No One to Blame: Understanding the Root of Anger

When Anger Has Nowhere to Stay

In our daily lives, anger often appears without invitation. A single word, a small inconvenience, or an unmet expectation can stir something deep within us. Before we realize it, the mind is no longer calm, and the heart feels as though it is burning.

There was once a woman who had a very bad temper. She often got angry over small things. Afterward, she would regret it. She knew her anger hurt others, and she truly wanted to change. But when anger came, she felt she could not control it.

One day, a friend told her, “There is a wise monk nearby. Maybe he can help you.”
So she decided to go.

When she met the monk, she told him everything—how easily she lost her temper, how much pain it caused, and how helpless she felt. She hoped he would give her some advice.

Elder woman talking to a Buddhist monk inside a temple with statues and worshippers in the background

The monk listened quietly. When she finished, he said nothing. He simply led her to a small room, stepped outside, and closed the door.

Soon she realized—the door was locked.

At first, she was confused. Then she became angry.

“I came here for help, and he locks me in?” she thought.

The room was dark and cold. The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. She started shouting, knocking on the door, and scolding the monk loudly.

But there was no answer.

No matter how much she shouted, the monk did not respond.

After a long time, she became tired. Her voice grew quiet.

Then the monk asked from outside, “Are you still angry?”

She said, “I’m angry at myself! Why did I come here?”

The monk replied, “If you cannot forgive yourself, how will you forgive others?” Then he left.

The room became quiet again.

After some time, the monk returned and asked, “Are you still angry?”

She said, “No, I’m not angry anymore.”

“Why?” he asked.

She said, “What’s the use of being angry? I’m still stuck in this dark, cold room.”

Her anger had weakened, but it was still there.

Later, when the monk asked again, she said, “I’m not angry anymore, because you are not worth my anger.”

The monk said, “The root of your anger is still there. You have not let it go.”

His words stayed in her mind.

After a long silence, she asked, “Can you tell me—what is anger?”

This time, the monk came to the door. He did not speak. He simply poured the tea in his cup onto the ground.

The woman watched quietly.

Suddenly, she understood.

“If I do not get angry, where does anger come from?” she thought.
“If my mind is clear, what is there to be angry about?”

At that moment, she saw the truth: anger does not come from others. It comes from our own mind.

From the teaching of Gautama Buddha, we learn that anger arises when the mind is not open—when we hold on too tightly to our own thoughts, feelings, and expectations.

If we do not hold onto anger, it cannot stay.

In our daily life, anger often feels very real. We think others cause it. But if we look carefully, we see that it begins inside us.

When anger comes, we can pause and ask:
Why am I reacting this way?
What am I holding onto?
Can I let it go?

If we become more patient, more tolerant, and more willing to step back, anger will slowly lose its power.

Letting go of anger does not make us weak. It frees us.

When we put down the fire in our heart, we will see that things are not as bad as we thought. Other people are not as terrible as we imagined.

In the end, the lesson is simple:

If we do not create anger, it has nowhere to stay.

Link:https://peacelilysite.com/2026/04/21/no-one-to-blame-understanding-the-root-of-anger/

How to Face Unfounded Accusations and Grievances — A Lesson from the Buddha

More than 2,500 years ago, when Shakyamuni Buddha walked the earth, even He—an enlightened being of supreme virtue—was not immune to slander and false accusations. Yet, through profound wisdom and boundless compassion, the Buddha addressed these challenges with grace, setting an eternal example for all beings on how to face adversity.

One such episode is recorded in the sutras and remains deeply relevant in our modern world, where misunderstandings and grievances often escalate due to fear, anger, or ego.


One morning in Jetavana Monastery, as the Buddha and his monks were preparing to go on their daily alms round, a group of royal guards suddenly stormed in. They announced that they were under orders to search the monastery grounds for a female corpse.

The monks were shocked. Venerable Baddiya inquired further and discovered that the deceased was Sundari, a young woman known for her recent attendance at the Buddha’s teachings. She belonged to a large sect in the city of Savatthi.

Despite the monks’ firm belief that no such thing could happen in their peaceful community, the guards began their search. To the horror of all present, Sundari’s body was found hastily buried in a shallow pit—shockingly close to the Buddha’s own residence.


The body was taken away, and almost immediately, members of Sundari’s sect began parading through the streets of Savatthi, wailing and pointing fingers. They accused the monks—disciples of the Buddha—of rape and murder. Their shouts pierced the hearts of the city’s residents:

“Is this what compassion looks like? Is this the kindness preached by the monks of the Sakya clan?”

