When I was a kid there was no internet. Your circle of "connections," or friends, was small — the people you could meet in person.

So sometimes you did something cool, like hit a home run in softball, and you were lifted on shoulders. Then you did something embarrassing, like drop an easy catch, and you were teased. But in the end, it was only the people who were there with you who knew. There wasn't some kid on the other side of the country pointing a finger at me, because there was no way for him to know.

So the amount of opinion didn't swing too far in either direction.

Now, with social media, that's changed. The pendulum of public opinion is much heavier and swings much further in each direction. You get caught in a bad moment on someone's smartphone, and you can be teased and belittled by people halfway around the world — unfortunately, a lot of them.

And it's not just the distance of the social opinion pendulum that affects us. It's also the velocity. It's a simple law of physics that applies also to human nature.

Because if it weighs more, it swings faster. The faster it swings, the harder it is for us to balance ourselves.

To find our baseline, our center. Without that center, we will struggle with knowing the core identity of who we really are.

It's the human experience to be subject, at times, to criticism, judgment, disagreement, and we need breathing room to process difficult things. We need time and separation from those who are coming at us. But when that breathing room is taken away at the speed of the internet, the reaction can be unjustly harsh and unrelenting.

Therefore, now more than ever, we need to know who we are and how identity is far deeper and stronger than the opinions of others.

We don't have to feel uprooted or completely shaken when someone doesn't agree with us, says bad things about us, or ignores us. We can still feel confident and at peace with who we are and what we stand for, even in the blazing fire of accusations, false labels, and negativity.

This is why I found so much value, and even transformation, in the Bhagavad Gita — an ancient conversation between Krishna and Arjuna in old India, known as Bharat.

Arjuna is a superhero amongst superheroes, an extraordinary warrior. But he's afflicted and petrified. He has to fight a war he absolutely doesn't want to fight. He was born to fight — the best warrior from a great line of warriors. Yet at the Battle of Kurukshetra, he wanted to do anything but that.

So Krishna reminds him of who he is and what he must do.

So what's the secret? How do we get from being unraveled and disturbed at the mercy of others' views of us, to secure, grounded, and clear in our path, even if the entire world tells us to go the other way?

Now, if you know me, you know that I know little to nothing about gardening. Being a man of the land was never my forte. But I do know a simple fact.

Great trees are planted in good soil. Great trees are incredibly difficult to bring down. Storms come, but they stay standing. Under the scorching sun, they stay standing. In the frigid winters, they stay standing.

"A small tree with strong roots will outlive a big tree with weak ones." — Matshona Dhliwayo

And not only standing — under all circumstances, they continue to offer home, shelter, and community to all kinds of living beings.

But if those seeds are planted in poor soil, there is only difficulty and chaos for that poor tree. You never know when it will be uprooted.

Krishna inspires Arjuna to become a good tree — to not get caught up in the storm of attachments that don't serve his ultimate well-being, that chip away at his foundation. Desires that are like Trojan horses: they appear amazing in the beginning, only to destroy all the good you are and have done in the world in the end.

So what is good soil in our life? What is bad soil? Are you saying we are trees, and if we don't have a good foundation, we're doomed? Is change possible?

Yes. We're not trees. We are given the amazing gift of intelligence and are entirely capable of change, even transformation. It's a special power humans possess but often forget, or worse, misuse.

I remember when I was in elementary school. Honestly, it wasn't that great a school, but I managed it the best I could. One day we got a new student. He was from a South American country, like Peru or Bolivia. Very nice guy. Quiet, to himself. Tall, with a really pleasant demeanor. I liked him right away, as did others.

Naturally, he felt a bit out of place not knowing English too well yet, and he really wanted to fit in. In a matter of about a couple of months, he went from good kid to bad kid. He was wearing leather, an earring on one ear, acting tough in front of others. All his pleasant and easygoing demeanor, gone.

One time I was playing with other friends and mistakenly hit him on the lip with my hand. Even though I apologized a lot, he lifted his leg and shoved me away with it. I was so heartbroken to see what happened to him. I stayed away from him for the rest of my school days, so I don't know what happened to him.

But the experience taught me that not forging a clear identity, even if we've been exposed to good culture, can leave us vulnerable to bad influences and bad decisions. It can change us for the worse.

So transformation can go both ways. We always need to be conscious of that.

