We can see this crystallization of “I” and “mine” in many situations of daily life. You are napping peacefully in a boat in the middle of a lake. Another craft bumps into yours and wakes you with a start. Thinking that a clumsy or prankish boater has crashed into you, you leap up furious, ready to curse him out, only to find that the boat in question is empty. You laugh at your own mistake and return peaceably to your nap. The only difference between the two reactions is that in the first case, you’d thought yourself the target of someone’s malice, while in the second you realized that your “I” was not a target.
Likewise, if someone punches you, your irritation will be long-lasting. But consider the physical pain — it fades quickly and is soon imperceptible. The only thing that continues to hurt is the ego’s wound. A friend of mine had come to Nepal from Hong Kong to attend some teachings. Thousands of people had gathered and were jam-packed on the floor of our monastery’s vast courtyard. As my friend was moving back and forth trying to seat herself a bit more comfortably, cross-legged on her cushion, someone punched her in the back. As she told me later: “I felt irritated for a whole hour. How could someone attending Buddhist teachings behave in such a rude and uncompassionate way toward me, who had come so far to receive these teachings! But after a while I realized that although my irritation had been long-lasting, the actual physical pain had faded quickly and had soon become imperceptible. The only thing that continued to hurt was my wounded ego! I had one minute of body pain and fifty-nine minutes of ego pain!” When we see the self as a mere concept and not as an autonomous entity that we must protect and satisfy at all costs, we react in completely different ways.
Here is another example to illustrate our attachment to the idea of “mine.” You are looking at a beautiful porcelain vase in a shopwindow when a clumsy salesman knocks it over. “What a shame! Such a lovely vase!” you sigh, and continue calmly on your way. On the other hand, if you had just bought that vase and had placed it proudly on the mantle, only to see it fall and smash to smithereens, you would cry out in horror, “My vase is broken!” and be deeply affected by the accident. The sole difference is the label “my” that you had stuck to the vase.
Ricard, Matthieu. The Art of Happiness: A Guide to Developing Life's Most Important Skill