September 14
As the sandalwood still bestows its gifts on the axe that fells it, so the noble person does good even to one who harms him. In hardship he does not bow, in good fortune he does not swell with pride — his nature stays the same.
Nitishataka (freely rendered)
Listening mode
As the sandalwood still bestows its gifts on the axe that fells it, so the noble person does good even to one who harms him. In hardship he does not bow, in good fortune he does not swell with pride — his nature stays the same.
Someone who treated you badly asks you for some information a few weeks later. You know the answer. And you notice how much room there is between a good answer and a bad one: being a little curter, leaving out a detail, waiting an hour longer.
None of it would be a wrong. That is exactly what makes it tempting. You could repay the slight in small change without anyone being able to call it that, not even you.
If you nevertheless answer the way you would answer anyone else, that is not yet reconciliation. The slight hasn't disappeared, after all, and perhaps you don't even want to let it disappear. It only means that it has no say in how carefully you do your work. Your anger remains yours. So does your care.
The strange thing is that the other person learns almost nothing of this. For him it was an ordinary answer. Perhaps he hadn't even expected a worse one.
