Empty Boat
There is a Buddhist story about a monk who wants to find a quiet place to meditate. After failing to find a quiet enough spot, he decides to get in a boat and go out onto the lake. No one else was around so he was sure he would finally be able to have some peace and quiet to meditate.
Then, out of nowhere, he feels something hit his boat. He opens his eyes — furious — and says, “Who disturbed me while I was meditating?!” He was livid that someone would crash into him like that. He was ready to really let this person have it.
The other boat, the one that had hit his, was empty.
What do we learn from this story? Well, I learned that every time I get angry at something outside of me — a person, situation, circumstance — it is not that thing that is what is “making” me angry. It is me doing that. Those are all just empty boats. The anger was already in me, ready at a moment’s notice — or the bump of a boat — to come out, ready for a fight.
It’s my reaction. Every single time.
My friend shared this story with me recently and, since then, I have put a daily reminder in my phone. Every day, at 4p, the words, “Empty Boat” appear on the home screen. And, every time I see them, I laugh out loud.
I have begun using those words as something of a rubber-band-snap-to-the-wrist kind of mantra. In traffic, while walking the dog, when the computer does something funky, whenever I feel the anger rise up — the silly anger, the un-helpful anger — I say, out loud, “Empty boat, empty boat, empty boat. Empty boat, Rachel.” And I start laughing.
It was a moment like this just the other day when I realized that that other boat was not necessarily empty. I know exactly what is in that boat.
My control issues. (how many of you were not the least bit surprised by this?)
Every time the explosions of anger, the name-calling, the ridiculous self-righteous blathering would come out of me, and I would say, “Empty boat,” and then laugh, I noticed that it was because I wasn’t in charge of something that I felt completely capable — and totally worthy — of controlling.
Lousy drivers.
People who don’t pick up after their dogs.
Rudeness.
Not returning shopping carts.
The loud noise my windshield wipers made.
Being interrupted.
As many things could be added to this list as there are moments in the day.
A hair clip fell out of my hair as I was removing my hat. I couldn’t find it. It was stupid, AND, it was a last-straw-moment after several other annoyances had been building up. And as I got ready to scream about it, I said, “WOW! That is a seriously empty boat, Rachel.”
In this season of quarantine, holidays, pressure, weather, isolation, change, and whatever else can be tossed into the basket of December, it seems that in a strange way, I am going to have to pay extra attention to when I seem to be tethering my boat to that empty boat (that is not as empty as I thought).
So attached to wanting things to “be easier” or “run smoother” or be less of all of those things I listed. The more I hold onto the rope that connects me to that empty boat, the less attention I am paying to my own boat (which, at times, needs serious attention!!).
My boat could use some patching up. Some bailing. Some fresh paint.
Some Kindness.
Ah….If my boat could hold a bit more Kindness — to myself and to others — that empty boat would just float on by and away out into the ocean.
I think I just discovered my New Year’s Intention.
2021. Empty Boat Release Year.
