12/17/2025
I wanted to tell you one of my absolute favorite stories: A woman is at a beautiful lakeside retreat center, grateful to finally have time and space for quiet reflection. During some downtime, she takes a canoe out onto the small lake. She rows a hundred feet or so, sets down her paddles, closes her eyes, and breathes in the fresh air, feeling the warmth of the sun on her face.
As she exhales the burdens she’s been carrying, she suddenly hears the loud crack of wood colliding and her boat rocks hard. Her eyes remain closed, but irritation and anger rush in instantly.
Why would someone row so close to her? There’s no way they couldn’t see she was trying to meditate. How careless, rude, or self-absorbed. She finally finds peace and even here someone ruins it. This is just like…
Still narrating internally, she feels another bump and snaps her eyes open, ready to confront the selfish person who disrupted her.
But in front of her floats an empty boat.
She immediately understands what happened: the canoe she untied had been holding this one in place. When she loosened hers, the empty boat drifted free and bumped into her.
As she takes this in, her anger dissolves. She laughs—at the situation and at her reaction.
What’s revealed in that moment is how deeply our reactions are tied to the intentions we assign to events. When she believed another person was responsible, she felt anger and offense. When there was no one to blame, her emotional experience shifted completely.
This story is my adaptation of an old Sufi parable. It illustrates this truth: our experience of anything is shaped by the stories we tell about it. Sometimes those stories align with reality; often they don’t. Either way, they shape how we feel—and how we respond.
We react to a partner not saying hello, a curt cashier, a distracted teacher or coworker, based on what we believe it means. This doesn’t mean we shouldn’t have feelings or that our reactions are wrong. The woman might still have felt fear when her boat rocked—that wasn’t about intention.
But it can be powerful to notice the stories we’re telling when emotions run strong. So often we do this with only part of the picture—our eyes closed. And when we open them, we might just see an empty boat.