The man was walking his small dog on the dedicated bike path. He wasn’t supposed to be there, nor was his dog. But this is a common occurrence, so I just slowed slightly and went past.

As I did, he bellowed: “On your left!” — the shout that I should have made to alert him to my presence.

I hadn’t shouted, partly because I was irritated that he was there at all, taking up most of the path and partly because I know that constantly barking “On your left” at people, as cyclists do, is a bit obnoxious. The man came up to me as I stopped for a break, and we had a brief discussion about cycling manners and bike path rights. I was polite but firm, saying I was sorry that I startled him, but that he wasn’t actually supposed to be there.

This clearly wasn’t the response he was expecting (it’s amazing how we approach people with scripts in our heads, with our lines which is fine, but their lines as well). So he finally lost his temper and said: “Next time, if you run over my dog, I’ll scratch your eyes out”.

“Are you actually threatening me with violence?” I asked, the pleasant cycling burn helping me stay in control. The man turned and walked away. This was the US of A — even threats have consequences.

I’d learned an important lesson. Lose your cool, lose the argument. Even if ‘Small-Dog Walking Eye Scratcher’ had been correct about his bike path rights, he now had to skulk away because he’d done something that could actually justify my calling the police.

Now my faults are many, but you can’t accuse me of not learning from experience (even if it’s a little slow at times). Looking back from my vantage point at age 40, there are many moments of conflict in my past that I would handle differently. But sadly, when you’re caught up in reactive patterns, the usual advice is (ironically) infuriating.

“Don’t get angry” is one of the most useless statements out there. How can you suppress this emotion that springs from the deepest parts of us? The real learning is that while getting angry is rarely a choice, how to express that anger is one. Should you start hurling abuses and small rocks, or should you take a deep breath and have a rational discussion?

But an even more vital and subtle a lesson, certainly to us shouters, stormers out of rooms and nastiness slingers, is the idea that we, and only we, are responsible for our emotions. The cyclist swishing past ‘Dog Walking Eye Scratcher’ with nary a word of warning is not responsible for ‘Dog Walker’s’ anger.

‘Walker’ is angry because he brings a set of expectations to this situation, and therefore he, and only he, is responsible for his emotion. For example, if ‘Dog Walker’ was aware that he wasn’t allowed on the bike path, he might not have been angry; he might have thought, “Well that serves me right, perhaps I should walk Fluffy somewhere else”.

What a humanistic lesson it is, accepting responsibility for one’s emotions. It acknowledges that people are individuals, with their own opinions, methods and histories — and that they cannot be expected to follow scripts or meet any of the number of expectations we foist on those around us. Unless we’re prepared to Taser our way through life, we cannot control someone else’s behaviour. It’s a key to happiness and letting go of negativity, and should have been a compulsory lesson in school. I can’t believe I’ve gone 40 years before learning it.