Who can stop us from celebrating?

There is an ancient Chinese story:

There was a stone cutter who was dissatisfied with himself and his life. One day he passed a wealthy merchants house, and through the open gateway, saw many fine possession and important visitors.

“how powerful that merchant must be!” Thought the stone cutter. He became very envious, and wished that he could be like the merchant. Then he would no longer have to live the life of a mere stone cutter.

To his great surprise he suddenly became the merchant, enjoying more luxuries and power than he ever dreamed of, envied and detested by those less wealthy than himself. But soon a high official passed by carried in a sedan chair, accompanied by attendants, and escorted by soldiers beating gongs. Everyone, no matter how wealthy, had to bow low before the procession. “How powerful that official is!” he thought. “I wish that I could be that high official.”

Then he became the high official, carried every where, in his embroidered sedan chair, feared and hated by the people all around, who had to bow down before him as he passed. It was a hot summer day, and the official felt very uncomfortable in the sticky sedan chair. He looked up at the sun. It shone proudly in the sky, unaffected by his presence. “How powerful the sun is!” he thought. “I wish that I could be the sun.” Then he became the sun, shining fiercly down on everyone, scorching the fields, cursed by the farmers and laborers.

But a huge black cloud moved between him and the earth, so that his light could not shine on everything below. “How powerful that storm cloud is!” he thought. “I wish that I could be a cloud!”

Then he became the cloud, flooding the fields and villages, shouted at by everyone. But soon he found that he was being pushed away by some great force, and realized that it was the wind. “How powerful it is!” he thought. “I wish that I could be the wind!”

Then he became the wind, blowing tiles off of houses, uprooting trees, hated and feared by all below him. But after awhile he ran up against something that would not move, no matter how forcefully he blew against it–a huge, towering stone. “How powerful that stone is!” he thought. “I wish that I could be a stone.”

Then he became the stone, more powerful than anything else on earth. But as he stood there, he heard the sound of a hammer pounding a chisel into the solid rock, and felt himself being changed. “What could be more powerful than I, the stone?” he thought. He looked down and saw far below him the figure of a stone cutter.

The clouds above us join and separate, The breeze in the courtyard leaves and returns.
Life is like that, so why not relax?
Who can stop us from celebrating?