The Neighbor’s Insults and the Cool Breeze Passing by

Late in the afternoon, harsh sunlight cast long shadows across the bamboo fence. Inside a small thatched house, the woman had just finished her vegetarian meal, her mouth still fresh with the taste of boiled vegetables. On the other side of the fence, her neighbor splashed dishwater, her shrill voice rising: “Hypocrite! You go to the temple all day but help no one!” The sharp insults flew through the gaps in the leaves, cold and cutting like a razor blade.

The homeowner was new to practicing the Buddha's teachings (Dharma). She ate vegetarian food, visited the temple, and made offerings to accumulate merit. Yet since she began her practice, her neighbor grew increasingly resentful and jealous. Previously, the two families chatted freely. Now, hearing the chanting and seeing the respectful demeanor next door, the neighbor felt envy and dug up old grievances to lash out. Every day, she muttered sarcastic remarks: “Go ahead, eat your vegetarian food. See if it makes you ascend to heaven!”

At first, hearing this, the wife’s heart pounded. Her hands tightened around her rice ball. She thought, “I go to the temple without harming anyone. Why does she keep attacking me? I am so angry; I want to go over and scold her back.”

Seeing her distress, her husband said, “Wife, if we are practicing yet still harbor anger, what is the point? Let us visit the abbot and ask for guidance.”

That afternoon, the couple went to the temple. Before the abbot, the wife expressed her frustration, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Venerable Sir, I practice goodness, yet my neighbor calls me a hypocrite. I am deeply upset and cannot bear it.”

The abbot sat calmly, smiling gently. His voice was slow and steady. “This is the nature of life. People are often filled with hatred, jealousy, cruelty, and pettiness. For this reason, you must rise above the mundane. Do not seek revenge. Do not hold grudges. Strive to gather your mind and recite the Buddha’s name.”

The wife sighed and nodded, but her heart remained heavy. “Yes, I will recite the Buddha’s name. But how can I remain calm when she insults me constantly?”

The abbot replied, “Just continue reciting. Time will provide the answer.”

So the wife returned home and sat on the porch, reciting the Buddha’s name. Next door, the neighbor continued her insults: “Pretending to go to the temple!” The wife simply listened while chanting, “Namo Amitabha Buddha.” During the first month, her chest still burned, and blood rushed to her face whenever she heard the abuse. But by the second and third months, her breathing became more regular. By the fifth and sixth months, her mind naturally attained joy and purity. A portion of meditative concentration arose within her. She felt light, as if she had shed a heavy shell.

One day, the neighbor spoke again with a sour tone: “Your husband probably cheated the government and came home to brag about it too!”

Five months ago, such words would have driven her mad. But now, she sat still, the corner of her lips slightly raised, her mind undisturbed. The insult passed by her ears like a cool breeze, leaving no trace behind.

“How strange,” she thought silently. “The same words were once like a stabbing knife, but now they feel like a refreshing wind.”

This was the turning point. She realized that when the mind is not pure, others’ words cause suffering. When the mind is pure, others’ words become sources of joy. She immediately went to tell the abbot. “Venerable Sir, she insults me, yet I feel as refreshed as a cool breeze. I understand now. Suffering or happiness depends solely on one’s own mind.”

The abbot nodded. “The Buddha taught exactly this. He said life is full of suffering, but those who are liberated see everything as pure. You have stepped out of the burning house.”

From that day on, the practitioner no longer avoided her neighbor. Sometimes, she brought a bowl of vegetarian porridge as an offering. The neighbor accepted it in surprise, unable to find any further insults. Gradually, the tension between the two houses eased. The practitioner continued to recite the Buddha’s name, her heart always at ease. Whether she heard insults or praise, she viewed them like flowers blooming in early spring, without attachment.

In time, the neighbor’s jealousy faded. Occasionally, she crossed over to ask about spiritual practice. The old thatched house still let the wind blow through, but the sharp voices were gone. Instead, the sound of sutra chanting blended with laughter, transforming initial dryness into mutual understanding.

The Meaning of the Story

Life is inherently marked by suffering, and those untrained in practice are easily agitated by words. However, when the mind becomes pure and liberated, even insults feel as gentle as a cool breeze. Purity or suffering does not depend on external circumstances, but on the inner state of the mind. Spiritual practice is the transformation of the mind to perceive everything with dignity. Do not allow cruelty and anger to bind you.

Compiled from a dharma talk by Most Venerable Thich Chan Quang