Rejection, Resilience, and the Quiet Strength of Becoming
There is in this world no such force as a man determined to rise. The human soul cannot be permanently chained. –W.E.B. DuBois
There is a silence that follows many moments of courage. You craft something sacred. You offer your truth with care. You share work born of years—sometimes decades—of reflection, refinement, and sacrifice. And then, nothing. thunderous silence.
No applause. No embrace. Sometimes, not even acknowledgment.
But the absence of response is not always a verdict. Sometimes it is the echo of resistance—resistance not to your work, but to the vessel through which it comes. And in a world still shaped by centuries of erasure, that vessel—your name, your heritage, your very presence—can unsettle others before a single idea has been heard.
This is not unfamiliar territory for those of us who speak from the socially constructed margins. Nor is it new. But what we do with that silence, that dismissal, that rejection—this is where the work deepens. I have experienced a measurable portion of rejection over many, many years: from not being admitted to a previously desired graduate program, navigating and eventually extricating myself from lopsided relationships, being overlooked for advancement, not being paid what I am worth, being denied an opportunity to continue in a leadership position on mere hearsay without the decision-maker ever enquiring as to my side of the story, to even having my expertise questioned with nothing more than a glance. And yet, it is precisely because of those moments that the successes of recent years feel all the more meaningful.
The Illusion of Rejection
When I began developing what would become the Model for Perpetual Growth and Progress, I did not set out to create a framework for survival. I set out to map transformation. A philosophical, spiritual, and developmental structure grounded in Pure Consciousness, the Vedic Tradition, Transcendental Meditation, Masonic wisdom, and lived experience. But as the model took form—layer by layer, tier by tier—I realized it was also a guide through the wilderness of invisibility. In short, I realized afterward that, somehow, my journey of discovery was reflected within the model. I now recognize such may be so for many seekers.
Because to grow perpetually, you must become comfortable being misunderstood.
What feels like rejection is often redirection. Not a wall, but a turning. Not the universe saying no, but rather saying not here. Not yet. Not through them.
And if we are not anchored, we may mistake that delay as defeat.
But those of us who cultivate the interior landscape know: silence is not absence. It is gestation.
The Inner Architecture of Resilience
In the Model for Perpetual Growth and Progress, the foundational tier centers on identity grounded in Being rather than perception. Not who the world says you are—but who you know yourself to be in the stillness of your own presence. This is the Knower, the Process of Knowing, and the Known—the tripartite of Pure Consciousness. This is the real you, beneath the layers of who you have been told you are. And it is nothing less than Pure Consciousness itself.
This is not arrogance. It is rootedness.
When you operate from that place, rejection stings, but it does not sway. Because you are not seeking approval—you are following alignment.
Resilience, then, is not simply about endurance. It is about orientation. Knowing your internal compass and trusting that even when others turn away, you remain turned inward—toward Source, toward purpose, toward truth.
The Landscape of Resistance
To speak as a representative of a historically marginalized lineage is to speak into an atmosphere shaped by both explicit denial and subtle erasure.
Some will ignore your work because they cannot imagine excellence emerging from where you stand.
Some will resent your clarity because it contradicts the myths they have made peace with.
Some will dismiss your message—not because it lacks value, but because it threatens their claim on it.
And yes, some will simply remain indifferent—not out of malice, but because they are not yet ready.
But readiness is not your responsibility. Integrity is.
Your work is not an audition. It is a transmission.
Why You Must Keep Moving
There is a line I return to often: What is for you will not miss you. But I would add: It may wait until you are strong enough to carry it publicly without needing it to be received immediately.
Some messages are delayed not because they lack urgency—but because the world is not yet spacious enough to hold them. Or rather, because the world needs you to be more anchored before it begins to listen.
Every teaching worth embodying first returns to test the teacher.
So when they do not respond, when they overlook you, when the invitations never arrive—do not shrink.
Instead, move. Forward. Inward. Upward. Let your movement become a meditation, a mantra, a signal, an affirmation in motion.
Because the day is coming when what you carry will be needed—not in abstraction, but in emergency. And when that moment arrives, your preparation will speak louder than any podium ever could.
The Quiet Revolution of Inner Strength
As I have observed over the years with others and later came to practice myself, inner strength is not loud. It is quiet, focused, consistent. It is the choice to return to your purpose when the accolades do not follow. It is teaching the course anyway. Hosting the session anyway. Writing the next chapter, speaking the truth, showing up in full regalia even if the room is not full.
It is knowing that legacy is not built on applause. It is built on alignment.
And alignment is not flashy. It is faithful.
There were times when I questioned the value of the frameworks I was building—when I wondered if people really wanted what I was offering. But in those moments, I was reminded of the inner architecture I had constructed over years of spiritual practice. The silence I had made peace with. The models I had carved from stone while others were chasing smoke. In short, it seems Nature was guiding me through a “weatherproofing” process.
As a result, I kept moving. And I continue moving. Because the work was never about me being seen. It was about the message being available when someone was ready to see it.
Beyond Visibility
We live in an era obsessed with visibility. I have long viewed such as a result of the democratization of celebrity. But true impact is not always immediate. Some of the most powerful truths take years to root. Decades to bloom.
So if your work is not yet celebrated, do not mistake that for failure. Many of the world’s most lasting contributions began in obscurity. What matters is that the work is true.
Keep refining. Keep showing up. Keep still enough to hear the next instruction.
Because somewhere, someone is waking up in a world shaped by constructs you were born to challenge. And when they come looking, may they find you already walking, already teaching, already radiating what they were told could not come from you.
Conclusion: What Will Not Miss You
There is a force at work in this world that transcends rejection. A force that weaves intention, humility, and preparation into the unfolding of time.
What is for you will not miss you. It is not lost. It is aligned.
But alignment asks something of us: resilience, silence, and motion. The capacity to be unseen without becoming unrooted.
So when others ignore your work, remember: they are not the measure of your message. You are.
And if your path is lit only by your own torch for now, carry it well. Others will find it when the night grows long and they are far from home.
Until then, keep moving.
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Dr. Baruti KMT-Sisouvong, along with his wife, Mina, serves as Director of the Transcendental Meditation Program in Cambridge and the larger area of Metropolitan Boston. They are parents to four beautiful children. To learn more about him, visit his website: https://www.barutikmtsisouvong.com/.