If I were to try to read, much less answer, all the attacks made

Host: The afternoon light had begun to wane, casting a soft glow through the windows. Outside, the world seemed muted, the distant hum of traffic faint against the quiet of the room. Jack leaned back in the old armchair, his fingers running absentmindedly through the pages of a book he wasn’t really reading. Jeeny sat across from him, her legs tucked underneath her, her gaze fixed somewhere beyond the window, as though her thoughts were drifting with the passing clouds.

Host: The words of Abraham Lincoln echoed in the air: “If I were to try to read, much less answer, all the attacks made on me, this shop might as well be closed for any other business.” It was a statement that carried weight, not just because of its historical significance, but because it felt timeless—a reminder of how exhausting it could be to engage with the noise of the world.

Jeeny: She broke the silence, her voice gentle, but with a quiet intensity: “You ever think about what Lincoln meant by that? About how answering all the attacks made on him would have taken up all his time? How it would’ve distracted him from everything else?”

Jack: His fingers stilled on the page, and his gaze shifted toward her. His voice was sharp, as if he had been holding something back: “I get it. Sometimes it feels like the more you engage with people’s criticism, the more it pulls you away from what you’re actually supposed to be doing. It’s easy to get caught up in the noise. But isn’t that what people do? They get distracted, and they waste time trying to prove themselves, answer every little attack, every opinion. Eventually, it feels like you’re fighting a battle you’ll never win.”

Jeeny: She nodded, her voice calm, but firm: “Exactly. But I think what Lincoln is saying is that we can’t spend all our energy trying to fight every battle that’s thrown at us. It’s about recognizing that some things don’t deserve our time, our energy. If we’re too busy answering attacks, we lose sight of the bigger picture. We get pulled away from the things that truly matter.”

Host: The quiet hum of the room seemed to grow louder as Jeeny spoke, the weight of her words sinking in. Jack’s gaze softened as he turned them over in his mind, the tension of defensiveness beginning to ease. He was a man who often found himself wading through the constant noise of the world, trying to justify his choices, his opinions. But Lincoln’s words, though simple, seemed to offer a way out of that relentless battle.

Jack: His voice was quieter now, more reflective: “But what if silence feels like surrender? I get what you’re saying about not engaging with every attack, but sometimes, I feel like if I don’t speak up, if I don’t defend myself, I’m just letting people walk all over me. It’s hard not to react when you feel like you’re being misunderstood or misrepresented.”

Jeeny: She paused, her eyes focused on him, her tone now softer, almost understanding: “I get that, Jack. But maybe it’s not about silence. It’s about choosing where you direct your energy. Not everything demands a response. Sometimes, silence can be the strongest answer, because it forces people to look at themselves instead of focusing on you. It’s not about letting people walk over you; it’s about choosing not to let their negativity control your actions.”

Host: There was a pause between them, a shared understanding beginning to form in the quiet space. The rain outside had stopped, but the atmosphere in the room felt a little more open, a little more peaceful, as if the conversation had broken down a barrier they didn’t even realize was there.

Jack: His voice was a little softer now, the edge of defensiveness fading: “So you’re saying that the real power comes in not feeling the need to respond to every attack, to not let it take over your life? That maybe silence isn’t weakness—it’s a choice?”

Jeeny: She nodded slowly, a gentle smile appearing on her lips: “Exactly. It’s not about surrendering or letting people walk over you. It’s about not letting their words take you off course. Not letting their negativity derail you from what you’re trying to accomplish. We can’t fight every battle, Jack. Some things are better left unanswered.”

Host: The room seemed to settle into a deeper quiet, the weight of their words lingering like a slow exhale. Jack’s shoulders had relaxed, the tension in his body easing as he considered the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to respond to every jab, every criticism. Maybe the true strength lay in choosing where he directed his energy, where he chose to focus his attention.

Jack: His voice was calm now, almost pensive: “I guess I’ve spent too much time trying to prove myself, trying to respond to everyone who doesn’t understand. But maybe Lincoln had a point. Maybe if I stopped reacting to every attack, I could actually focus on what’s important.”

Jeeny: Her eyes were warm, her voice full of quiet understanding: “That’s exactly it, Jack. Not everything is worth responding to. What you choose to respond to is what defines you. And sometimes, the most powerful thing you can do is just keep moving forward, undistracted by the noise.”

Host: The quiet in the room was now rich with a shared sense of understanding. The rain had stopped, and the last vestiges of light from the fading afternoon slipped through the window, painting the walls in a soft, golden hue. Jack and Jeeny sat in the quiet, not needing to say more. The conversation had revealed a new truth—not just about criticism, but about how to live in a world that often demands responses to things that don’t deserve them.

Jack: He sighed, the weight of his thoughts now settling: “Maybe I’ve been too caught up in the wrong battles. Maybe it’s time to focus on what really matters.”

Jeeny: Smiling, her voice soft but firm: “Exactly. And sometimes, that means letting go of the things that don’t deserve your time. And keeping your focus on the bigger picture.”

Host: The world outside had become quiet, the evening settling into a gentle peace. Inside, there was no urgency, no rush to fill the space with words. The conversation had done its work. Jack and Jeeny sat in the understanding they had shared, the noise of the world beyond muted, and for once, the quiet felt like a choice. A choice to focus on what truly mattered.