the latter reshapes others to our expectations. Every outcome is interpreted negatively.

None then meet our standards, purity found nowhere.

The costs are clear – failure first, friends flee next. Understandable, as suspicion erodes sincerity, overthinking undermines commitment. We cannot show true warmth, or honor our duties. Things unravel.

None seek out an ersatz companion or collaborator. This becomes our trap, too.

Cultivating insensitivity helps greatly. As Zheng Banqiao said, “rarely confused.” Confused no more by others’ flaws, we accept imperfections, understand intentions may not match efforts, tolerate differences.

Stepping back reveals overlooked merits. Former irritants prove tolerable, and we inspect with open minds.

Sensitivity risks fragile idealism. Feeling constantly slighted or hurt is no way to live. Others will reciprocate. Abnormality itself disturbs the normal.

The sensitive shrink life’s scope. In narrow confines, the world warps easily. Why not release others, and yourself, so all can be innocent, all relaxed? Life becomes meaningful when we and others simply exist meaningfully.