You know the story, but perhaps not the ending.

You’re fishing at dawn, or maybe you’re just paddling in your canoe. Suddenly, your peace is disturbed by the sight and sound of a small motorboat heading from across the mirrored lake in your direction. Initially you ignore it, but it keeps up its speed and its line of travel.

As it gets closer, you start with a friendly wave, and then a panicked one of fear. “Stop,” you yell loudly. “Can’t you see me?” “Hey, you, you’re going to hit me.” “What the hell is wrong with you?” “You’re going to kill me.” “I’m reporting you.” “Asshole.”

Finally, you give up the right to be where you are, paddle away, and flip the bird as the boat passes. But there is no driver. The boat is loose and running on its own. It just happens to have been headed in your direction.

The lessons I learned from the story the first time I heard it were that I should be slow to judgment, that it’s not about me, I can get out of the way, everyone has a story and it’s often not the one you expect. 

The person who cut in front of me at high speed maybe was heading to the hospital for his daughter’s delivery. The person on the phone when the light turned green maybe was hearing that their young son had fallen out of a tree and broken his arm. Who knows? I don’t.

And then I thought this week, “What if I’m the boat heading towards me?” I just want to be left alone but my peace is disturbed. Initially, I’m friendly to myself and then I get agitated. “Can’t you see what you’re doing?” “Slow down.” “Stop!” “What the hell is wrong with you?” “Asshole.” Flip the bird.

Sometimes we learn the boat is there to save us from what we now notice is a sinking canoe. Sometimes it just wants us to learn how to move out of the way. Maybe it’s there to help us confront our judgment, assuming the worst, and our foolishness. 

Why do we get so angry so quickly? The initial smile turned into confusion, judgment, panic, resentment, defensiveness.

If we allow that the person on the phone at the light has a possible reason for not moving, why are we so hard on ourselves? Why do we call ourselves “stupid?” Why do we get so angry with ourselves? “Asshole.”

Maybe we should laugh with ourselves at ourselves. Maybe we should paddle away and try to get back to our serenity, focussing on something beautiful. Maybe we should quit the meanness to ourselves.

How about we make the choice to climb into the other boat, leaving behind the stuff that will sink us?