So how do we figure out who we are and protect it? How can we feel totally in tune with ourselves? How do we find our true dharma, our most authentic way of being in this world?

Good Soil

Let's start with good soil. In our lives, good soil is a clear understanding of our spiritual identity. It's more than just knowing our roles as parents, professionals, or citizens. It's knowing something deeper — the timeless part of us, beyond the fleeting titles and roles we take on. Our spiritual identity connects us to something larger than ourselves, something that doesn't change based on circumstance or society's opinion. This inner knowing acts as our true anchor.

When we are clear about who we are spiritually, it feeds our consciousness. Our consciousness — what we focus on, how we see the world, and what we prioritize — becomes enriched with clarity, purpose, and peace. It is like nourishing the roots of a tree with water and sunlight. We are no longer easily swayed by every passing trend or every changing wind, because we are grounded in the knowledge of something enduring.

Our consciousness, in turn, shapes our attachments and desires. When we're rooted in our spiritual identity, we desire things that uplift us and align with that identity. We attach ourselves to relationships, goals, and habits that nourish our soul and help us grow. This doesn't mean we become detached from the world or stop pursuing success, love, or happiness. It means that our sense of fulfillment no longer comes from external validation or superficial achievements. Instead, we align our external actions with our internal truth, creating harmony between our inner world and our outer world.

For example, if you know yourself as a being of kindness and empathy, your desires will naturally align with those values. You'll seek out relationships that allow you to express kindness and foster empathy. You'll gravitate toward work and projects that enable you to make a positive difference. You won't need the approval of others to validate your path, because you're deeply in tune with what resonates at your core. This is the essence of having a strong foundation, good soil, that allows you to grow and thrive in every aspect of your life.

Bad Soil

Now let's look at the opposite: bad soil. Bad soil comes from a confused sense of identity, one that sways with the winds of time, trends, and the opinions of others. When we don't know who we truly are, we become vulnerable to outside influences. We end up wearing different masks, adopting personas based on what we think will gain approval or make us fit in. Instead of being rooted in our authentic self, we're constantly shifting to please others or meet societal expectations.

This confused identity feeds a host of conflicting desires. One moment we might desire success, but the next we might want to withdraw because we fear failure. We might want deep, meaningful connections but find ourselves chasing shallow relationships because they seem more exciting in the moment. We might want peace and stability but constantly put ourselves in chaotic environments because we're not clear on what really serves our well-being.

When our desires are not aligned, it creates internal strife. Emotional chaos ensues because we are torn in different directions, never feeling truly settled. One part of us wants to chase after worldly success, while another part craves inner peace. We try to satisfy all these conflicting desires, but instead of finding fulfillment, we end up feeling fragmented. This is where disintegrity comes into play — our actions no longer reflect our true values, because we're not even sure what those values are.

Living this way can be exhausting. The emotional chaos creates a sense of instability. We may find ourselves questioning every decision, second-guessing our path, and feeling lost in the noise of competing desires and external influences. It's like trying to grow a tree in poor soil — no matter how much effort you put into it, the tree will struggle to stand strong. It's easily uprooted by the slightest storm or challenge.

So how do we avoid this? How do we ensure we're planting ourselves in good soil rather than bad soil? It starts with recognizing where we've become disconnected from our true identity. Once we acknowledge this, we can begin to nourish our roots — by aligning with our spiritual truth, cultivating positive attachments, and letting go of the desires that no longer serve us. Just as a tree thrives in fertile soil, we too can flourish when we root ourselves in clarity, purpose, and integrity.

This is the essence of Krishna's guidance to Arjuna in the Bhagavad Gita. When Arjuna was confused and overwhelmed, Krishna didn't just give him a battle plan. He reminded Arjuna of his deeper identity, of his duty and dharma. By understanding who he truly was, Arjuna was able to clear away his confusion and find the strength to act decisively. The lesson is timeless: when we are clear on our spiritual identity, we too can navigate life's challenges with strength and grace.

This is the real defense against a 24/7 connected world. Not a thicker skin, not logging off forever, but good soil. The next time a notification lights up with criticism, or silence where you hoped for applause, you can pause and ask which soil you are standing in. Rooted in your spiritual identity, the pendulum of public opinion can swing as far and as fast as it wants. It will not move you.