The days at the monastery are dynamic. Classes, lectures, conversations, and reflections set the tone for each period of study. Providing diverse content through different methods is intended to foster self-discovery, the fundamental step toward every evolutionary transformation. Until you know yourself more deeply and more fully, there will be no way to understand the person who needs to cease to exist in order to make room for someone who needs to emerge within you. It is fascinating. Yet this does not happen all at once. Nor does it happen by magic. It happens gradually. Every small advance is the result of great effort. Discoveries inspire inner achievements. Achievements demand even greater dedication, yet they carry with them the power to transform reality. The world remains the same. What changes is the way we see and the way we conduct ourselves in relation to ourselves, everything, and everyone. Life expands in flavour, lightness, and possibilities.
I was attending the advanced course on the complexity of the obsessive process, on harmful influences driven by conflicting ideas and dense feelings arising from behavioural vices. I had designed this course myself several years earlier and had been responsible for it for quite some time. Later, I was transferred to other activities. Franz had taken over the course ever since. As a method of supervision and oversight, the Elder, as we affectionately called the monastery’s eldest monk, asked us to attend a few classes from each of the courses currently underway. Although there had never been any quarrel or argument between us, there was an unmistakable distance between Franz and me. Despite our polite and courteous relationship, our friendship had never deepened. Sometimes that happens, and there is nothing wrong with it. For no apparent reason, I had the feeling that there was an unspoken rivalry on his part. Very dedicated, he had an undeniable talent for teaching and conveying ideas. He was considered one of the Order’s finest teachers.
Everything seemed fine until, at a certain point in the class, Franz made a subtle reference to an aspect of the lecture I had delivered the previous day, suggesting that my words contained a serious conceptual error. The problem was that he had taken the sentence out of context, placing it within a scenario entirely different from the one in which I had originally used it. Indirectly, he insinuated that the lecture had been a waste of time for those who had attended it. As if that were not enough, when a young monk praised him for the content of the classes, Franz declared himself the author of the course, claiming that its preparation had cost him countless days of research. This was untrue, since the course remained exactly as I had designed it nearly a decade earlier.
Irritation poisoned my insides. In earlier times, I would have interrupted the class to correct the error, demand respect, and redress the offense. There would have been an argument. A conflict would have begun. Yet an intemperate reaction would have done nothing to ease my anger. Actions rooted in hatred or resentment are almost always manifestations of vengeance, even when unconscious. We leave the light to walk among the shadows. We feel terrible. The argument that we were provoked is of no use. Just like you and me, people live according to what they know and what they are capable of. Insisting on changing others or forcing them to admit their mistakes is an exercise typical of fools. No one changes to please someone else, nor do people confess their mistakes when they are incapable of recognizing them. We change when something within us no longer fits the person we wish to become. Until that happens, everything will remain as it is.
Furthermore, no one puts hatred, envy, or jealousy inside anyone else. Whatever the feeling may be, it has always existed within us. Provocation merely brings it to the surface. In this case, since the feelings are mine, denying my responsibility for whatever damage they may cause is an act of immaturity. Another person’s behaviour will or will not have the power to provoke uncontrolled reactions within me, depending on whether I master my emotions or they master me. This is why reactions, far more than actions, reveal where we stand in the evolutionary process. They can serve to strengthen emotional balance or provoke recklessness and fury. For this and other reasons, self-knowledge is a determining factor in spiritual evolution. The latter cannot proceed without the former.
Many people try to justify their own imbalance with the supposed need to demand respect. Without question, respect is an invaluable aspect of self-esteem. It is one of the pillars of dignity. Yet what few people realize is that respect is an inward attitude, one that preserves values and principles. Even when offended, a person can maintain an attitude of respect, without retaliation or conflict. Quite often, someone who becomes agitated over a supposed lack of respect and reacts aggressively does so out of pride and vanity. There will be nothing respectful about a reaction of that kind.
Not only criticism and insults, but praise as well can generate disrespectful reactions when they are biased, obscure, or self-serving, serving to manipulate another’s will or the truth. Respect means acting and reacting in such a way as to remain centred within one’s own axis of light. Thus, what other people do or fail to do does not matter. Respect, above all, is an inward act of coherence with the truth one has attained and the virtues one has acquired. Simplicity and moderation are self-respect; arrogance and conceit are vices that are disrespectful in themselves. Demanding respect is another practice common among fools.
There is no way to prevent unwanted emotions from arising. Yet it is possible to prevent them from embittering, dominating, and manipulating us. No one feels better after acting like someone who has stumbled over their own heart. The consequences are unpleasant. The responsibility for who I am and how I move through my days is mine alone. No one else’s. I have no grounds for lament or complaint. Accepting this truth is not only an act of maturity, but also restores my power over who I am and over my life. Accepting, welcoming, and properly naming emotions is an important stage in the journey of self-knowledge, for they carry valuable messages about who we are not yet, revealing aspects of ourselves that require inner reconstruction. When I push consciousness aside and surrender command to my emotions, I place myself at the mercy of situations in the world, circumstances in life, and the actions of other people. I feel fragile and unbalanced. This distances me from peace. Whoever determines my behaviour and my choices will also determine my character and my destiny.
