The Corner of the House and the Light

The corner of the house was pitch dark, the scent of incense smoke mingling with the damp mold of endless rainy days. Sister Lan sat huddled on an old plastic chair, her eyes sunken deep into their sockets, red and swollen from crying until no tears remained. It had been three weeks since her only son passed away suddenly. The world outside continued to flow, with noisy traffic and distant laughter drifting in, but for her, everything had fallen silent. She did not eat, she did not sleep, only repeating her son’s name unconsciously.

Her husband, Minh, stood leaning against the doorframe, his face gaunt and covered in stubble. He looked at his wife with eyes full of both compassion and helplessness. Lan’s two younger sisters were no better; they watched their sister in fear, afraid to enter the room. The entire family seemed imprisoned in a swirling vortex of black sadness. All daily activities had come to a halt. Everyone was tired, everyone was exhausted. One person’s pain had spread, drowning the whole family.

"Sister, please eat some porridge," Minh said, his voice hoarse as he placed a bowl of hot porridge before his wife. Lan shook her head vigorously, clutching her chest where her heart felt like it was bleeding. "Please don’t make me eat anymore. I want to see my son. I want to follow him," she whispered, her voice weak yet filled with obsession.

Minh sighed and collapsed onto the floor. He felt completely powerless. If Lan remained immersed in this suffering, she would not only destroy herself but also drag him and her sisters down with her. The family would fall apart. Just then, a close friend visited and quietly placed a phone containing dharma talks into Lan’s hands. "Try listening to these, perhaps you will find a way out," the friend said gently.

In the following days, Lan still sat there, but now she wore headphones. The warm, low voice of Venerable Thich Chan Quang rang out, judging nothing, forcing nothing, only gently awakening her mind. The teaching that "A true disciple of the Buddha is one who knows how not to cause suffering to oneself, nor to others" struck her mind like lightning. She startled. She was indeed causing herself suffering. But she was also causing suffering to her husband, to her sisters, and to her elderly parents crying outside.

That small ray of light began to penetrate the darkness. Lan recalled the teachings on cause and effect (karmic law) and impermanence (anicca). Her son’s death was part of the natural law, but her self-torment and dragging her family into the abyss stemmed from attachment and selfishness within her grief. She began to think differently. Instead of screaming, she started chanting sutras and eating again, even if only a few spoonfuls.

One afternoon, Lan stepped out of the room, sunlight slanting through the crack in the door onto her face. Minh looked at his wife in surprise. Lan smiled, a distorted smile but sincere for the first time in many weeks. "Honey, I am hungry," she said. In that moment, the atmosphere in the house seemed to relax. Her sisters rushed over to hug her. The pain was still there, but it was no longer a chain binding the entire family. She had learned to transform suffering into positive energy, to save herself and those around her.

The Meaning of the Story

This story emphasizes a core principle in practice: "Do not cause suffering to yourself, do not cause suffering to others." Personal pain, if not handled correctly, becomes a burden for the community and family. Letting go of attachment and transforming the inner mind not only helps one find peace but is also a moral responsibility toward loved ones. True peace begins with recognizing the intimate connection between one’s own happiness and the happiness of others.

Compiled from the dharma talk by Venerable Thich Chan Quang