Why the Gita Says Peace Comes After the Storm - Not Before
Riya Kumari | Jun 24, 2025, 12:12 IST
( Image credit : Times Life Bureau, Timeslife )
It comes with anxiety sweats, unread texts, and existential spirals at 2 AM. And just when you think you’ve got it all under control—boom. Chaos. Crisis. Someone ghosts you. Or worse, your boss uses “let’s circle back” in a meeting. Again. But here’s the plot twist the Bhagavad Gita casually drops: You’re not broken. You’re just in the storm. And the peace? It’s not before the storm, babe. It’s after. Always after.
You think something’s wrong with you because you’re not at peace. You’ve read the quotes. You’ve heard people say “just let go,” “trust the timing,” “be still,” blah blah blah. But nothing inside you feels still. You’re restless. You’re overthinking. You’re caught in a cycle of regret, hope, fear, doubt—and on top of that, you’re blaming yourself for not being more “spiritual” about it. But here’s the thing the Bhagavad Gita makes clear, if you actually sit with it: Peace doesn’t come before the storm. It comes after. Not because the storm is punishment. But because it’s necessary.
Let’s be honest. Most of us don’t go looking for wisdom when life is good. When things are smooth, we’re too busy. Distracted. Comfortable. But the moment life hurts? The moment something breaks your heart or your certainty? You start asking real questions.
Who am I, if this falls apart?
What do I believe in, when nothing is working out?
What’s actually worth holding onto?
This is exactly where Arjuna starts in the Gita—on a battlefield, not in a temple. He’s overwhelmed, not enlightened. He literally says, “I can’t do this,” and collapses in the middle of what’s supposed to be his big moment. Krishna doesn’t tell him to chill out or meditate it away. He meets him there, in the mess. And says:
“This discomfort? This storm? Don’t run from it. It’s part of the process.”
That’s the problem with how we talk about healing today. We confuse peace with pretending. Pretending you’re okay. Pretending it doesn’t affect you. Pretending you’ve moved on. But the Gita doesn’t reward pretending. It honors honesty. It honors effort. It says:
You don’t need to feel strong to take the next step.
You just need to take it.
You want peace? That starts by facing the thing you’ve been avoiding. Not fixing it. Not controlling it. Just facing it. Peace doesn’t mean the world around you goes quiet. It means you stop fighting yourself.
We keep thinking we’re failing at life because it doesn’t feel good all the time. But what if this is the becoming? The Gita teaches that peace isn’t the absence of difficulty. It’s the outcome of living through it with awareness. So if you’re crying more than usual, if you're doubting things you once believed in, if you feel like nothing makes sense anymore—don’t panic.
This is the middle of the story. Not the end. You’re shedding ideas that don’t serve you. You’re noticing patterns you used to ignore. You’re realizing that peace doesn’t come from escaping your life—but from understanding it.
Think about it. How many times has your so-called breakdown actually been the thing that broke open something? You finally left. You finally asked for help. You finally told the truth. It didn’t come from a moment of clarity under soft lighting. It came from sitting in your mess long enough to stop fearing it. That’s the storm.
It wrecks what you’ve outgrown. And yes, it’s messy and unfair and exhausting. But once it passes, something quiet settles in. And it’s not relief. It’s not distraction. It’s peace. Real peace. The kind that says:
“I don’t need everything to be perfect. I just need to stay true to myself through the chaos.”
The Gita doesn’t say the storm is optional. It says the storm is part of the way. Peace isn’t what happens when everything is fixed. It’s what happens when you stop waiting for everything to be fixed to live your life. And maybe right now, you're in the thick of it. Maybe you're lost, confused, raw. Good. You're not failing. You're not broken. You're just not done yet. And that? That’s where peace begins.
When everything is falling apart, you’re finally paying attention
Comfort
( Image credit : Pexels )
Let’s be honest. Most of us don’t go looking for wisdom when life is good. When things are smooth, we’re too busy. Distracted. Comfortable. But the moment life hurts? The moment something breaks your heart or your certainty? You start asking real questions.
Who am I, if this falls apart?
What do I believe in, when nothing is working out?
What’s actually worth holding onto?
This is exactly where Arjuna starts in the Gita—on a battlefield, not in a temple. He’s overwhelmed, not enlightened. He literally says, “I can’t do this,” and collapses in the middle of what’s supposed to be his big moment. Krishna doesn’t tell him to chill out or meditate it away. He meets him there, in the mess. And says:
“This discomfort? This storm? Don’t run from it. It’s part of the process.”
You don’t become peaceful by pretending you’re not in pain
Pain
( Image credit : Pexels )
That’s the problem with how we talk about healing today. We confuse peace with pretending. Pretending you’re okay. Pretending it doesn’t affect you. Pretending you’ve moved on. But the Gita doesn’t reward pretending. It honors honesty. It honors effort. It says:
You don’t need to feel strong to take the next step.
You just need to take it.
You want peace? That starts by facing the thing you’ve been avoiding. Not fixing it. Not controlling it. Just facing it. Peace doesn’t mean the world around you goes quiet. It means you stop fighting yourself.
If you feel broken, you’re not behind. You’re becoming
Climbing
( Image credit : Pexels )
We keep thinking we’re failing at life because it doesn’t feel good all the time. But what if this is the becoming? The Gita teaches that peace isn’t the absence of difficulty. It’s the outcome of living through it with awareness. So if you’re crying more than usual, if you're doubting things you once believed in, if you feel like nothing makes sense anymore—don’t panic.
This is the middle of the story. Not the end. You’re shedding ideas that don’t serve you. You’re noticing patterns you used to ignore. You’re realizing that peace doesn’t come from escaping your life—but from understanding it.
The storm is loud. But it clears the path
Rain
( Image credit : Pexels )
Think about it. How many times has your so-called breakdown actually been the thing that broke open something? You finally left. You finally asked for help. You finally told the truth. It didn’t come from a moment of clarity under soft lighting. It came from sitting in your mess long enough to stop fearing it. That’s the storm.
It wrecks what you’ve outgrown. And yes, it’s messy and unfair and exhausting. But once it passes, something quiet settles in. And it’s not relief. It’s not distraction. It’s peace. Real peace. The kind that says:
“I don’t need everything to be perfect. I just need to stay true to myself through the chaos.”