In that episode, I chose silence. Especially because, on another occasion, I had reacted stormily to one of Franz’s provocations. At the time, I was left with the impression that he had taken pleasure in my loss of control. Although silence is invaluable, it is not always the best response. Sometimes there is a need to express oneself. There are a thousand good ways of doing so, without ever abandoning serenity, clarity, and concision. Serenity so that there may be listening, clarity so that the idea may be understood, and concision so that an excess of words does not weaken the power of the arguments. A short sentence, when well placed, preferably in the form of a question, can serve as a mirror for an intemperate interlocutor.
It is worth remembering that irony and sarcasm are disguised manifestations of violence, sometimes used for attack, sometimes for defence, and should therefore be avoided. Another fundamental aspect of respect concerns arguments. They should remain solely within the realm of ideas. Pointing out flaws and behavioural vices in another person demonstrates an inability to reason and argue at a high level. Those who respect themselves debate ideas, never a person’s character. Aggression and vengeance pull those who employ them away from their axis of light, even when they do so under the illusion of preserving their honour or imposing respect. Not doing to others what we would not want them to do to us is the central pillar of dignity.
Even so, I was deeply upset. The irritation refused to leave. The scene of what had happened dominated my mind. I could not push it from my thoughts. I slept poorly that night. It was still before dawn when I decided to get up. I went to the kitchen in search of a mug of coffee. Perhaps keeping my mind occupied with chores would help me forget what had happened. I sat near the windows to admire the stars. I was surprised by the Elder, as we affectionately called the monastery’s eldest monk. Upon entering the dining hall, he poured himself a mug of coffee and sat at the table with me. Without asking me anything, as though he knew what was troubling me, he remarked, “Self-knowledge has brought you this far, but what you already know about yourself will not take you any farther. You will need to discover more”.
I asked what the good monk meant. The Elder did not mince words. “There is undeniable merit in not exploding with anger. Yet by allowing yourself to implode because of the provocation, you revealed how far you still have to travel. Emotions are cunning. While you protected yourself from an undesirable reaction, the emotion demolished you in another way. Do not waste the message it carries”.
It was true. I asked whether I had been wrong to remain silent. The Elder replied, “I did not say that, but neither did I say otherwise. Silence is a tool for those who know how to use it. It helps build marvellous works. The most important achievements are enveloped and driven by silence. Yet when misunderstood, over time and little by little, it can become a harmful instrument for erasing one’s own personality. It can become a form of escape, fear, or lack of self-esteem, an act of disrespect toward oneself. One must be careful”. The good monk continued, “For silence to serve as an instrument of movement, it requires composure, firmness, and understanding. It is an attitude of courage and self-mastery, never a gesture of submission or shrinking before something or someone. Although the outward mechanics may appear similar, the inner construction is entirely different”.
He furrowed his brow and added, “Silence is perfect when one understands that a response in words is unnecessary. There is so much foolishness and incoherence in the accusation that no words could alter the imbalance within the accuser. Then it falls to the eyes to refute the absurdity of the arguments, since the other person is in no condition to listen to any reasoning. In many situations, silence has the power to dismantle the arena by revealing the senselessness of the duel. A sword drawn in aggression shames the gladiator when he finds himself facing a monk at peace with himself. Silence will reveal to the opponent the unpleasant truth of degrading behaviour”.
I argued that, although I understood silence had been the best response to Franz’s provocation, I did not know why it had left me feeling so bad. The Elder explained, “There are several aspects that need to be considered. It is natural that when we are attacked, we are overcome by some degree of irritation. After all, an inner boundary has been crossed. Someone has gone somewhere within us where they were not authorized to go. Let us understand this emotion not as a warning to retaliate, but as a signal that we must not allow the intruder to place us where they want us to remain. In general, since this is not a good place, dark feelings will establish an empire there. Yet although this feeling is a valuable messenger, it is of no use in guiding either our reaction or the inner rearrangement we need to make immediately after the invasion. That would be catastrophic”.
He took a sip of coffee and continued, “By refusing to allow anger to command your reaction, you demonstrated considerable mastery over yourself. Without question, an important step. Yet you allowed anger to guide your emotional realignment. Hatred is a terrible counsellor. Hence the disaster you failed to understand. You prevented the explosion, but without realizing it, you allowed the implosion. This is the point along the road where many people lose their way. They feel miserable, irritable, or discouraged; their thoughts become sluggish, and their hearts grow resentful”.
I asked him to explain further. The Elder was didactic. “Each person can only give what they have. Many repeat this worn-out phrase as though it were a healing mantra. Without question, there is undeniable truth in this concept. Yet for this understanding to serve as an elixir, it is essential to bring forth the virtue that grants it its healing and liberating power. Otherwise, they will be nothing more than wise words spoken by minds devoid of genuine motivation. A car without an engine goes nowhere. Only when propelled by the right feeling does sound knowledge acquire the transformative power of wisdom”.
