Do people get annoyed? Yes, they do. But the issue isn't about being "annoyed," but whether we allow ourselves to be trapped by worries. Think about it carefully—worries are actually a state, not a thing. They're like clouds in the sky; they come and go. No worry is able to stay in one place unchanged forever. The reason we feel suffering isn't because of the worry itself, but because when we're troubled, we subconsciously think: "Why am I like this?" "Why does this thing happen to me?" Once the "I" jumps out, worry is no longer just worry; it becomes "I am worried." People often talk about "impermanence," not to make you understand life and death, but to let you see a fact first: both worry and happiness are impermanent. So when you're worried, there's no need to add another layer of pain; when you're happy, there's no need to rush to hold on to it. Can desires be eliminated? Actually, there's no need to "eliminate" them at all. The reason desires cause suffering isn't because they exist, but because they are always tied to "me." I want to get, I can't lose, I must prove who I am. What truly works isn't suppressing desires, but gradually letting the "I" step back. Russell once made a very important discovery: when a person focuses all their attention on themselves, worries will keep amplifying; when you shift your gaze away, the world becomes bigger, and the position of "I" naturally becomes smaller. This is also why ancient people judged cultivation not by your abilities, but by how much you hold onto the "I." The "I" is still there, but it’s no longer so important—that's called a wise person; the "I" almost no longer dominates you—that's called a saint. So truly mature people are not escaping the world, but within the world, their hearts are not pulled along by it. They understand rules and human feelings but are not controlled by schemes and worldly tricks; they see through complexity but still retain inner simplicity. This is "entering the world and yet transcending it," and also "worldly but innocent." Many people now say they are "Buddha-like," but actually, they seem more indifferent. But in cultivation, "following fate" doesn't mean giving up; it means non-attachment. What should come, comes; what should go, goes; I do my best, but I don't bind myself to the outcome. Today, when you walk into a temple and see the mountains, stones, and paths, you'll gradually understand a sentence: Ling Mountain isn't a specific place; it is the moment when your heart finds peace at this very moment. For us who live in daily life, having such a period of time to temporarily step back from the center of "I" is already a very rare form of cultivation.