The sun was high above the mountain when I first saw the butterfly.
I was only seven back then, staying with my Aunt Li for the summer. Aunt Li lived alone in a small village by the forest. She didn’t speak much, and everything in her life felt... quiet. At first, I thought it was boring. I missed the noise of the city, the games, the fast-moving cars, and the bright lights.
One morning, feeling restless, I ran to the woods behind her house. I stomped my feet and swung my arms, trying to scare off my boredom. That’s when something small and bright flew past me – a butterfly! Its wings were yellow and black, and it danced through the air like it was playing. I chased it at once.
The butterfly darted away, floating just out of reach. I ran faster, pushing branches out of my way. But the more I rushed, the more it slipped away.
After what felt like forever, I tripped over a root and fell into the grass. My knees stung, and I crossed my arms with a huff. “I almost had it!” I grumbled.
Aunt Li had followed me quietly and was now sitting beside me. She didn’t scold me. Instead, she gently asked, “Why do you think the butterfly flew away?”
“Because I wasn’t fast enough,” I answered.
She smiled and shook her head. “Maybe... but butterflies don’t like chasing. They like stillness.”
I didn’t understand what she meant.
She reached into her basket and took out a small peach. While I ate it, she said, “Let’s sit here for a bit.”
The grass was soft, and the breeze was warm. After a while, something amazing happened. The very same butterfly—which I had tried so hard to catch—came back! This time, it fluttered above me, then gently landed on my shoulder.
I held my breath.
Aunt Li whispered, “See? When we stop rushing, what we're chasing finds its way to us.”
That moment stayed with me for years.
Later, she told me a little about the Tao—the Way. She said the Tao teaches us to flow like a river and not to fight life’s current. That we don’t have to force things. It’s called Wu Wei—doing without doing. It’s like how the butterfly came when I stopped chasing it.
I didn’t change right away. I still liked to run and chase. But slowly, I started to notice how peaceful Aunt Li’s way of life was. She didn’t hurry, yet things always got done. Her garden grew full, her home was calm, and she smiled more than anyone I knew.
Now, many summers later, I still remember that butterfly and what it taught me.
I don’t run after things the way I used to. Instead, I let life unfold like the wings of a butterfly—soft, quiet, and free. And I know now, that sometimes the greatest power lies in doing less... and simply being still.
The sun was high above the mountain when I first saw the butterfly.
I was only seven back then, staying with my Aunt Li for the summer. Aunt Li lived alone in a small village by the forest. She didn’t speak much, and everything in her life felt... quiet. At first, I thought it was boring. I missed the noise of the city, the games, the fast-moving cars, and the bright lights.
One morning, feeling restless, I ran to the woods behind her house. I stomped my feet and swung my arms, trying to scare off my boredom. That’s when something small and bright flew past me – a butterfly! Its wings were yellow and black, and it danced through the air like it was playing. I chased it at once.
The butterfly darted away, floating just out of reach. I ran faster, pushing branches out of my way. But the more I rushed, the more it slipped away.
After what felt like forever, I tripped over a root and fell into the grass. My knees stung, and I crossed my arms with a huff. “I almost had it!” I grumbled.
Aunt Li had followed me quietly and was now sitting beside me. She didn’t scold me. Instead, she gently asked, “Why do you think the butterfly flew away?”
“Because I wasn’t fast enough,” I answered.
She smiled and shook her head. “Maybe... but butterflies don’t like chasing. They like stillness.”
I didn’t understand what she meant.
She reached into her basket and took out a small peach. While I ate it, she said, “Let’s sit here for a bit.”
The grass was soft, and the breeze was warm. After a while, something amazing happened. The very same butterfly—which I had tried so hard to catch—came back! This time, it fluttered above me, then gently landed on my shoulder.
I held my breath.
Aunt Li whispered, “See? When we stop rushing, what we're chasing finds its way to us.”
That moment stayed with me for years.
Later, she told me a little about the Tao—the Way. She said the Tao teaches us to flow like a river and not to fight life’s current. That we don’t have to force things. It’s called Wu Wei—doing without doing. It’s like how the butterfly came when I stopped chasing it.
I didn’t change right away. I still liked to run and chase. But slowly, I started to notice how peaceful Aunt Li’s way of life was. She didn’t hurry, yet things always got done. Her garden grew full, her home was calm, and she smiled more than anyone I knew.
Now, many summers later, I still remember that butterfly and what it taught me.
I don’t run after things the way I used to. Instead, I let life unfold like the wings of a butterfly—soft, quiet, and free. And I know now, that sometimes the greatest power lies in doing less... and simply being still.
