whose fault is it anyway?

a story from d's buddha book (an excellent little thing to keep in the bathroom fyi)

"There's another story that you may have read that has to do with what we call heaven and hell, life and death, good and bad. It's a story about how those things don't really exist except as a creation of our own minds. It goes like this: A big burly samurai comes to the wise man and says, 'Tell me the nature of heaven and hell.' And the roshi looks him in the face and says: 'Why should I tell a scruffy, disgusting, miserable slob like you?' The samurai starts to get purple in the face, his hair starts to stand up, but the roshi won't stop, he keeps saying, 'A miserable worm like you, do you think I should tell you anything?' Consumed by rage, the samurai draws his sword, and he's just about to cut off the head of the roshi. Then the roshi says, 'That's hell.' The samurai, who is in fact a sensitive person, instantly gets it, that he just created his own hell; he was deep in hell. It was black and hot, filled with hatred, self-protection, anger and resentment, so much so that he was going to kill this man. Tears fill his eyes and he starts to cry and he puts his palms together and the roshi says, 'That's heaven.'

from "Awakening Loving-Kindness" by Pema Chodron pp 65-6

you don't have power over anyone else, well you should not. perhaps it works better to say you do not have power over anyone else's heart, only over your own. there is no way to avoid pain, but perhaps there are ways to heal. am i brave enough to try any of them out?