What if it's not too late?
I was at a Thai temple, Wat Ananda, conducting a temple tour for Rainbodhi SG, an LGBTQ friendship group for both Buddhists and non-Buddhists, people with faith and those without. I’ve been very fortunate to earn their trust over the years, allowing me to guide tours at the temple anytime for the past decade. The relationship I’ve built with the staff has been special; they’ve seen me grow from chubby to slim over the years :)
Since I can speak Thai, one of the monks who has observed me for the past few years often helps introduce me to the groups joining the tour. He always praises me in front of everyone, saying how knowledgeable I am in my explanations and how familiar I am with Thai culture.
From our interactions, he noticed my health wasn’t at its best, especially after seeing the tube hanging from my stomach. He gently advised me not to let anger control my emotions and mentioned that he sensed some deep, bottled-up feelings inside me.
At first, I was surprised. I thought I had been managing my emotions well, especially after embracing the Dharma and practicing mindfulness. I truly believed I was in control.
Hell no! When you think you’re in control, that’s exactly when you’re not. And that’s the worst part—it builds up until it blows like a volcano. Because of the monk’s reminder, I started watching my anger more closely, trying to really feel what was happening inside. And he was right.
My beloved mum, whom I adore and appreciates her so much, is also the one who ruffles me the most. Even small things, like how to roll the luggage or which bag she should take on a trip, can set me off. I notice how easily she stirs my emotions when she fusses over me, trying to make sure I’m cared for, or when she tells me how I should take care of myself. There’s a stubborn streak in her that reminds me exactly why I’m her son.
I can’t blame her, though. She knows her son can’t eat food anymore and has seen me at my weakest and most vulnerable. She works so hard to make sure I’m okay, refusing to let me carry luggage when we travel, changing my bedsheets because the mattress is too heavy, cleaning my feeding bag after every meal. She’s seventy-eight now. What kind of son could bear to watch his mother work so hard just to make his life a little easier? Yet she keeps doing it. No matter how annoyed I get over the small, silly things, she never gives up on me.
Sometimes she says things that sting, like, “If you were healthy now, my life would be so happy — I could enjoy my old age better and travel more carefree.” At first, I was furious. How could she say that when I’m the one living with this illness?
A friend who stayed with us once noticed her sighing at the table while she ate, clearly sad that her son couldn’t enjoy food or eat normally like everyone else. Seeing that made me feel both angry and guilty, angry at the situation, guilty that my condition had taken away some of her joy.
I reflected deeply and began to understand through my Dharma practice. Remember that “in control” part? I realized I can’t even control my own emotions, so how could I possibly control how others respond or react to my circumstances?
Take my mum, for example. As much as I love her, I can’t control how she handles her emotions and feelings. It’s almost funny when I think about how much we try to control things in life that were never ours to hold. So, I let it be. The only thing I can do is work on my own well-being, to stay healthier and give her one less worry to carry on her shoulders.
What if it’s not too late? What if I can transform my anger into something lighter, something that protects my health and brings more balance to everyone around me? I sometimes wonder, could I live with the guilt of knowing I let anger get in the way when she’s no longer by my side?
The Buddha once said, “Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned.” Those words hit me hard. Anger doesn’t punish others; it only poisons the one who holds it.
Anger arises from ignorance, and ignorance comes from that inner voice saying, “I’m hurt. Why me? I should be treated better. It’s not fair.” And that, my friend, is the ego speaking.
Through meditation, I’ve learned that the first step in dealing with anger is awareness. When I feel that heat rising inside, I try to pause, breathe deeply, and observe it without judgment. The Buddha taught that if we can see anger as a passing mental state rather than part of who we are, it loses its power. Compassion and understanding take its place.
If I ever have a choice, I should pause and reflect on all the kind things my mum has done for me over the years before letting anger take over. I should meditate more, so I can be more mindful and aware when anger begins to rise.
Like the monk reminded me, anger never does any good for anyone, including myself. So why get so angry? Stay clear-minded, respond with kindness, and maybe, just maybe, my mum will finally change the bag she carries.
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