Under Grumpa's Hat

Picture yourself drifting on Lake Arenal, the volcano standing tall in the background, a light breeze playing with the ripples on the water. You are in your small fishing boat, casting a line, enjoying the peace that comes from the rhythm of the waves. Then, out of nowhere, you see another boat heading directly towards you.

At first, you keep calm, waving and calling out, expecting the other person to steer away. When nothing happens, your voice sharpens. “Hey, watch where you’re going!” You begin muttering under your breath, perhaps even stringing together a few words your grandmother would not approve of. By the time the boat gets close, your blood pressure is rising faster than a tourist rushing to catch the last bus back to San José.

Then it hits you. Literally, almost. The boat is empty. Nobody is inside. No captain, no careless fisherman, no mischievous kid playing a prank. Just a vessel drifting with the current. Suddenly your anger has no place to land. It vanishes as quickly as it came, leaving you a little embarrassed, but also oddly at peace.

That, my friends, is the “empty boat” effect. More often than not, our anger does not come from what actually happens, but from the story we tell ourselves about what happened. We assume that person who cut us off on the road was trying to disrespect us, or that co-worker’s short reply was meant as an insult. In truth, about ninety percent of our emotional storms are brewed in our own minds, with only ten percent coming from real, deliberate actions.

Life in Costa Rica teaches this lesson beautifully. Here, the phrase “Pura Vida” is more than just a tourist slogan, it is a way of living. People shrug off inconveniences with a smile, and traffic jams become opportunities to roll down the window and talk to the fruit vendor. When you start to see others as empty boats, you stop assuming the worst and you begin to notice the lighter side of things.

Not every hurt is intentional. Sometimes, people are simply caught up in their own struggles, distracted, or limited in ways you cannot see. By viewing them as empty boats, you take away their power to ignite your anger. You stay calmer, lighter, more in control of yourself.

This does not mean excusing bad behaviour or letting yourself be taken advantage of. It means choosing not to carry unnecessary weight. Why drag an anchor when the current is offering you a smoother ride?

So the next time you feel your temper flaring, picture that empty boat drifting across Lake Arenal. Smile, breathe, and remind yourself: not every collision is a personal attack. Some are just life’s way of nudging us to let go.

The real power comes when you stop handing your peace of mind over to others, and instead steer your own boat with patience and grace. And if that does not work, at least you will have a good story to tell over a plate of gallo pinto and a cup of strong Costa Rican coffee.