The predicament

There were once two young women who were both chefs. One set aside time each day for meditation. We’ll call her the noble disciple. The other sister didn’t meditate. We’ll call her the ordinary unlearned chef. One day both women had a tricky lunch in the kitchen. Both chefs had feedback from a customer (in their respective restaurants) that the food they’d prepared was inedible. Both chefs felt a pang of physical pain when the waiter returned the offending plate of food to the kitchen. The ordinary unlearned chef’s day was spoiled; she ruminated, judged, felt angry with the customer and angry with herself for feeling angry. She told herself that this was the kind of thing which always happened to her. She wished she was elsewhere, anywhere, but perhaps especially on holiday. She ate chocolate. The ordinary unlearned chef felt two pains: the physical pain and the mental anguish. She was like a person who has been struck by an arrow, only to be struck by a second one. The noble disciple’s day was unspoiled by the feedback. She felt physical pain and tended to it. The sensation of the physical pain within her throbbed, and then dissolved. She felt a tender kindness towards herself for experiencing pain. Her attention moved to the next task of her day.

This is my retelling of the parable of ‘The Arrow’ from the Pali Suttas, the texts believed to be records of the Buddha’s teachings.

It’s not unusual to behave like the ordinary unlearned chef and just not feel very much empathy towards ourselves. This is, though, a relationship we can work at. We can work at seeing ourselves as worthy of compassion, and we can work at relating to ourselves as we would relate towards a loved friend. We can work at getting in touch with a compassion for ourselves in our human predicament.

I like how the poet Danusha Laméris captures this human predicament:

What a blessing to be alive, we say

knowing this life is so unlikely, so near impossible

that it is a blessing to be born at all,

to come into this world wailing,

covered in blood.

(excerpt from Danusha Laméris’ poem ‘To Bless’)

By some miracle we arrive on this planet: it is improbable, and might not have happened, but here we find ourselves, and it is not easy. We ‘come in to this world wailing/covered in blood’ and things continue, more or less, as they’ve started: with suffering and the pain of existing.

Perhaps this is sounding bleak? If it is, then can we get hold of some sense of pity for the humans? Life can be a tough gig. Loss is built in to the offering: we can’t escape sorrow, disappointment or grief. We are made out of fabric which ages and eventually ceases to work.

Laméris allows us to see ourselves from a bit of a distance - something which psychotherapy also allows. Seen from a distance, the task of relating to our own pains with warmth becomes more possible and we can become more like the noble disciple who is saved the pain of the second arrow.

Oenone Crossley-Holland

February 2026