Discretion – Hiding the Ego to Find Inner Peace

This teaching explores the virtue of discretion: not boasting about one’s own merits, recognizing that deep down we are not as important as we think, and learning to see pride in our words and actions.

At noon, sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting shimmering patterns on the old brick floor of the storage shed. A young novice monk lay in a hammock, holding a sutra, his eyes intently following each line of text. The space was so quiet that only the gentle breeze slipping through the door crack and the rustling of leaves outside could be heard. Suddenly, slow footsteps approached. An elderly man with a gaunt appearance entered, holding an old notebook, his eyes hesitant.

The old man had once been an intellectual, but due to misfortune, he sought refuge at the temple just to secure a daily meal. Every few days, his young daughter visited him, bringing schoolwork for help. Today, facing a difficult chemistry problem he could not recall, he sought out the young novice—the only person in the temple who seemed knowledgeable about books.

The novice remained lying in the hammock. He did not stand up; he simply reached out to take the notebook, glanced at it, and continued explaining from where he lay. The old man nodded, understanding dawning on his face, and left happily, eager to explain the solution to his daughter. However, the novice was unaware that a senior teacher in the temple had witnessed the entire incident.

That afternoon, the teacher called the novice over. His voice was gentle yet stern: “My child, you have made a mistake. Regardless, the old man is much older than you. You are young and new to monastic life, yet you spoke to him while lying in your hammock. This action reveals pride in your mind. You considered yourself superior and failed to show respect to an elder.”

Hearing this, the novice froze. A sour feeling rose in his chest, and his heart tightened. He had no intention of looking down on the old man; he had simply spoken casually while resting. But upon hearing the teacher’s reminder, he suddenly realized: deep down, there was indeed a hint of arrogance, a subtle belief that he was more capable than others. He bowed his head, accepted the fault, and silently thanked the teacher for pointing out a flaw he could not see himself.

From then on, the novice understood a precious lesson: boasting, even through a small action, is a manifestation of pride. Pride is a dangerous illness that makes people view themselves as the center of the universe, constantly seeking admiration from others. He recalled times when he liked to talk about the good deeds he had done, the talents he possessed, or the money in his pocket, all just to hear praise. He realized that the pleasure of being admired was illusory, like bubbles on the surface of a lake, vanishing quickly.

He remembered once during lunch, a university student held up a segment of jackfruit and asked, “Do you know what this is called?” The novice had never studied it, but blurted out, “Yes, it is called a fruit, isn’t it?” The student widened his eyes in praise: “Wow, trying to be a scholar!” Everyone around looked at him with admiration. His heart swelled with indescribable joy. Even now, he clearly remembers that feeling—being admired by others feels sweet, yet it is also utterly fake.

He also recalled ninth grade, during English class. The teacher asked the whole class, “Which word is synonymous with ‘like’?” No one could answer. The teacher called his name. He stood up and naturally replied, “Sir, ‘similar’.” The teacher praised him: “This boy in our class really understands!” He did not know why he knew the answer, but the sense of pride made him feel superior to his classmates.

Through these experiences, the novice gradually absorbed the teacher’s wisdom: humans crave admiration intensely. Because of this craving, people may fabricate, deceive, and pretend in various ways. Yet, the admiration of others is merely a psychological state within their minds—invisible and ungraspable. When we cling to it, rejoice in it, or grieve without it, we act foolishly. As Master Dongshan once said, “I have fame in the world; who can remove it for me?” A monk opened his hands and replied, “Venerable, let me go.” This implies that fame is illusory, lacking substance; clinging to it only adds suffering.

The novice understood that the practice of discretion is not hiding things out of fear that others will ask for favors. Rather, it stems from a deep realization that one is not important. When performing meritorious acts, one sees them as ordinary and does not need to tell anyone. When possessing talent, one sees it as a minor ability, not worth boasting about. Such a person has very light attachment to self (ego), making it easier to attain meditative concentration and progress in spiritual cultivation.

Conversely, some malicious people in the world are also discreet, but they hide evil intentions, waiting for the right moment to strike. They speak little, but their eyes are deep and sinister. The novice recalled meeting a temple caretaker whom everyone described as gentle. But when the novice looked into his eyes, he saw an unfathomable depth. Indeed, after only one week, the man tried to drive the novice away. But the novice did not feel offended, because he worked for the Buddha's teachings (Dharma), not for himself. Calmly, he said, “You cannot decide this alone. Please gather all the Buddhist followers for a meeting.” In the end, the followers and local authorities supported the novice, and the man had to leave.

The novice also learned that a person of true strength knows how to conceal their capabilities. They do not boast about wealth, talent, or possessions. Those who frequently brag, even borrowing money to buy cars just to keep up with others, are shallow and unlikely to achieve great things. Those with real substance are often quiet and humble, revealing themselves only when necessary.

The novice sat quietly in the main shrine hall, candlelight flickering against the compassionate statue of the Buddha. He silently vowed: “From now on, I will live with discretion, needing no one to acknowledge me. I only wish to do good deeds, keep my mind pure, disregard fame and profit, and stop seeking admiration from others.” He smiled, his heart light as if a heavy burden had been lifted. He understood that true happiness lies not in praise or reputation, but in inner peace.

**The Meaning of the Story**

This story teaches us about the virtue of discretion—not boasting about our own merits. When we realize we are not important, we cease talking about ourselves and stop seeking admiration from others. Boasting is a manifestation of pride, a dangerous illness that distances us from morality. Let us live peacefully, doing good deeds without needing recognition, for true happiness comes from inner tranquility, not from praise or fame.

Compiled from the dharma talk by Most Venerable Thich Chan Quang