In a quiet village nestled among forested hills, there lived an old monk known for his unwavering calm and gentle presence. People came from far and wide to sit with him, to hear his stories, or simply to rest in the stillness he seemed to carry with him like a warm cloak.
One morning, as the monk swept the temple courtyard, a young man stormed through the gates. His face was tight with anger, his words sharp and fast. He shouted insults, accused the monk of hypocrisy, called him a fraud, a fool, a coward. He’d come expecting a fight, or at least a reaction.
But the monk just kept sweeping, his movements steady, his breath easy. He looked up only once, eyes calm, and then returned to his work. The young man grew louder, more intense. He waved his arms, pointed fingers, and hurled every bitter word he could find.
Finally, his voice raw and spent, the young man paused. The monk set down his broom, walked over to him, and said softly:
“May I ask you something?”
The man, caught off guard, nodded.
The monk smiled gently.
“If someone offers you a gift, and you choose not to accept it — who does the gift belong to?”
The man blinked. “Well… to the one who offered it, I suppose.”
The monk nodded.
“Yes. And so it is with your anger. I see that you are hurting, that something in you needs to be heard. But I do not accept your gift of rage or blame. It is yours. I wish you peace with it.”
The young man stood there, silent. For the first time, the fire in his chest began to cool. No one had ever met his fury with such kindness, such clarity. Something inside him softened—a part that had been yelling for years just to be seen.
And in the silence that followed, he heard something he hadn’t heard in a long time.
His own breath.
His own heart.
His own longing to feel peace again.
Reflections
We don’t always get to choose how others show up. But we do get to choose how we respond, what we let in, and what we return to the earth.
Not every gift is meant for us to carry.
And sometimes, the most powerful thing we can do—for ourselves and for others—is to stay rooted in compassion and simply not take it in.
The Monk and The Gift of Anger:
A story about not taking in what isn’t yours:
🧘♀️ IFS Exploration Prompt: “What Am I Taking In?”
Take a moment to settle into your body. Feel the contact of your feet on the ground, your body supported by the chair or cushion. Let your breath arrive just as it is — no need to change it.
Now bring to mind a recent time when someone offered you a “gift” you didn’t want—maybe it was anger, blame, criticism, or a judgment that didn’t feel fair.
When you remember that moment:
Notice what parts of you show up.
Is there a part that takes it in quickly, like a sponge?
Is there a part that tries to fight back or defend?
Is there a part that feels small, hurt, or ashamed?
Ask inside, gently:
“What does this part fear might happen if I don’t take it in?”
“What is this part trying to protect me from?”
Now, invite your curious, compassionate Self to be present with these parts.
You might imagine your Self sitting beside a younger part.
Let that part know: “You don’t have to carry what isn’t ours.”
Notice how it responds to your presence.
If it feels right, you might even visualize placing that “unwanted gift” on the ground. You could imagine the earth receiving it. Or let it float down a river.
Ask your parts:
“What would it feel like if we didn’t have to take that in anymore?”
“What do you need from me now?”