A long time ago, Confucius and his students walked on a road to the kingdom of Wei. They stumbled upon a hermit at least a hundred years old. The man was gathering some grain that farmers had dropped and he was singing while doing so.
One of the students, a young man named Tzu-Kung, was confused. He couldn’t comprehend why the old hermit was so happy, as he must have been very poor and alone, having to scour for harvest scraps. Tzu-Kung walked over to the hermit and showed compassion for his sad fate.
But the old man smiled and said: “Why do you feel sorry for me? Am I that pathetic in your eyes? ” “Well, sir,” Tzu-Kung said, “I assumed you didn’t work hard in your younger years and didn’t care about success and status.
And so you couldn’t find a wife and have children to look after you. You’re all alone. How could you laugh and sing?
” “Listen, young man,” the hermit said, “I laugh and sing because I feel happy! If I had worked hard in my younger years, competing with others, I wouldn’t have gotten so old and healthy. And not having a wife and children?
That’s great. I don’t have to worry about their lives either. It’s peaceful.
Why shouldn’t I laugh and sing? ” This story is from a Taoist scripture called Lieh Tzu. It shows a typical Taoist way of thinking, namely, that there’s always gain in what we perceive as loss.
Even though the elderly man is not conventionally well-off, he is quite the archetypical “loser” in today’s language; he’s well aware of his many blessings in disguise. But for most people, it’s probably challenging to have this attitude. We’re easily swayed by societal standards and concerned with other people’s opinions.
This is where Taoist philosophy becomes especially valuable. It contains the wisdom to worry less, not just about what other people think but about almost anything. Isn’t that something we need today?
Just look around—distractions are everywhere, and times are changing rapidly. Life is stressful and demanding, with many suffering from burnout and depression and others on the verge. This video shares three insights from ancient Taoist sages to help you care less in an overly serious world.
If you want to support Einzelgänger, consider joining my Patreon page, which allows access to ad-free videos and free merch. Thank you, and I hope you’ll enjoy this video. The Taoist sage Zhuangzi observed long ago how people are hung up on things like fame, wealth, and status.
In his time, people pursued luxuries, such as expensive food and fine clothes, and traveled to far places to enjoy the sights. Today, we see nothing has changed. Moreover, our modern-day media constantly pressures us to live a high life.
Our tendency to seek out that new, shiny thing, whether luxury or experience, is being exploited. The more lavish, the better. Society teaches us to have great careers, big houses, nice cars.
We get raised under the imperative to be successful and, if possible, wealthy. Material success, status, and achievement are the metrics by which we decide people’s worth. It’s what the world “honors,” argues Zhuangzi.
“If they do not got these things, they are very sorrowful and go on to be troubled with fears,” he said. Once you commit yourself to pursuing all these celebrated external things, it seems to be never enough. Once you get a nice car, you will likely want a better one.
Once you have your dream house, things get old quickly; the luxury no longer feels that special. The euphoric happiness generated by this once so-much-desired (but pricey) house fades into normalcy. But despite not feeling much happier in the long run, you still have to make your mortgage payments.
Over time, you become trapped—a slave to your possessions. From Zhuangzi’s viewpoint, this is a stressful mode of living. People living like this wear themselves out.
“This is a stupid way to treat the body,” he stated. And isn’t he correct, looking at the rates of burnout, anxiety, and depression in modern-day societies? In pursuit of riches, we are wearing ourselves out.
In the quest for fame on social media, we’re exploiting ourselves. We’re doing it because we think it makes us happy. Many do it so other people hold them in high esteem.
Others do it to belong, but they’re nothing more than cogs in the consumerist machine: a never-ending pursuit of stuff and fame that never satisfies, rarely leading to lasting happiness; something ancient Greek philosopher Epicurus also realized, as he saw many of the things we pursue nowadays as unnecessary and vain. At the same time, Zhuangzi observed that people look down on poverty, bad reputation, and what we’d call “irrelevance” today. Nobody wants to be a nobody.
You don’t want to be a loser, do you? Losers are the modern-day untouchables. These people don’t have the finest clothes, don’t eat oysters and caviar, and don’t get to see the many fabulous sights of the world.
They are to be met with contempt and avoidance. But Zhuangzi said we can’t judge right and wrong by the world’s standards. He proposes “doing nothing,” as doing nothing leads to perfect enjoyment.
“Heaven does nothing, and thence comes its serenity; Earth does nothing, and thence comes its rest,” he stated. We could ask ourselves: do all these external things truly make us happy? Or can happiness be found in the simplest things?
Isn’t the mere cessation of trying to pursue happiness when happiness arises? The reason we’re unhappy seems to be that we try too hard to be happy. And we do so following a dead-end path.
How about we stop striving and let enjoyment unfold? Our achievement society scares us into being useful, self-exploiting members of the capitalist system. We’re expected to be good for “something” to participate in the rat race and to be successful in what we do so we can respect ourselves and gain the respect of others.
From the Taoist point of view, we’re all playing a silly game. We adopt specific beliefs, mark them as the truth, and act accordingly, taking it all very seriously. Hence, we care greatly about walking in line and what people think about us.