Faith began to waver. The once-revered monks were now questioned and ridiculed. Even devout followers hesitated. Doubts crept in like shadows.

But amidst this storm of falsehood, the Buddha remained calm. He instructed his disciples:

“Do not be disturbed. Do not feel shame for what you have not done. As long as we uphold the Dharma, the truth will reveal itself.”


Compassionate Action and the Power of Truth

While the Buddha taught patience, some of his lay supporters took discreet action. Visakha, a wise and generous patroness of the Sangha, consulted with Sariputta, one of the Buddha’s chief disciples. Together, they enlisted the help of Prince Jeta and hired a private investigator to uncover the truth.

Within seven days, the real story surfaced. Two men, drunk and arguing over their ill-gotten gains, confessed: they had been paid by Sundari’s sect leader to murder her and bury the body near the monastery—an act designed solely to discredit the Buddha and his followers.

The culprits were arrested. The truth was undeniable. King Pasenadi, deeply moved and ashamed that such injustice had occurred, visited Jetavana to publicly reaffirm his trust in the Sangha.

Yet the Buddha, ever compassionate, requested the king not to seek vengeance. He said:

“As long as jealousy and hatred exist in the human heart, such misdeeds will continue. Let us rise above them, not descend to their level.”

The people of Savatthi, now enlightened by the truth, restored their faith in the Buddha and the monastic community. What began as a moment of crisis ended as a testament to the strength of integrity and the enduring power of compassion.

This story serves as a profound reminder: when facing unjust accusations, our greatest protection lies in truth, patience, and inner peace.

We cannot control the words or actions of others, but we can choose how we respond. If we hold fast to our principles, walk the path with sincerity, and act from compassion rather than reaction, the light of truth will inevitably shine through the darkness of misunderstanding.

Link:https://peacelilysite.com/2025/05/23/how-to-face-unfounded-accusations-and-grievances-a-lesson-from-the-buddha/

Ananda and the Untouchable

A Buddhist Story of Loving Kindness

By Martin Goodson

One day Ananda, the Buddha’s assistant, approached a well to have a drink.  A woman, a member of the untouchable caste, was drawing water and Ananda asked her for some.  The woman was surprised that she had been asked to give anything to a monk as the caste laws stated that anything given by one who is considered unclean would also be unclean.  However, Ananda persisted and eventually she gave in and gave him a drink.

The woman was so moved by this experience which had never happened before that she felt a strong affection for Ananda and made up her mind to serve him.  Thus, she went to the Buddha and asked if she might be Ananda’s assistant. 

  The Buddha asked her why she wanted to do this.  She told him.  The Buddha replied that what she had fallen in love with was not Ananda but his kindness.  Also, that this kindness was present in her own heart and that if she were to cultivate it within  she would be able to serve both kings and queens.

This is a lovely story about the power of goodwill or ‘metta’ to affect the heart. The Buddha taught that the most important element of any act is the motivation behind it.  All of us are capable of ‘doing the right thing’ but this is not really enough; the motivation behind the action determines the outcome.  A common Buddhist practice is the practice of acquiring merit in order to ensure a good future re-birth.  This is akin to the old Christian view of doing good so as to go to heaven after death.  However, if I am doing good solely for the outcome to myself then the act is already flawed.  What is more it shows itself to others in time.  We all know the stereotype of the do-gooder who is so caught up in bringing about some future good that he ignores whether or not the other person requires help in this way.  The problem with trying to do good for others when in fact I am looking for something for myself is that I fail to see what it is that others really do need right now. Both self-concern and regard for others are two very different way of seeing the same situation.  

When the heart has for a moment forgotten ‘I’ and ‘my concerns’, and this does happen more often than realised, then it opens up and reflects the situation.  What is more, not only does it see clearly,  but, because it is a human heart, it responds with the warmth of humanity.  This happens, not because it wants anything, but because it is its nature to do so.  Humans have the capacity to put themselves in the other’s shoes and thus respond without intending something just for myself.  This is also reflected in Jesus Christ’s admonition to ‘Love thy neighbour as thyself’.  In other words, by forgetting myself I forget the separation from others too.  Thus, a true ‘fellow feeling’ is born and this is the root of metta and of compassion .

Link:https://peacelilysite.com/2024/04/26/ananda-and-the-untouchable/

Source: https://www.thezengateway.com/practice/ananda-and-the-untouchable