The sun was high in the sky, and I was tired from walking. My sandals kicked up tiny puffs of dust as I followed the winding path through the quiet valley. I was just a young traveler, carrying a small pack and even smaller thoughts. I thought that to be wise, I had to chase answers. I didn’t know yet that sometimes, the answers find you—if you stop chasing.
I sat under a tree to rest. The shade felt cool on my warm skin, and the leaves above moved gently in the wind. That's when I saw the old man.
He was sitting very still, like a stone that had been there for years. His long gray beard touched his chest, and his eyes were closed. Next to him, a butterfly danced through the air.
I waited, curious. He didn’t open his eyes until the butterfly landed on his nose. Then, slowly and softly, he smiled.
“Did you see that?” he asked without looking at me.
I nodded. “Yes, that butterfly really liked you.”
He opened his eyes and looked at me kindly. “Or maybe I liked the butterfly,” he said with a little laugh.
I didn’t understand what he meant, but I smiled anyway.
He patted the grass next to him. “Sit, young one. You look like you're searching.”
I sat down. “I’m trying to figure out life,” I said. “What’s right. What’s wrong. What I should do.”
The old man nodded slowly. “Ah, the great chase. Always trying to do, to fix, to climb mountains just to see what’s on the other side.” He plucked a leaf from the ground and held it up. “But sometimes, the greatest wisdom is in not doing.”
“Not doing?” I asked. “But then how do things get done?”
He looked thoughtfully at the leaf. “Do you see the tree this came from? It didn’t rush to grow these leaves. It didn’t force the butterfly to come. It simply stood where it was. That is Wu Wei—non-action. Not laziness, but peaceful allowing.”
I thought about that. “So...I should just do nothing?”
The old man chuckled. “No, child. Let things unfold naturally. Act when it is time. Rest when it is needed. Don’t try to bend the river; flow with it.”
For a long moment, we sat together in silence. The butterfly returned and flew lazily around us. I watched it drift, not working hard, not planning, just being.
“Earlier,” the old man said, “I dreamt I was a butterfly. I flew through forests and fields. It felt so real that when I woke, I wasn’t sure—am I a man who dreamt of being a butterfly... or a butterfly dreaming of being a man?”
I sat wide-eyed. “Is that possible?”
He smiled gently. “The Tao shows us that many things are. What matters is living simply, in harmony, and not clinging too tightly.”
When I left that place, I walked slower. I didn’t rush to find more answers. I felt lighter, almost like I had wings.
I didn’t change overnight. But now, whenever I feel the urge to try too hard, I remember the butterfly. I close my eyes, take a breath, and wait—for the Way to show itself.
The sun was high in the sky, and I was tired from walking. My sandals kicked up tiny puffs of dust as I followed the winding path through the quiet valley. I was just a young traveler, carrying a small pack and even smaller thoughts. I thought that to be wise, I had to chase answers. I didn’t know yet that sometimes, the answers find you—if you stop chasing.
I sat under a tree to rest. The shade felt cool on my warm skin, and the leaves above moved gently in the wind. That's when I saw the old man.
He was sitting very still, like a stone that had been there for years. His long gray beard touched his chest, and his eyes were closed. Next to him, a butterfly danced through the air.
I waited, curious. He didn’t open his eyes until the butterfly landed on his nose. Then, slowly and softly, he smiled.
“Did you see that?” he asked without looking at me.
I nodded. “Yes, that butterfly really liked you.”
He opened his eyes and looked at me kindly. “Or maybe I liked the butterfly,” he said with a little laugh.
I didn’t understand what he meant, but I smiled anyway.
He patted the grass next to him. “Sit, young one. You look like you're searching.”
I sat down. “I’m trying to figure out life,” I said. “What’s right. What’s wrong. What I should do.”
The old man nodded slowly. “Ah, the great chase. Always trying to do, to fix, to climb mountains just to see what’s on the other side.” He plucked a leaf from the ground and held it up. “But sometimes, the greatest wisdom is in not doing.”
“Not doing?” I asked. “But then how do things get done?”
He looked thoughtfully at the leaf. “Do you see the tree this came from? It didn’t rush to grow these leaves. It didn’t force the butterfly to come. It simply stood where it was. That is Wu Wei—non-action. Not laziness, but peaceful allowing.”
I thought about that. “So...I should just do nothing?”
The old man chuckled. “No, child. Let things unfold naturally. Act when it is time. Rest when it is needed. Don’t try to bend the river; flow with it.”
For a long moment, we sat together in silence. The butterfly returned and flew lazily around us. I watched it drift, not working hard, not planning, just being.
“Earlier,” the old man said, “I dreamt I was a butterfly. I flew through forests and fields. It felt so real that when I woke, I wasn’t sure—am I a man who dreamt of being a butterfly... or a butterfly dreaming of being a man?”
I sat wide-eyed. “Is that possible?”
He smiled gently. “The Tao shows us that many things are. What matters is living simply, in harmony, and not clinging too tightly.”
When I left that place, I walked slower. I didn’t rush to find more answers. I felt lighter, almost like I had wings.
I didn’t change overnight. But now, whenever I feel the urge to try too hard, I remember the butterfly. I close my eyes, take a breath, and wait—for the Way to show itself.
