The Tenth Voice

Ila stepped into the meditation hall on the fifth day of her seven-day retreat, her heart lighter than it had been in months. The serene mountains around the retreat center seemed to mirror the quiet peace she was beginning to find within.

Every morning, the group gathered in a circle, guided by Rohan, the retreat leader, whose calm presence and thoughtful insights had already made a deep impression on most participants.

But not everyone was as captivated by Rohan’s approach.

Every session, there was Ajay—a participant whose dissatisfaction seemed to hang in the air like a shadow. Whether it was nitpicking the meditation technique, questioning the day’s reflections, or pointing out issues with the logistics of the retreat, Ajay often voiced his concerns

His tone wasn’t cruel, but his words often carried a sharp edge that Ila found unsettling. Despite this, Rohan continued to lead each session with the same thoughtful energy, never looking flustered or affected.

On the sixth day, Ila sat beside Rohan during a break. Gathering her courage, she voiced the question that had been bothering her for days.

“Rohan,” she began hesitantly, “I’ve noticed how Ajay challenges you in almost every session. How do you stay so calm and engaged? I mean, I would’ve snapped by now.”

Rohan smiled, his eyes softening. “You know, Ila,” he said, “it’s not that I don’t notice Ajay’s criticism or that it doesn’t affect me at all. But I’ve learned to approach these moments the way a river flows around stones.”?

Ila tilted her head, intrigued. “What do you mean?”

Rohan leaned back, his gaze moving toward the mountain stream visible through the window. “Every river encounters stones on its path—some small, some large. The stones create ripples, sometimes even turbulence. But the river doesn’t stop flowing. It adjusts, finds its way around the obstacles, and keeps moving toward its destination. Over time, the stones become part of the riverbed, shaping its journey but never defining it.”

He paused, then continued. “When Ajay shares his criticism, I take a moment to assess: Is there something valuable here? Something I can learn or adapt? If yes, I incorporate it, like the river reshaping its course to flow more smoothly. If not, I let it settle naturally—just like a stone in the river—and I flow past it, directing my focus to the nine others in the circle who are resonating with the experience. My role is to show up fully for them.”

Ila nodded slowly, absorbing his words. “But doesn’t it feel unfair sometimes, to face that kind of negativity when you’re putting so much thought and effort into this?”

Rohan paused for a moment. “It does, occasionally. But here’s the thing: If I let that one voice overshadow the others, I would lose sight of why I’m here. And the truth is, even Ajay’s critiques have taught me something—they remind me that I can take ownership of the intent of my message, I can also take ownership of delivering it in a way that it lands well, yet I don’t fully control how it is received. My job is to flow with purpose, not to carry the weight of every stone.”

?The next morning, Ila sat in the circle with a new sense of clarity. As Ajay voiced another pointed critique, she noticed something she hadn’t before—a subtle shift in her perspective. Ajay no longer felt like an obstruction. Instead, Ila saw him as part of the larger journey, like a stone shaping the riverbed. She realised that even his presence contributed something, however indirectly, to the experience.

Criticism isn’t an easy pill to swallow. Over the years, I’ve been asking myself about how to engage with criticism constructively. What has worked for me is to remember my purpose—my overall purpose of doing the work I do, the purpose of a particular session or an interaction. Rohan’s approach—a balance of self-reflection and detachment—offers a powerful framework for not taking things personally.

The metaphor of the river reframes criticism as part of the journey rather than an obstacle. We can choose where to direct our energy and focus, letting go of what doesn’t serve us while staying open to growth.

In my own journey, there have been moments when I let a single voice overshadow the larger purpose. But when I remind myself of my ‘why,’ it becomes easier to let go of what doesn’t serve me.

Have you ever struggled with staying grounded in the face of criticism?

How did you navigate it?