This Is the Real Cause of Your Stress | A Buddhist Story on Anxiety

This Is the Real Cause of Your Stress | A Buddhist Story on Anxiety (https://moviesphilosophy.com/this-is-...)



Hey there, friends! Welcome back to Life Philosophy, the podcast where we dive deep into the stories, struggles, and wisdom that shape our lives. I’m your host, and today, I’ve got a tale for you that’s as raw as it is transformative—a story about a small-town merchant, his battle with addiction, and a profound lesson delivered by a wise monk under the shade of an ancient tree. So, grab a cozy spot, maybe a warm cup of tea, and let’s journey together into this heartfelt narrative.

Picture a quaint little village, nestled between rolling hills and golden fields, where life moves at a slower pace. In this village lived a merchant named Arjun. He wasn’t a big shot by any means—just a humble trader with a small shop selling grains and spices. But Arjun had a shadow that followed him everywhere: a crippling addiction to alcohol. Every evening, after shutting his shop, he’d stumble into the local tavern, and by nightfall, he’d be a different man—angry, loud, and reckless. He’d pick fights with neighbors, hurl insults at passersby, and return home to a family drowning in tension and tears. His wife, Meera, bore the brunt of it all. She watched helplessly as her husband’s health deteriorated, his business crumbled, and their home turned into a battlefield of unspoken pain.

Now, Arjun wasn’t blind to the mess he’d created. Deep down, he knew his drinking was the root of his troubles. His shop, once bustling with customers, was now avoided by villagers who’d grown tired of his drunken outbursts. “I’ve tried to quit,” he’d grumble to anyone who dared bring it up. “But it’s not me holding onto this habit—this habit has a grip on me!” His words were laced with frustration, but also a kind of resignation, as if he’d already surrendered to his demons.

Meera, though, wasn’t ready to give up on him. She worried endlessly about his health, about their children who deserved a peaceful home, and about the man she once knew—kind, hardworking, and full of dreams. One day, a whisper of hope reached her ears. A wise monk, known as Bodh Bhikshu, had arrived in the village. They said he was a man of deep insight, someone who could unravel life’s toughest knots with just a few words. Desperate for a miracle, Meera convinced Arjun to visit the monk, and together, they made their way to the quiet grove where Bodh Bhikshu was staying.

The monk, with his calm demeanor and piercing eyes, listened as they poured out their story. Arjun’s voice trembled as he admitted, “I’ve lost everything to this habit, Maharaj. My family, my respect, my livelihood... but I can’t seem to let it go.” Bodh Bhikshu nodded silently, as if peering into the depths of Arjun’s soul. After a long pause, he said, “Go now, both of you. Return tomorrow morning, and I will help you find your way.”

The next day, as the sun peeked over the horizon, Arjun and Meera arrived at the grove, only to find a peculiar sight. The wise monk was standing by a massive banyan tree, his arms wrapped tightly around its trunk. Confused, Arjun asked, “Maharaj, what are you doing? Why are you holding onto this tree?” Bodh Bhikshu, with a faint smile, replied, “Come back tomorrow, and I’ll tell you everything.” And so, they did. But the next morning, there he was again, clinging to the same tree. This strange ritual continued for an entire week. Each day, the couple would arrive, hoping for answers, only to be told, “Come back tomorrow.”

By the seventh day, Arjun’s patience was wearing thin. He couldn’t hold back anymore. “Maharaj, please! Why won’t you let go of this tree? What is the meaning of this?” Bodh Bhikshu, still gripping the trunk, sighed dramatically and said, “What can I do, my friend? I want to let go, but this tree won’t release me. It has me in its grasp!” Arjun burst into laughter, shaking his head. “Maharaj, with all due respect, the tree isn’t holding you—you’re holding the tree! You can let go whenever you choose.”

At that moment, Bodh Bhikshu’s expression turned serious. He released the tree, stepped forward, and looked Arjun square in the eye. “My dear friend, for seven days, I’ve been trying to show you this simple truth. Just as I chose to hold this tree, you have chosen to hold onto your habit of drinking. It’s not the habit that grips you—it’s you who grips the habit. And just as I can let go of this tree whenever I decide, you, too, can release your addiction the moment you truly choose to.”

Those words hit Arjun like a thunderbolt. For the first time, he saw his struggle not as an unbreakable chain, but as a choice—a choice he had the power to make. The weight of responsibility settled on his shoulders, but it wasn’t a burden. It was liberating. He realized he wasn’t a victim of his habit; he was its creator. And if he created it, he could uncreate it too.

Now, let’s pause here for a m...