There was a great Indian teacher and master of Buddhism in the 10th century. His name was Atisha, and he is credited for bringing Buddhism to Tibet - and why lineages like those of the Dalai Lamas and Karmapas exist.
Atisha was renowned as the greatest living scholar, adherent and mentor in the teachings of the Middle Way. However, when it was time for him to go to Tibet, he heard many stories about the Tibetans - mostly that they were warm, earthy, patient, kind - and so he was afraid that they wouldn't push his buttons enough. So he decided to bring along a special guest. His little servant, who history remembers as the Bengali tea boy (Atisha was from Bengal, modern-day Bangladesh).
The Bengali tea boy was ill-tempered, annoying and just really drove Atisha nuts, presumably with his little sass mouth. So Atisha decided he had better bring the tea boy along, lest he become lax in his practice of patience or wain in his spiritual focus.
Well, ironically, he found the barbaric culture of warriors who awaited him in Tibet not in the least as ideal as he had feared, and so really had no need of the bratty little tea boy. The story of Atisha goes on, but for me this particular episode in his life is inspiring on a number of levels for my own practice.
Atisha, an accomplished and revered master, was still fully aware he had blind spots. He knew he wasn't perfect - and he admitted it. But he also knew he had a tendency to get lazy or feel like some kind of expert, so he made sure someone he couldn't stand was always there by his side to keep him on his toes, spiritually speaking. To make sure his ego was kept in check.
It is so helpful (when I can remember to do it!) to think of those annoying and seemingly psycho people that it feels so justifiable putting in the "Permanent Idiot Column" as little Bengali tea boys who have been specifically engineered to light my personal short fuses. As the mind-training slogan says, "Every situation is the perfect teacher." So it's almost like the whole universe has come together each moment to give us exactly the things we need; if that thing happens to be taken down off our pedestal a bit (for our own good) the universe gives us a manipulative co-worker or nosy mailman on whom to practice patience or understanding.
Now, this is not to say that no one in our lives ever means us harm or should be allowed to inflict constant pain on others. I think what the story is pointing out is the Habit of our reaction when we feel taken down from our pedestal, for me self-defensiveness and anger. Someone stepped on my foot and made me hop around like an idiot in pain? Well now I'll step on theirs! Take that!
In its most extreme forms, this tit-for-tat vengeful behaviour can turn into a war. Buddhist teachings about defensiveness and anger ask the question what are our other options? Can we forgive? Can we realize it was an accident? What else is there besides our own feelings of justification and anger?
Considering the difficult people in our lives in the slightly positive light of the Bengali tea boy not only takes some of the charge out of our anger, it also opens us up to grow. Because if we can at least be willing to work with the frustration, the blind spots that they point out (every chance they flippin' get) then it gives us the opportunity to really honestly examine ourselves and maybe learn a little bit about our own habits as well.
And through that knowledge, maybe we get a little space of liberation and relief. Plus, nothing pisses menacing tea boys off like smiling patiently right through one of their crazy episodes of drama entitled "me me me time" starring Me as Me. The best revenge is to be happy and have good life! Take that! (I'm still working on it)
