The moon was high and bright the night I had the dream that changed everything.
My name is Li Wei, and I was a boy who always tried too hard. When I helped Father in the garden, I pulled the weeds too quickly and sometimes yanked up the carrots too. When I studied with our village teacher, I strained my eyes by staying up too late, trying to be the best in class. I thought that more effort meant more success. But I was always tired, and no matter how much I did, I never felt happy.
One night, after a long day of working and worrying, I fell asleep with aching eyes and a heavy heart.
In my dream, I was a butterfly. I had colorful wings, soft as flower petals. I floated on the wind, dancing from one blossom to the next. I did not think. I did not try. I just flew, and it felt like joy. There was no fear or rush, only the peace of the breeze carrying me wherever it wanted to go.
But then, something strange happened. I woke up.
I sat up in bed, blinking in the dark. My heart beat fast. "Was I Li Wei dreaming I was a butterfly," I whispered to myself, "or am I now a butterfly dreaming he is Li Wei?"
I didn’t know. But I remembered every soft flutter, every floating moment of that dream. I felt calm and light—like I’d left my troubles behind.
The next day, on my way to school, I passed by Old Master Zhuang’s garden. He was a kind man with a long gray beard and always wore robes the color of dust. Everyone said he was wise, though he never said much.
He was sitting perfectly still, watching a leaf twirl in the wind. I stopped and told him about my dream. He smiled.
"Butterfly or boy," he said, his eyes twinkling, "both are part of the Tao—the Way. Your dream was not a puzzle to solve, but a reminder."
“Of what?” I asked.
"That sometimes," he whispered, "the greatest peace comes when we stop trying so hard. Like the butterfly, you were carried by the breeze, not by effort. That is Wu Wei—non-action. It means letting things happen in their own time, without pushing or pulling."
I didn’t fully understand then. But that day, I slowed down. I walked more gently. I breathed easier. And when a mistake happened in class, I didn’t rush to fix it with panic. I just let it pass, like the wind passing through a tree.
And to my surprise, everything felt lighter.
I still work hard, but I’ve learned to let go of the tight fist inside my chest when things don’t go my way. I remember the butterfly, floating without worry, trusting the Tao to carry him.
I didn’t change overnight. But now, whenever I feel the urge to push too hard, I pause and smile.
Maybe I’m still dreaming, or maybe I’ve finally woken up.
The moon was high and bright the night I had the dream that changed everything.
My name is Li Wei, and I was a boy who always tried too hard. When I helped Father in the garden, I pulled the weeds too quickly and sometimes yanked up the carrots too. When I studied with our village teacher, I strained my eyes by staying up too late, trying to be the best in class. I thought that more effort meant more success. But I was always tired, and no matter how much I did, I never felt happy.
One night, after a long day of working and worrying, I fell asleep with aching eyes and a heavy heart.
In my dream, I was a butterfly. I had colorful wings, soft as flower petals. I floated on the wind, dancing from one blossom to the next. I did not think. I did not try. I just flew, and it felt like joy. There was no fear or rush, only the peace of the breeze carrying me wherever it wanted to go.
But then, something strange happened. I woke up.
I sat up in bed, blinking in the dark. My heart beat fast. "Was I Li Wei dreaming I was a butterfly," I whispered to myself, "or am I now a butterfly dreaming he is Li Wei?"
I didn’t know. But I remembered every soft flutter, every floating moment of that dream. I felt calm and light—like I’d left my troubles behind.
The next day, on my way to school, I passed by Old Master Zhuang’s garden. He was a kind man with a long gray beard and always wore robes the color of dust. Everyone said he was wise, though he never said much.
He was sitting perfectly still, watching a leaf twirl in the wind. I stopped and told him about my dream. He smiled.
"Butterfly or boy," he said, his eyes twinkling, "both are part of the Tao—the Way. Your dream was not a puzzle to solve, but a reminder."
“Of what?” I asked.
"That sometimes," he whispered, "the greatest peace comes when we stop trying so hard. Like the butterfly, you were carried by the breeze, not by effort. That is Wu Wei—non-action. It means letting things happen in their own time, without pushing or pulling."
I didn’t fully understand then. But that day, I slowed down. I walked more gently. I breathed easier. And when a mistake happened in class, I didn’t rush to fix it with panic. I just let it pass, like the wind passing through a tree.
And to my surprise, everything felt lighter.
I still work hard, but I’ve learned to let go of the tight fist inside my chest when things don’t go my way. I remember the butterfly, floating without worry, trusting the Tao to carry him.
I didn’t change overnight. But now, whenever I feel the urge to push too hard, I pause and smile.
Maybe I’m still dreaming, or maybe I’ve finally woken up.
