Arin was a man who took pride in living an honest life in the quiet town of Elderwood. His days were filled with simple routines—helping neighbors and spending evenings relaxing with a book or by the fire. Life, for the most part, treated him well. But one year, a series of small but persistent frustrations began to disrupt his peace.
The first frustration came after an ordinary evening at the local pub. Arin had parked his car in the pub’s designated customer parking area, as he had many times before. He enjoyed his time at the pub, chatting with old friends, and left without a second thought. A week later, however, he received a letter in the mail—a parking ticket for “illegal parking,” instructing him to pay a 50% of the fine within 14 days. If not paid within 14 days, he would need to pay the full amount. Arin was stunned. He hadn’t parked illegally, and he hadn’t kept his receipt, certain there was no need to prove his visit.
Frustrated, he called the parking authority to contest the fine. “I was a customer,” Arin insisted. “I parked in the designated area.” But the response was indifferent. “Do you have proof of your purchase on the day?” the officer asked. Without the receipt, Arin had no way to contest the fine effectively.
That night, Arin tossed and turned, his thoughts consumed by the unfairness of it all. He hadn’t done anything wrong, yet here he was, penalised for an innocent action.
A few weeks later, another frustration emerged. Arin had decided to switch energy suppliers for his home. The old one had become too expensive. After notifying the supplier, he believed everything was settled. But soon after, he received an unexpected bill from his old supplier, claiming he still owed them for another month of service and penalty for leaving the contract early.
Arin’s patience was thin. He called, hoping to resolve the matter quickly. But after being transferred through several departments, he was met with the same dismissive response: “It’s just how our billing system works. You’ll need to pay the outstanding amount.”
Frustration bubbled over again. “But I’ve already switched suppliers! I’ve done everything I’m supposed to do!” he snapped, but it was no use. Arin felt his stress mounting, unable to escape the feeling that life was throwing one injustice after another at him.
The final blow came when Arin tried to contact a friend to whom he had lent money months ago. His friend had fallen on hard times, and Arin had been happy to help, believing his friend would repay him when things improved. But when Arin needed the money back, his calls went unanswered. Days turned into weeks, and his texts received no replies. Growing concerned, Arin tried calling from another number, only to find that his friend had blocked him entirely.
Betrayal stung deeper than any fine or bill. Arin had trusted his friend, and now that trust was shattered. The sting of rejection and dishonesty hit him hard, and he felt the weight of it pressing down on his already burdened mind.
By this point, Arin’s stress had turned into a storm. He was no longer the calm, thoughtful man his friends in Elderwood knew. He became irritable, snapping at people over the smallest inconveniences. His once peaceful life now felt filled with tension, and he found himself consumed by the need to solve every problem immediately. Sleep became elusive, and his mind raced constantly, trying to fix everything at once.
Feeling overwhelmed, Arin decided to visit the old man by the stream—a man known for his unshakable calm and wisdom. The people of Elderwood often sought him out when life felt too heavy, and Arin hoped to find some clarity there.
When Arin arrived, the old man was sitting by the flowing stream, watching the water glide gently over the rocks.
“I’ve come for advice,” Arin said, his voice tight with frustration. “I’ve been fined unfairly, billed wrongly, and betrayed by a friend. I feel like the world is against me. What can I do?”
The old man looked up, his expression serene. “Ah, life has placed some obstacles in your path,” he said softly.
Arin frowned. “Obstacles?”
The old man nodded and gestured toward the stream. “Look at the water. See how it flows over the rocks? It doesn’t stop or fight against them. Instead, it finds its way around, continuing on its journey. The rocks don’t block its path—they simply become part of it.”
Arin stared at the water, his mind still racing. “But I can’t just ignore my problems. I need to deal with them.”
The old man smiled. “I’m not asking you to ignore them. But when you try to fight every problem head-on, you become like a river crashing against rocks. The more you resist, the more turbulent your life becomes. Instead, accept that some obstacles are there. Pause. Then find a way forward with patience.”
Arin was silent for a moment, turning the words over in his mind. “But what if it’s unfair? Like the parking fine, or my friend blocking me when I need help?”
“Justice is important,” the old man said. “But if you hold onto the need for everything to be perfectly fair, you’ll become trapped in your expectations. You’ve appealed the fine, and you’ve reached out to your friend. Beyond that, it’s out of your control. Do your best, and then release your grip on the outcome.”
The old man stood up, gesturing for Arin to walk with him along the stream.
“As for your friend, trust is fragile. Once broken, it may never be the same. But holding onto your anger will only harm you. Speak your truth, and if he doesn’t honour that, learn from it and move on. Don’t let one betrayal close your heart.”
As they walked beside the stream, Arin felt his frustrations begin to ease. The rocks in his path hadn’t disappeared, but they no longer seemed insurmountable.
“Life will always have obstacles,” the old man continued. “Some you can solve, others you can’t. The key to peace is knowing when to act and when to let go. Be like the water—flow where you can, and let the rocks be part of the journey, not the end of it.”
Arin looked out at the stream, the gentle flow offering a sense of calm. The obstacles in his life hadn’t vanished, but the weight of them had lessened. For the first time in weeks, he felt he could rest.
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