The Second Arrow

Finding Power in Truth

If a person is struck by an arrow, is it painful? 

If the person is struck by a second arrow, is it even more painful?

It is said that the Buddha asked this of a disciple, going on to say that the first arrow may be something that happens to us, and the second arrow is how we think about and respond to the thing that happened. In other words, it’s the story that we tell ourselves.

For years, I understood this to mean that we shouldn’t exaggerate or dramatize, and this is definitely a piece of it. For example, perhaps a coworker makes an offhand remark that you find hurtful. If you tell yourself that this coworker has always disliked you and wants to hurt you, and that is why s/he/they said that, you end up suffering both from the coworker’s supposed ongoing dislike for you and from the hurtfulness of the remark. So, as I understood it, it hurts less if you do not tell yourself stories that make your experiences more painful.

I began to look for examples of this in my mind, and caught myself telling myself stories about nearly everything that happens. As I began to focus on seeing things as they are and not exaggerating, I saw another lesson in this parable– getting our egos involved in whatever has happened.

Looking back at my life, I could see many times in which I attempted to identify with my story. I would think of myself as an animal rescuer, as a biracial woman, as a person who has experienced too much pain and violence and grief, as a writer…

Those are all things that I have experienced or do or descriptors of some facet of me. But none of these comes close to being who I am. I began to observe how I narrate myself in my own mind, noticing the many ways I attached my sense of identity to external labels or experiences. Whether it was seeing myself as an animal rescuer, a biracial woman, or someone who has endured too much pain, I realized that these labels were just stories—attempts by my ego to define who I am. Yet, none of these stories truly captures the essence of me.

This introspection led me to Satya, the practice of seeing the truth clearly and accepting it as it is. Satya is about more than just avoiding exaggeration or minimizing our experiences; it’s about recognizing when our ego is narrating our story and choosing instead to align with the truth. By doing so, we can strip away the layers of self-deception and live more authentically, free from the constraints of our ego-driven narratives.

And I discovered that seeing things clearly was bringing me peace. Having dropped the hiding and the stories and the ego, what I was left with– simply what is– became easier to accept, even if I did not like it. For example, a few months ago, we rescued a lamb who died a short few weeks later. I loved sweet LambieMak so very deeply. And losing him sparked a great deal of grief. By remaining mindful and avoiding the traps of exaggeration, minimization, or overly identifying with this loss, I found exactly what I needed. I could fully acknowledge the legitimate sadness and pain of losing LambieMak while also holding space for the healing that would inevitably follow. In embracing Satya, I learned to grieve with clarity, knowing that life would move on, and so would I.

This commitment to truth also revealed its power in unexpected moments. Just as Satya helped me navigate grief, it also became a source of strength in a very different situation—one involving intimidation and fear. As spring arrived and with it the routine task of graveling the roads around the sanctuary, I encountered another opportunity to apply this lesson.

This is just a normal spring maintenance task for any property this size, and it typically costs us the price of the stone and an employee’s time operating the tractor. Some men stopped by and said they had been redoing nearby roads and had all kinds of leftover stone they wanted to sell and put down for us at a deal. They rushed to begin the work, and when I saw men and equipment arriving, I knew this was not the few hundred dollars project I had expected. I told them to stop the work, and they claimed that I already owed them thousands of dollars for what they had already completed. I spoke to the man that I thought was in charge and told him that I had not authorized that and would not be paying it. Before I knew it, the man and his three brothers were all towering over me, arms folded and glaring at me while they yelled at me threateningly that they would not be leaving without thousands of dollars that I did not have. 

I was terrified. But, happily, I was far enough along in my healing that I recognized my fear and also recognized that they were purposefully intimidating me through their body language. They wanted me to be afraid of them. So, I used the truth to regain my power.

“Sir, you and your brothers are towering over me with intimidating body language. It almost seems as though you hope to frighten me. That can’t be right, can it?”

Immediately, they all took a step back and uncrossed their arms. “No, no, we would never threaten a lady.”

“That’s what I thought. Thank you so much for clarifying,” I smiled up at the men, whose intimidating expressions were variously replaced with confusion, guilt, and stubbornness. The one with a guilty expression gave me an idea.

What they were doing was wrong. That much was obvious by now. They had tried to rush into the job and then intimidate me into paying too much. They probably didn’t want people to know that.

“I’ll tell you what, I don’t have any money to pay you. But what I do have are press contacts and a nonprofit that people love. Why don’t you donate your services? I will give you a tax receipt for the market value of your services plus I will send out a press release about your generosity so that you get lots more business. How does that sound?”

“Uh, that sounds just great. Ok. We have to go.”

“But wait, don’t you want to give me your company name and address, and your names too, for the press release?”

“Yes, absolutely, but we are in a hurry. We will call you with that information.”

I watched their trucks and tractors kick up dirt as they sped down the road, away from the truth.

Satya. Truth. It can give you so much power to see and accept things as they are, and to speak them.

In our journey through life, we will all face moments of pain, loss, and fear—those first arrows that are inevitable. But it is how we respond to these moments, the stories we choose to tell ourselves, that determine whether we are struck by the second arrow. By embracing Satya—seeing and accepting the truth without exaggeration, denial, or ego—we can reclaim our power. We can move beyond the narratives that keep us trapped in suffering and instead transcend our trauma. In doing so, we not only heal ourselves but also create a ripple effect of strength and resilience, empowering others to do the same. The path to peace and power lies in the simple, yet profound, practice of living in truth. It is within our reach to let go of the stories that no longer serve us and step into a life of clarity, courage, and compassion.