I asked which virtue he was referring to. The Elder answered immediately, “Compassion”. He placed his mug on the table and explained, “One who acts with compassion possesses a profound understanding of human frailties. It is not a feeling of superiority. That would give wings to pride and vanity. Thus, it would become a shadow. When I speak of compassion, I mean a profound understanding that requires keen perception and refined sensitivity. Authentic compassion is born of humility. Until we recognize our own weaknesses, we will not be capable of using compassion to feel within our own hearts the difficulties of others. Only in this way does compassion become a virtue. Otherwise, a person will quote knowledge without the slightest ability to use it as a tool for growth. Only compassion has the power to dissolve feelings such as hatred, resentment, and others of their kind. To do so, you must understand them as manifestations of a soul that is still immature. This is possible only if your own soul serves as your laboratory and example. Compassion is an indispensable prerequisite for forgiveness. Without the former, the latter can never be attained. Without forgiveness, no one will be free, nor will they ever know peace”.
To emphasize his words, he tapped his index finger on the table and added regarding compassion, “It is a virtue of defence and inner cleansing. To make use of it, you will need to accept that another person’s behaviour was able to pull you away from your axis of light only because you still lack the foundations necessary for the proper maturation of your supporting pillars. When still unripe, truths and virtues lack the strength to sustain consciousness against the inevitable contrary winds of existence”.
I asked about people who insult, attack, and provoke others. The Elder shrugged and commented, “Do not concern yourself with them. Evil, even when it occasionally harms other people, is the possession and responsibility of the one who built the work. Each person will have to take shelter in the dwelling they have built for their own consciousness. The night of time is the same for everyone”.
Then he reminded me, “Every feeling moves within us. The good and the bad. Without exception. Compassion will not be able to prevent anger from arising immediately after an insult or provocation. Yet it will have the strength to prevent that dense emotion from spreading, lingering, and, most importantly, dominating you. Little by little, as you come to know yourself better, you will learn to deal with your emotions more skilfully. In this way, you will be able to shorten the time that the unpleasant feeling remains until it lasts for no more than a fraction of a second. Then no poison will remain spilled within your heart”.
I asked why compassion was so difficult for us when we are so often overcome by hatred and resentment. The Elder summarized the answer in a single word: “Selflessness”. Noticing my questioning expression, he explained, “It is a simple yet powerful virtue, accessible only to those who are already capable of prioritizing spiritual achievements over material ones. It is simple, but it is no small thing. Besides enabling a range of elevated attitudes and choices, the selfless possess a clear understanding of where the true battlefield lies”.
He pointed to his heart and concluded, “The good fight means achieving victory over oneself, never over another person. Overcoming behavioural vices and harmful inclinations, resisting shortcuts and temptations, driving away dark thoughts, rejecting desires for superiority, establishing emotional balance, and doing good regardless of whom it benefits are some examples of victories and achievements of immense value. Drawing light from one’s own shadows defines the true wonders of life. Whoever seeks them in the world will never be satisfied. Whoever finds them within themselves will never thirst again. There is no greater power”.
I asked why we resist so strongly the idea of prioritizing these riches. He winked and whispered as though revealing a secret, “The most important achievements take place in the silence of the heart, the lips, and our actions. Only the selfless and humble are capable of using silence and discretion to move through the world and through life. They have no need to be seen, remembered, or admired. What matters are the inner constructions, silent and invisible to hurried eyes. Our works should bear the mark of anonymity. They devote themselves to the best possible action, to perfecting the spiritual process in complete detachment from external results. Only a few already possess the ability to see what the multitudes are still unable to perceive”.
He emptied his mug of coffee and reminded me, “Deception and illusion bring noise, anxiety, and confusion; nothing seems good. Truth is silent, serene, and welcoming; it brings lucidity, balance, and the strength to move forward”. Then he concluded, “Silence is for those who care more about light than brilliance. True respect shines in a place where many have never been. That is why they do not understand its value”.
I asked whether it might not be appropriate to clarify the authorship of the course or the true meaning of the lecture. The Elder reflected, “Never worry or exhaust yourself trying to convince anyone of the truth. If they come and ask you, be honest and make an effort not to hurt anyone’s feelings. If no one asks, do not concern yourself with seeking a platform from which to clarify matters or tell your version of what happened. What matters is that you know the truth. Simply live the truth in silence. Walking with the truth carries great power within it. It not only frees you from dense feelings and petty emotions, but also from the opinions of others and the validations of the world. Living the truth through sincere and silent joy embodies respect and dignity toward oneself. There is no deeper peace. Believe me, that is enough, and it is no small thing”.
Day was breaking. Some monks began entering the dining hall. We fell silent. Nothing more needed to be said. The Elder smiled, rose, and walked away. He left me with a valuable lesson and an important duty. I took out a small notebook I always carried with me and, with a pencil, scribbled the first paragraph of this text. It contained what would be mine to accomplish until the final day of the endless day. As I placed the ideas upon their proper shelves, I watched the good monk’s footsteps recede into the distance. They were slow, yet steady.
Translated by: Cazmilian Zórdic