People generally fear being disliked and seen as odd, worthless, or inadequate, whatever that means. Most people spend their lives conforming to what society values: having many friends, having a good job, starting a family, and being a useful member of society: “I’m a hard-working, god-fearing, freedom-loving American. And I’m proud of it!
” Of course, if you earned your rank in the game, there’s no shame in looking down on those we didn’t. But as Zhuangzi said, we can’t judge right and wrong by the world’s standards. The majority may agree on something, but that doesn’t mean it’s a universal truth.
Taoist sages generally love crushing conventional beliefs. For example, suppose everyone thinks that being ‘unambitious’ is bad. As Zhuangzi might argue, because of this, people fret greatly about not being seen as unambitious.
So, they chase promotions, flaunt their career ambitions, and spend hours discussing their new roles and future plans—just to prove to others that they’re driven and worthy of admiration. People who lack such aspirations are generally frowned upon. And for many, that’s frightening.
But the Taoist sages challenge us to look beyond societal conditioning. In this case, we could ask ourselves: Is being unambitious truly bad? Is following your ambition really worth the daily stress?
What if we choose not to be ambitious—or even refuse to be cogs in the machine? How about we become like the elderly hermit, turning our backs on societal expectations? Would we be worse off or not?
What comes to mind is the story of the useless tree, one of the most profound parables that turns the world upside down in a Taoist fashion. Carpenter Shih and his apprentice once passed a massive oak standing by the village shrine. The oak’s branches could easily shelter hundreds of oxen during rainfall.
Around the oak gathered dozens of people, amazed by its size and beauty. The apprentice said: “Wow, I’ve never seen such a beautiful tree. But you don’t even care to look at it.
Why is that? ” “Are you kidding me? ” said the carpenter.
“This tree is worthless! Can’t you see how crooked it is? Make boats of it, and they’ll sink; make closets or doors, and they’ll rot instantly!
It’s useless! ” That night, the carpenter dreamed the crooked tree spoke to him. “Listen, buddy,” the tree said.
“I heard you talk. You think I’m worthless, not good for anything. And that’s true to an extent.
Just look at the apple and orange trees. They’re useful. They bring about fruits, which is why people love them.
But look at their existence. They’re being exploited. When their fruits are ripe, they’re subjected to abuse.
Their big branches are broken off; they’re pulled and jerked around. And when they don’t produce anymore, they’re cut down. Do you see how their utility makes their lives miserable?
They can’t even live out the full years Heaven intended for them. I, on the other hand, am of no use. And being useless turned out to be of great use to me.
If I had been useful, would I’ve grown this big? I owe my long life to being useless. ” As we see in the story, uselessness, which is generally seen as a bad trait (especially in our achievement society), was a benefit for the tree.
It reminds us of the old hermit whose unfortunate life, by societal standards, hid a blessing in disguise. There’s always some gain in loss. The trick is to discover it.
Pei-kung-tzu and Hsi-men-tzu, long-separated friends, met again one day. Pei-kung-tzu was astonished at how different their lives turned out. His old friend became wealthy, successful, and respected, but he turned out very poor, and most people didn’t like or trust him.
Pei-kung-tzu complained, and I quote: “When we both took office in government, you were promoted, and I was dismissed. When we both farmed, even the earth cooperated with you and not with me. When we traded together, you made profits and I lost.
This is really unfair! ” End quote. He continued complaining about wearing old clothing, eating food usually given to pigs, living in a broken shack, and being unable to afford a cart.
In contrast, his old friend ate the best foods, lived in a giant mansion, and traveled in a luxury vehicle. Didn’t they both have the same background and education? Why did their fates deviate so much?
When Pei-kung-tzu confronted his old friend with this perceived unfairness, Hsi-men-tzu exploded, telling him that his success in life stems from being more virtuous and, therefore, more worthy in the eyes of others. Of course, Pei-kung-tzu felt depressed after this slap in the face and sought consolation from the village sage. The sage asked why Hsi-men-tzu insulted his old friend, who explained that Pei-kung-tzu simply couldn’t stand that he was less worthy than himself.
But the sage corrected him, explaining that worthiness cannot be measured by social or political success. He had simply more luck in life. I quote: “You are successful in society not because you are particularly wise or virtuous but because you have luck in everything you do.
On the other hand, Pei-kung-tzu’s failure to be recognized is not due to stupidity or lack of virtue. It’s because he does not have luck in everything he does. ” End quote.
When Pei-kung-tzu heard what the sage said to his old friend, he felt OK with his situation. He no longer let his lack of luck be a reason for unhappiness. The story shows us that embracing fate and finding contentment, whether rich or poor, successful or not, leads to inner peace.
We often can’t do much about how things work out around us, but we can cultivate our attitudes toward these things. Usually, our best bet is to let things go their natural course and focus on how we navigate through them instead of trying to control them. Is there a more relaxing attitude in a fast-paced, stressful world than letting all these attachments and must-haves slide and take life however it comes?
Who’s more successful? The wealthy person waking up dissatisfied every morning, always chasing more? Or the poor, waking up content, happy with whatever the Heavens give him?
Thank you for watching.
