Blame and retribution, a better way?

The heatwave continues. Seven-Thirty in the morning is a good time to sit in the garden, meditate a while, think good things, before the heat rises. (It's already 80F /27C.) Thoughts drift around, settling for a while here and there, like the new flock of young bluejays: playful, fitful, restless. And then some concentration, some problem to solve. If not to solve to give some attention, discover some insight.
Blame, vengeance, payback—incongruous ideas in the morning stillness. Yet, here is where the early morning thoughts come to rest. Rather than fight or repress or move on I sit with the ideas a while.
It seems to be the human lot. As they say, "shit happens," and when it does someone needs to be blamed, someone has to carry the can. An eye for an eye seems to scratch a primitive urge to hurt the other. Something to do with the amygdala, apparently. But to name is not to explain. Family life too easily falls into the swamp of mutual blame and recrimination. Politics on both right and left is mostly about who is to blame for whatever problem is under discussion. Popularism is all about finding the scapegoat to blame for the mess (whatever the mess may be) and baying for retribution. "Lock her up," "Send her back," spring readily to mind. The primitive urge is pacified for a while after the shouting. But the mess remains, and, like the morning heat rising inexorably in my garden, the primitive urge rises to find someone to blame, someone to hurt, someone to give a fleeting sense of satisfaction. "Broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it," said Jesus. He had a point.
I consult the Yijing. Why the blame? Why the thirst for blood? And the Sage turns me inward. The Dao (Jesus' narrow way) is often to wait. Not jumping in, not second guessing, not leaping to conclusions. Return to courteousness and friendliness. Maintain inner integrity. No inner compromise. If friendliness is beyond you, simply withdraw. Take care of yourself. In time things will improve. The Sage is always wise.
In the garden, not a leaf is moving. Utter stillness. Then there's the bluejays ...
Peace to all,
+Ab. Andy