This is a story from Zhuangzi's Free and Easy Wandering,
One that begins in the mysterious Northern Sea,
Where the ancient Chinese imagined the world's vastness to reside.
There,
In waters beyond all measure,
Lives a fish called Kuin,
So vast that no scale can contain it.
One day,
Kuin transforms into Peng,
A great bird whose back stretches for miles.
With a single beat of its wings,
Peng rises 28,
000 miles into the sky,
Riding the midsummer winds toward the Southern Sea.
Far below,
A cicada and a little dove laugh.
We struggle just to cross a grove of trees,
They say,
And now someone speaks of traveling thousands of miles.
Observe.
Their laughter is not cruel.
It is limited.
Their world is small,
Their horizon near.
They cannot imagine what they have never seen.
Zhuangzi writes,
Small-knowing cannot grasp great-knowing.
The cicada and the dove are not wrong.
They are simply bound by the length of their lives,
By the reach of their sight,
By the scale of their world.
And yet,
Only by glimpsing the possibility of the Peng can we recognize how narrow our sky once was.
Now,
Breathe and consider this.
If your journey is only to the woods nearby,
Three meals will suffice.
If you wish to travel a hundred miles,
You must grain the grain the night before.
If you dream of a thousand miles,
Preparation must begin months ahead.
Depth determines distance.
Pour a cup of water into a hollow in the ground.
A blade of grass may float,
But place a real cup upon it and it sinks.
The water is too shallow.
Only depth can bear weight.
Only steady preparation can carry wings.
So ask yourself gently,
What is the depth you are cultivating?
What quiet,
Patient preparation is building the ground beneath your future flight?
If life is a short flutter from branch to branch,
Simplicity may be enough.
But storms will come,
Seasons will change.
Without depth,
Even a small gust can undo us.
True safety is not in avoiding the wind,
But in building the strength to stand when it blows.
Zhuangzi's teaching is not about chasing stadius or flying higher than others.
It is about creating the inner conditions for freedom.
The quiet,
Resilient power that keeps us from breaking when changes arrive.
And perhaps you too have known the cicada years.
Seasons when life felt hemmed in by the smallest of worries.
The weight of chores,
The stress of language barriers,
The tension of relationships,
The uncertainty of money or health.
I have known them as well.
What carried me through was not a sudden miracle,
But small,
Steady acts.
Learning a little each day,
Moving my body even when tired.
Writing a few lines,
No matter how small.
Perhaps you know this truth too.
These humble daily acts,
Almost invisible at the time,
Become the stored grain for a longer flight.
Reflect on your own journey.
What small actions are you tending to today that may one day become your wings?
To be free and easy,
Zhuangzi reminds us,
Is not to drift aimlessly.
It is to let the heart travel with the heavens beyond fear,
Beyond comparison.
It is not laziness,
But wu wei,
The refusal to let anxiety steer the course.
The aspiration of the pain is not about conquering the skies.
It's about clarity,
To know your direction,
To prepare with patience,
To refuse to be confined by what is small and near.
And when the winds rise,
As they always do,
You will rise too.
Perhaps not to the highest heavens,
But far enough to feel fear losing its grip,
Far enough to say beyond habit and noise,
Far enough to know you are no longer bound.
Breathe once more.
Let these thoughts settle deeply.
When life,
Body and vision expand beyond the short urgencies and small loops,
Freedom appears.
And that quiet,
Steady freedom that is vastness enough.
