In this episode of “5 Minutes,” Dr. Robert Svoboda explores the deeper meaning of Shanti, or peace, from a traditional Sanskrit perspective.

Many people, including those outside of India, are familiar with the word Shanti. It has become widely used and is often understood to mean a quiet, uneventful, or passive state. However, true peace is anything but passive. It is the result of a profound inner transformation that ultimately allows a person to arrive at a state of genuine resolution, where peace is active, stable, and deeply rooted.

The word Shanti is closely related to Shankara, “the one who bestows peace,” a name of Lord Shiva. Shiva grants peace, if at no other moment than at the time of death, when he removes the pains, miseries, and limitations associated with embodied existence. Ideally, however, one comes to appreciate the value of Shiva long before that final moment and allows Shankara to help resolve life’s conflicts while still living. Otherwise, those unresolved conflicts remain until death temporarily ends them, only for them to arise again in another lifetime.

Peace, therefore, is something that must be actively cultivated.

In Indian aesthetics, there are traditionally nine rasas, or primary emotional flavors, expressed in drama and human life. These include powerful emotions such as passion, anger, fear, disgust, and others. Yet beyond these nine is a tenth rasa: Shanti, the rasa of peace.

The idea is that throughout life, each person is driven by one or more dominant emotional forces. It may be fear, anger, greed, passion, or some other powerful tendency. Whatever that dominant force may be, it becomes the work of a lifetime to understand it, transform it, and prevent it from controlling one’s awareness and actions.

The goal is to come to terms with these powerful emotions, ideally before death, so that they no longer dominate the mind.

Shanti is the culmination of that process.

If we think of life as a play, as Shakespeare suggested when he wrote that “all the world’s a stage,” then each of us is playing a particular role. Good parents, teachers, and guides help us discover that role, not only as a profession or career but as the unique dharma we are meant to fulfill.

As we live that role with increasing awareness, we gradually move toward a state of resolution. By the end of life, if we have performed our role well and learned the lessons it offered, we may finally attain genuine peace.

Then we can truly say that we have lived a life well.