The lanterns in the market were still glowing when Master Zhuang told me his dream.
It was late, and I had just finished sweeping the steps outside his quiet tea house. My name is Wei, and I had come to live with Master Zhuang two seasons ago. Most people in our village said he was a strange old man who talked in riddles. But to me, he was kind. He never rushed, never scolded. Things seemed to happen around him like leaves falling gently to the ground—soft and natural.
That night, as I sat beside him sipping warm tea, the moonlight blinking through the bamboo trees, he said softly, “Last night, I dreamed I was a butterfly, floating from flower to flower, so light and free. I flapped my wings under the sun, not knowing of people, or chores, or tea.”
I smiled. “That sounds like a peaceful dream, Master.”
He nodded. “But when I woke up, I wondered—was I a man dreaming I was a butterfly… or am I really a butterfly, dreaming that I am a man?”
I tilted my head, confused. “But Master, you’re sitting right here. You’re real.”
He chuckled softly. “Maybe. But have you ever dreamed something so real, you thought it was really happening?”
I nodded. Once, I dreamed I was flying like a bird over the mountains. I could feel the wind on my cheeks. It felt… just as real as this moment.
Master Zhuang looked up at the stars. “Sometimes the world seems solid. Other times, it changes when we look again. The Tao flows through it all—the butterfly, the boy, the dream, even the wind we can’t see.”
I didn’t understand everything, but I felt still inside, like the pond behind the tea house that only rippled when the wind passed. That night, I dreamed again. This time, I was the butterfly. I floated without worry. I didn’t think of tomorrow or yesterday. I just flew.
When I woke, birds chirped outside, and the morning light was soft. I moved slowly, following the breath of the day. Normally, I would hurry to sweep or boil water, hoping to be faster, better. But that morning, I moved like the butterfly—light and free, letting things happen without pushing.
Master Zhuang watched me and smiled. “You’ve met the butterfly, haven’t you?”
I nodded. “He didn’t need to try so hard. He just flew.”
He replied, “Yes, that is the Way. Wu Wei. Doing without forcing. Letting life be like a butterfly’s flight—gentle, natural, in harmony with all things.”
Since that day, I’ve tried not to chase answers or control each moment. I still sweep. I still boil water. But now I do it like the butterfly—floating through the day, trusting that the Tao is already guiding my wings.
I didn’t change overnight. But now, whenever I feel the urge to push too hard, I remember the dream. And I smile, knowing that sometimes, doing nothing at all is the wisest thing we can do.
And maybe—just maybe—we’re all butterflies, learning how to fly.
The lanterns in the market were still glowing when Master Zhuang told me his dream.
It was late, and I had just finished sweeping the steps outside his quiet tea house. My name is Wei, and I had come to live with Master Zhuang two seasons ago. Most people in our village said he was a strange old man who talked in riddles. But to me, he was kind. He never rushed, never scolded. Things seemed to happen around him like leaves falling gently to the ground—soft and natural.
That night, as I sat beside him sipping warm tea, the moonlight blinking through the bamboo trees, he said softly, “Last night, I dreamed I was a butterfly, floating from flower to flower, so light and free. I flapped my wings under the sun, not knowing of people, or chores, or tea.”
I smiled. “That sounds like a peaceful dream, Master.”
He nodded. “But when I woke up, I wondered—was I a man dreaming I was a butterfly… or am I really a butterfly, dreaming that I am a man?”
I tilted my head, confused. “But Master, you’re sitting right here. You’re real.”
He chuckled softly. “Maybe. But have you ever dreamed something so real, you thought it was really happening?”
I nodded. Once, I dreamed I was flying like a bird over the mountains. I could feel the wind on my cheeks. It felt… just as real as this moment.
Master Zhuang looked up at the stars. “Sometimes the world seems solid. Other times, it changes when we look again. The Tao flows through it all—the butterfly, the boy, the dream, even the wind we can’t see.”
I didn’t understand everything, but I felt still inside, like the pond behind the tea house that only rippled when the wind passed. That night, I dreamed again. This time, I was the butterfly. I floated without worry. I didn’t think of tomorrow or yesterday. I just flew.
When I woke, birds chirped outside, and the morning light was soft. I moved slowly, following the breath of the day. Normally, I would hurry to sweep or boil water, hoping to be faster, better. But that morning, I moved like the butterfly—light and free, letting things happen without pushing.
Master Zhuang watched me and smiled. “You’ve met the butterfly, haven’t you?”
I nodded. “He didn’t need to try so hard. He just flew.”
He replied, “Yes, that is the Way. Wu Wei. Doing without forcing. Letting life be like a butterfly’s flight—gentle, natural, in harmony with all things.”
Since that day, I’ve tried not to chase answers or control each moment. I still sweep. I still boil water. But now I do it like the butterfly—floating through the day, trusting that the Tao is already guiding my wings.
I didn’t change overnight. But now, whenever I feel the urge to push too hard, I remember the dream. And I smile, knowing that sometimes, doing nothing at all is the wisest thing we can do.
And maybe—just maybe—we’re all butterflies, learning how to fly.
