The sun was hot that afternoon, and I had spent hours in the field chasing my runaway goat. My name is Biao, and I lived in a small village at the edge of the forest. Life was always busy. There was always something to fix, something to run after, something to worry about. But that day, things changed in a way I didn’t expect.
My goat, Jun, had broken loose again. He was fast and stubborn, just like the river that ran by our home. I ran after him, stumbling through tall grass, sweating under the sun. My legs ached, and my heart thumped like a drum. Finally, Jun darted into the forest where the trees grew taller than houses and the air got quiet.
I stopped running.
I didn’t know where Jun had gone. I sat on a tree stump and covered my face with my hands. “Why does everything have to be so hard?” I said out loud. “Why can’t life just be simple?”
Then I heard a soft laugh.
I peeked through my fingers. A man stood nearby under a tree, leaning on a walking stick. He wore simple clothes and had a long beard that danced with the breeze. His eyes shimmered like sunlight on water.
“You’re chasing your goat the wrong way,” the man said kindly.
I stood up. “The wrong way? I’ve been running all day!”
“That’s the problem,” he said. “Running isn't always chasing. Sometimes, staying still brings more than force ever could.”
I didn’t understand him. “What do you mean?”
“I once taught at the Emperor’s court,” he said. “But I left, because they wanted more—more power, more riches. They didn’t see that true peace comes when you stop trying so hard. When you follow the Tao—the Way.”
I had heard of the Tao before. Some adults talked about it in whispers, but I never paid much attention. “So, what should I do?”
The man smiled. “Sit. Rest. Let the forest speak to him. Your goat knows the way back.”
I sighed. “But I don’t think—”
He raised a hand gently. “Just be.”
So I sat back down, unsure and annoyed. But then... something strange happened. The forest wasn’t loud like the village, but it wasn’t silent either. I began to hear the soft rustle of leaves, the chirps of birds, the distant river singing. And then, I heard a familiar bleating. I turned my head. Jun was walking right toward me, calmly munching on leaves.
He licked my hand, and I laughed.
“How did he know?” I asked, looking for the old man—but he was gone.
That day stayed with me. I didn’t learn everything in that moment, but I felt something change. I began to understand what that old man—maybe even Laozi himself—meant. When I didn’t chase or push, but let things be, life moved easier. Like water flowing around a rock.
Now, when things feel too hard, I remember the forest, the breeze, and Jun finding his way back—not because I chased, but because I trusted.
I didn’t change overnight. But now, when I feel the need to run after everything, I try to stop, breathe, and simply follow the Way.
The sun was hot that afternoon, and I had spent hours in the field chasing my runaway goat. My name is Biao, and I lived in a small village at the edge of the forest. Life was always busy. There was always something to fix, something to run after, something to worry about. But that day, things changed in a way I didn’t expect.
My goat, Jun, had broken loose again. He was fast and stubborn, just like the river that ran by our home. I ran after him, stumbling through tall grass, sweating under the sun. My legs ached, and my heart thumped like a drum. Finally, Jun darted into the forest where the trees grew taller than houses and the air got quiet.
I stopped running.
I didn’t know where Jun had gone. I sat on a tree stump and covered my face with my hands. “Why does everything have to be so hard?” I said out loud. “Why can’t life just be simple?”
Then I heard a soft laugh.
I peeked through my fingers. A man stood nearby under a tree, leaning on a walking stick. He wore simple clothes and had a long beard that danced with the breeze. His eyes shimmered like sunlight on water.
“You’re chasing your goat the wrong way,” the man said kindly.
I stood up. “The wrong way? I’ve been running all day!”
“That’s the problem,” he said. “Running isn't always chasing. Sometimes, staying still brings more than force ever could.”
I didn’t understand him. “What do you mean?”
“I once taught at the Emperor’s court,” he said. “But I left, because they wanted more—more power, more riches. They didn’t see that true peace comes when you stop trying so hard. When you follow the Tao—the Way.”
I had heard of the Tao before. Some adults talked about it in whispers, but I never paid much attention. “So, what should I do?”
The man smiled. “Sit. Rest. Let the forest speak to him. Your goat knows the way back.”
I sighed. “But I don’t think—”
He raised a hand gently. “Just be.”
So I sat back down, unsure and annoyed. But then... something strange happened. The forest wasn’t loud like the village, but it wasn’t silent either. I began to hear the soft rustle of leaves, the chirps of birds, the distant river singing. And then, I heard a familiar bleating. I turned my head. Jun was walking right toward me, calmly munching on leaves.
He licked my hand, and I laughed.
“How did he know?” I asked, looking for the old man—but he was gone.
That day stayed with me. I didn’t learn everything in that moment, but I felt something change. I began to understand what that old man—maybe even Laozi himself—meant. When I didn’t chase or push, but let things be, life moved easier. Like water flowing around a rock.
Now, when things feel too hard, I remember the forest, the breeze, and Jun finding his way back—not because I chased, but because I trusted.
I didn’t change overnight. But now, when I feel the need to run after everything, I try to stop, breathe, and simply follow the Way.
