The Empty Boat

Once upon a time, there was a man who absolutely loved peace and quiet. Like, if peace and quiet were a pie, he would have eaten the whole thing with a spoon, no hesitation. One day, he decided, “You know what would be perfect? A little boat ride on the calmest, quietest lake in existence.” So, off he went with his tiny boat, paddling to the middle of the lake, where not even a single fish was interested in chatting.

When he got to the perfect spot, he tied his boat to a rock. “Ahh, perfection!” he said, closing his eyes. He took a deep breath and let out a big, “Ommmm... or whatever sound makes me sound zen.” And there he sat, basking in the silence like it was his favorite cozy blanket.

Hours passed. He was lost in his thoughts, probably wondering, "Why are pizza slices triangle but the box is square?" or something equally deep, when—BOOM—his boat shook like a toddler jumping on a bouncy castle. "WHAT IN THE—" he thought, his face scrunching up like someone had just replaced his favorite snack with broccoli. "Who dares disturb my peaceful me-time?" His eyes were still closed, but boy, was he ready to shout at whoever had bumped into his boat. He was this close to giving them a piece of his mind, and maybe a piece of his leftover sandwich.

He slowly opened his eyes, fully expecting to see some joker in another boat. But when he looked... wait for it... the other boat was EMPTY! Yes, you heard right. Empty. Like, not a single soul inside. No captain, no rowers, not even a stowaway frog. It was just a boat, floating along like it had nowhere better to be.

The man blinked. “Really?” he said to the empty boat, “You’re just gonna float around, bumping into people like you own the place?” He looked around, half-expecting to see some wind, maybe a sneaky breeze giggling behind a tree. “Ohhh, I see. It’s the wind. Of course, it’s the wind. Always causing trouble, thinking it’s so cool, with its ‘woosh woosh.’” He rolled his eyes but then stopped.

And then it hit him. “Wait a minute... this boat didn’t make me angry. I was just sitting here, ready to be mad. It could’ve been anything—a twig, a wave, even an overly enthusiastic fish could’ve set me off!” He stared at the empty boat, now bobbing peacefully, as if it was saying, “Hey, man, don’t blame me. I’m just floating here.”

From that day on, whenever the man felt himself getting annoyed at something or someone, like when his neighbor’s dog barked at 6 a.m. or when someone cut in front of him in line for ice cream, he’d take a deep breath, look around, and mutter, “It’s just an empty boat.” Then he’d smile, shake it off, and maybe go get some pizza, still pondering that whole triangle-slice-square-box mystery.

Out on the lake, where the waters were still,
A man sought some peace, away from the thrill.
With eyes gently closed and the breeze in his hair,
He drifted in silence, without any care.

His small boat was tied to a rock firm and tight,
He breathed in the calm, the soft fading light.
Hours passed by, not a sound did he hear,
Just the whispers of water, quiet and clear.

But then came a thud, a tap on the side,
His calm was now shaken, his anger grew wide.
“Who dares to disturb my time all alone?”
He grumbled and readied a furious tone.

He opened his eyes, ready to scold,
But what he then saw made his anger turn cold.
No one was there, no boatman in sight,
The boat that had bumped was empty, light.

The wind had just carried it over the lake,
No person had meant his peace to break.
He paused and he thought, “What have I learned?
This anger inside, from where has it burned?”

It wasn’t the boat, no hand was to blame,
The storm was inside him, not in the lake’s frame.
From that moment on, when anger would grow,
He’d think of the boat, the lesson he'd know.

“It’s just an empty boat,” he’d quietly say,
And the storm in his heart would soften, away.
No longer disturbed by the world’s gentle nudge,
He floated in peace, with no need to judge.