The river was calm that morning, with mist curling slowly above the water like a lazy dragon waking from a nap. I was just a simple fisherman, pushing my old wooden boat into the stream with my pole. My name is Jun, and I had fished this river since I was a boy. It used to make me feel peaceful. But lately, something had changed.
I had started trying too hard—racing other boats to the best fishing spots, getting angry when fish didn't bite. I thought if I worked harder, I would catch more. But instead, I just felt tired. And worst of all, I had not caught a single fish in three days.
So that morning, I decided to float downstream without effort. “Let the river choose,” I whispered.
As the boat glided quietly, I closed my eyes, breathing in the morning air. Then—THUMP! My boat shook, and I jolted upright.
I had hit something.
“Who would row into someone else’s path?” I shouted, looking up.
But when I saw the other boat… it was empty.
The little wooden vessel bobbed gently, moving with the current. There was no person, no one to blame—just an empty boat floating peacefully, like mine.
At first, I felt silly for yelling. But then something strange happened. As I stared at the empty boat, I felt my anger drift away, like leaves falling from a tree. The quietness returned. I sat back down, and this time, I did nothing. I let my boat just float.
A while later, I heard soft steps behind me on the riverbank. It was Old Master Wen, a retired monk who now lived in the hills. He often walked by the river to watch the willow trees and hum little songs.
“Did that boat teach you something?” he asked kindly, with a smile in his wrinkled eyes.
“I think it did,” I said. “I yelled because I thought someone was being careless. But when I saw it was empty... I felt foolish. There was no one to blame.”
He nodded. “That is the way of Tao. When we expect the world to move our way, we get angry. But when we simply flow with it, like water, we find peace.”
I looked back at the river. The empty boat kept drifting, gentle and free. Just like how I wanted to be.
Since that day, I stopped rushing my fishing. I still went out each morning, but now I let the current guide me. Some days I caught many fish. Some days, none. But inside, I felt full.
I didn’t change overnight. But now, whenever I felt the urge to push or blame, I remembered that simple, empty boat. I learned the power of “Wu Wei”—the wisdom of doing nothing... yet achieving everything.
The river had always known the way.
I was just learning how to follow.
The river was calm that morning, with mist curling slowly above the water like a lazy dragon waking from a nap. I was just a simple fisherman, pushing my old wooden boat into the stream with my pole. My name is Jun, and I had fished this river since I was a boy. It used to make me feel peaceful. But lately, something had changed.
I had started trying too hard—racing other boats to the best fishing spots, getting angry when fish didn't bite. I thought if I worked harder, I would catch more. But instead, I just felt tired. And worst of all, I had not caught a single fish in three days.
So that morning, I decided to float downstream without effort. “Let the river choose,” I whispered.
As the boat glided quietly, I closed my eyes, breathing in the morning air. Then—THUMP! My boat shook, and I jolted upright.
I had hit something.
“Who would row into someone else’s path?” I shouted, looking up.
But when I saw the other boat… it was empty.
The little wooden vessel bobbed gently, moving with the current. There was no person, no one to blame—just an empty boat floating peacefully, like mine.
At first, I felt silly for yelling. But then something strange happened. As I stared at the empty boat, I felt my anger drift away, like leaves falling from a tree. The quietness returned. I sat back down, and this time, I did nothing. I let my boat just float.
A while later, I heard soft steps behind me on the riverbank. It was Old Master Wen, a retired monk who now lived in the hills. He often walked by the river to watch the willow trees and hum little songs.
“Did that boat teach you something?” he asked kindly, with a smile in his wrinkled eyes.
“I think it did,” I said. “I yelled because I thought someone was being careless. But when I saw it was empty... I felt foolish. There was no one to blame.”
He nodded. “That is the way of Tao. When we expect the world to move our way, we get angry. But when we simply flow with it, like water, we find peace.”
I looked back at the river. The empty boat kept drifting, gentle and free. Just like how I wanted to be.
Since that day, I stopped rushing my fishing. I still went out each morning, but now I let the current guide me. Some days I caught many fish. Some days, none. But inside, I felt full.
I didn’t change overnight. But now, whenever I felt the urge to push or blame, I remembered that simple, empty boat. I learned the power of “Wu Wei”—the wisdom of doing nothing... yet achieving everything.
The river had always known the way.
I was just learning how to follow.
