Most Replayed Moment: Buddhist Monk Reveals How To Break Free From Pain and Anger!

Before we dive in, a quick scene-setter: I’m obsessed with fast Wi‑Fi because moving hours of studio footage is mission‑critical for us, especially as we build out the new L.A. space. With that, earlier you mentioned Buddhism’s idea of emptiness; how does that sit with identity, victimhood, and the stories we build around our pain?

We cling to the past, but Buddhism invites us back to the present and loosens the grip by showing that things, including identity, aren’t as solid as they look. When we see that reality is more like a constructed appearance than a fixed block, our reactivity softens and we suffer less.

We all carry grief, heartbreak, and small daily stings; how do we drop that weight?

I learned to stop chasing the story and work directly with the feeling, a lesson forged during a four‑year retreat where I hit panic, climbed the wall to leave, then chose to return after a week in a caravan because I knew running would not heal me.

Why go back if it hurt that much?

Because I believed the methods could turn pain into a doorway, and I wanted to quit from clarity, not from a panic attack.

Most of us bolt from discomfort and try to start over somewhere else, but it follows us.

You can’t outrun yourself, so I made the pain my meditation, moved toward the ‘knife’ without judgment, and practiced deep acceptance that felt more like compassion than resignation. Attending to the raw bodily sensation steadied me, eased the stress chemistry, and taught me a new kind of happiness that comes from being okay with not being okay, like holding a tiny injured animal with care instead of self‑attack.

When you pictured that wounded bird, how did you feel about it?

Love arose for that part of me as I stayed with the sensation kindly, and it wasn’t egoic praise, just honest gentleness.

How does this meet grief, like when you lost your closest teacher?

When my teacher and best friend was murdered, the nights were fire—grief, anger, bewilderment—until the practice clicked and I poured warmth into that inner blaze, which calmed me enough to keep going and opened the door to forgiveness. I see that as his last gift, because the method he taught carried me through his death.

What exactly is the practice—are there set phrases?

No mantras are required; you find the sensation, rest attention there, and bathe it in compassion, trusting that our mind’s baseline is kindness, not aggression. It’s like holding your own hand in a storm until the edges melt and a quiet strength appears.

Did you forgive the man who killed him?

Yes, and knowing he was psychotic made it clearer, though forgiveness is never easy.

Many of us cling to grudges as our sense of justice.

A grudge burns the holder like gripping heated iron, so forgiveness is not surrender but strength that frees you, and meditation helps loosen the glue of rage.

Have you forgiven people tied to your early traumas and neglect?

For me it’s a process, and I’m close with them now, but the real shift was forgiving the feelings those events left and using that suffering as compost for growth while imagining life from their eyes, which softens blame without excusing harm.

Listeners will still say, that person is just awful.

We all act from confusion, so the point isn’t to condone but to see limits clearly and release the story enough to be free.

That was a most‑replayed moment; the full episode is linked below, and thanks for listening—and yes, we’re still hunting for the fastest Wi‑Fi as we finish the new L.A. studio.