There's a parable, passed down among Zhuangzi's (say "jwahng-dzuh") later followers, about a man crossing a river whose boat is bumped by another, empty boat. He isn't angry, there's no one to be angry at. But if a person were steering that second boat, he'd shout, and shout again, and grow furious if ignored. Same bump, same boat, completely different reaction, and the only thing that changed is whether he believed someone was in there to blame. The parable's point isn't to drift through life feeling nothing. It's that most of anger's fuel comes from the story about who did this to you, not from the collision itself. Today, when something bumps into you, a curt reply, a missed exit, a rude comment, pause half a second before deciding whether there's really a person to be angry at, or just an empty boat.