I spent many hard years just trying to survive. Now that I finally have enough to live a little more comfortably, relationships I didn’t have time to care for during those busy, chaotic days are now causing me pain in a different way. Still, maybe it’s not as hard as just trying to make ends meet.
There’s a story I remember from a Buddhist monk named Beopryun:
A monk once went to a rich man's house to ask for alms. The owner got angry and tried to chase the monk away. But the monk just stood there with a gentle smile.
The owner shouted, "Why are you smiling?"
The monk asked, “If someone brings you a gift and you accept it, whose is it?”
The owner said, “Mine, of course.”
The monk continued, “Then, if you don’t accept the gift, whose is it?”
The owner replied, “Well, then it belongs to the one who brought it.”
The monk said, “Exactly. I did not accept the anger you gave me, so it’s still yours. That’s why I can smile.”
Only then did the rich man understand, and he treated the monk with great respect.
When someone says something hurtful to me, I get angry and wonder, Should I say something back? Or should I just stay quiet? I try to remember the monk’s story and swallow my anger. But even if I don’t show my anger, I can’t smile like the monk. I hold on to the anger inside and think about how to let it go. Should I cut off contact? Never see them again? Or should I just live well and let that be my revenge? These kinds of thoughts fill my head. I waste time and energy thinking about useless things. Eventually, I come to a quiet conclusion:
“It’s okay to be insulted.”
Even after that, the memory still bothers me, like a pain in the back of my head. I keep going over it again and again. But slowly, as time passes, the monster called anger begins to leave my heart, and I start to feel peaceful. Watching the anger leave from a distance, I smile to myself like a fool and whisper:
“I did the right thing. I’m glad I held back.”
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