Àwọn Àmì-ìwé Tí A Fẹ̀

When I was younger,” the monk began, “I believed pain was my enemy. I tried to avoid it, run from it, even hide from it. But the more I resisted pain, the more it followed me.” He picked up a small stone from the ground and held it in his hand. “Pain,” he said, “is like this stone. Life will place it in your hand—through loss, failure, rejection, or disappointment. That part… you cannot control