The fog was thick that morning. I walked along the edge of the river near my village, looking for peace—or something like it. My name is Mei, and at that time, my heart felt heavy. My family had moved to the city, but I stayed behind. I didn’t want noisy streets or busy people. I just wanted to feel still again.
Out by the water, I found an old woman sitting on a rock. She wore simple clothes and held a small clay bowl filled with wildberries. She looked at me and smiled like she had been waiting.
“Come sit,” she said softly, patting the rock beside her.
I sat, unsure why. She offered me a berry, and I took one.
“Are you running from something?” she asked.
I looked away. “No… I think I’m just tired. Of everything. Of trying so hard all the time. Of feeling like I need to fix everything.”
She nodded slowly, watching the river ripple. “You remind me of the story of the shadow,” she said. “Would you like to hear it?”
I shrugged a little. “Sure.”
She pointed at the water. “A long time ago, a girl just like you chased her shadow. Every morning, she saw it stretching out before her. She tried to step on it, trap it, run faster than it...but no matter what, the shadow would move too.”
“That sounds frustrating,” I said, frowning.
“It was,” she replied. “Until one day, she sat still. The sun moved, and her shadow wrapped around behind her. She saw it for what it was—always with her, but never something she had to fight. She let it be.”
I looked at the water, my reflection dancing beside a dark shape—my own shadow, long and quiet.
“I think I’ve been chasing quiet,” I whispered.
“You’ve been chasing what already lives inside you,” the woman said, standing slowly. “But peace doesn’t come when we grab for it. It comes when we stop grabbing.”
Her words stayed with me long after she walked away. I didn’t know who she was or where she lived. No one else in the village seemed to know her either. Some said she was a wandering sage. Others said she was just a kind old woman who liked the river.
But I remembered her story.
I stopped trying to control everything. I let myself rest more, breathe deeper, and let the worries come and go like clouds. Even when they came back, I didn’t hold them so tight.
Now, when the city gets loud or my days feel too big, I go back to the river. I sit where the woman once sat, and I let my shadow stretch beside me.
I don’t chase it anymore.
And while I still have much to learn, I’ve discovered something true: when I let go, what I need finds its way to me.
Just like the river finds its way to the sea.
The fog was thick that morning. I walked along the edge of the river near my village, looking for peace—or something like it. My name is Mei, and at that time, my heart felt heavy. My family had moved to the city, but I stayed behind. I didn’t want noisy streets or busy people. I just wanted to feel still again.
Out by the water, I found an old woman sitting on a rock. She wore simple clothes and held a small clay bowl filled with wildberries. She looked at me and smiled like she had been waiting.
“Come sit,” she said softly, patting the rock beside her.
I sat, unsure why. She offered me a berry, and I took one.
“Are you running from something?” she asked.
I looked away. “No… I think I’m just tired. Of everything. Of trying so hard all the time. Of feeling like I need to fix everything.”
She nodded slowly, watching the river ripple. “You remind me of the story of the shadow,” she said. “Would you like to hear it?”
I shrugged a little. “Sure.”
She pointed at the water. “A long time ago, a girl just like you chased her shadow. Every morning, she saw it stretching out before her. She tried to step on it, trap it, run faster than it...but no matter what, the shadow would move too.”
“That sounds frustrating,” I said, frowning.
“It was,” she replied. “Until one day, she sat still. The sun moved, and her shadow wrapped around behind her. She saw it for what it was—always with her, but never something she had to fight. She let it be.”
I looked at the water, my reflection dancing beside a dark shape—my own shadow, long and quiet.
“I think I’ve been chasing quiet,” I whispered.
“You’ve been chasing what already lives inside you,” the woman said, standing slowly. “But peace doesn’t come when we grab for it. It comes when we stop grabbing.”
Her words stayed with me long after she walked away. I didn’t know who she was or where she lived. No one else in the village seemed to know her either. Some said she was a wandering sage. Others said she was just a kind old woman who liked the river.
But I remembered her story.
I stopped trying to control everything. I let myself rest more, breathe deeper, and let the worries come and go like clouds. Even when they came back, I didn’t hold them so tight.
Now, when the city gets loud or my days feel too big, I go back to the river. I sit where the woman once sat, and I let my shadow stretch beside me.
I don’t chase it anymore.
And while I still have much to learn, I’ve discovered something true: when I let go, what I need finds its way to me.
Just like the river finds its way to the sea.
