Effortless Flow: 3 Parables from Chuang Tzu on Living Mindfully

Explore Chuang Tzu’s timeless wisdom that teaches us the art of finding clarity, letting go of control, and embracing the natural flow of life.

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There’s no better way to enter the world of Chuang Tzu than through his stories and allegories. They offer an enjoyable and inspirational journey, filled with life wisdom, deep philosophical insights, sharp observations of the world, and reflections on human nature.

Next week, I’ll be posting the fifth article in the “Self-discovery” series. In the meantime, feel free to explore the previous posts (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, and Part 4).

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Have you ever found yourself so engaged in a task that time seemed to slip away? It’s as if you become one with the activity, your mind fully immersed and free of distractions.

On the flip side, we've all experienced moments when we are overly self-conscious. Our thoughts wander, and we become disjointed in our actions. This tension between natural flow and self-consciousness is something ancient Taoist philosophers like Chuang Tzu explored deeply.

A key Taoist idea, wu-wei, teaches us how to return to a state of effortless flow by transcending the clutter in our minds. Wu-wei is not about being totally absent from actions but about letting go of compulsive, distracting thoughts and allowing ourselves to act naturally.

When we quiet our inner disturbances, we begin to live in the present moment, aligned with the Tao to flow naturally with our surroundings.

How can we apply this abstract philosophical idea to everyday life? Or is it possible to do so?

Beware the intention of forcing

Once, a sea bird landed in the suburbs of the Kingdom of Lu, and the Duke, eager to honor it, brought it to his temple.

Wanting to offer the bird the best hospitality, he instructed his servants to treat it like a royal guest — lavish meals, splendid music, and a grand reception.

But the seabird, unfamiliar with human customs, didn’t eat or drink. It was overwhelmed and died in three days.

Chuang Tzu criticized the Duke’s good intentions by saying,

This is the method of keeping birds by one’s own (human) standard, and not by the standard of a bird, by what man imagines the bird likes, and not by what the bird itself likes. To keep a bird by what the bird likes, one should let it loose in a deep forest, let it fly over ponds and islets and float over lakes and rivers. One should feed it with little eels and let it fly or stop where it pleases. How foolish it is to make so much noise with an orchestra when its only fear is human voices?¹

This parable reveals a common issue in our lives: forcing our will on others based on our own assumptions. We often impose our desires, wishes, or beliefs on people around us, assuming we know what’s best, whether it’s in relationships or the workplace.

One of the many reasons we encounter obstacles in our specific environments is our subjectivity. The paradox of having subjective views on things is that we have an ingrained habit of following our intuition and judgment, which we have accumulated through learning and experience.

Yet, when abused, this ability to form personal perceptions can obstruct our spontaneous interactions with our circumstances.

It is easier to be captivated by our egocentric perceptions and ways of doing things than to let things unfold naturally. When driven by our excessive subjectivity and preferences, we tend to force our views on what is right and wrong on others, jeopardizing the natural flow of social dynamics.

Therefore, it all comes down to being aware of and, when necessary, letting go of our fixations on particular ideas and values. When we become conscious of the inherent differences among people and things, we can genuinely flow with the tide instead of swimming against it.

True mindfulness involves recognizing and respecting differences. And being aware of these differences constitutes a comprehensive understanding of things. Doing so makes it possible to follow one’s natural course rather than forcing one into a mold that suits us.

Do you succumb to this kind of emotional triggers?

“If a man could succeed in making himself empty and, in that way, wander through the world, then who could do him harm?” 

Chuang Tzu

In ancient China, a man would regularly commute by boat along a river. One day, as he sailed across the water, an empty boat drifted into his path and bumped into his vessel.²

He was momentarily irritated by the collision and prepared to confront the person steering the other boat. It turned out that it was an empty boat floating aimlessly around in the river. After realizing this, his anger disappeared. How could he be angry with an empty boat?

Sometime later, he encountered another boat on the river. This time, there was a man aboard, and when their ships collided, he immediately shouted a warning. However, the man gave no response.

Irritated, the commuter repeated his shout, but again, there was no reaction. To him, this silence felt like intentional disregard.

His frustration grew, and on the third shout, it escalated into a curse. He became angry at the fisherman because he did not expect the situation to become like this.

This minor incident consumed his thoughts for the rest of the day, ruining his peace of mind.

It's easy to become slaves to our emotions, desires, and impulses. In today’s fast-paced world, we are constantly bombarded by emotional triggers, which makes developing a calm mind a challenge.

But if we learn to remain calm in the face of these triggers, we can avoid many unnecessary troubles—and that is something within our control.

When we examine the roots of our emotional outbursts, we often find they stem from our egocentric view of ourselves. In short, we take ourselves too seriously. This over-attachment to our ego makes us prone to anger and frustration in conflicts, arguments, and social strife.

The philosophy of wu-wei teaches us to let go of these ego-driven distractions, allowing us to flow naturally through life without causing conflict.

Since we cannot control the actions of others, why let them disturb our peace? In situations of critical importance, such as life and death, we might even ask ourselves: Why did I allow myself to get into this position? Why didn’t I plan for this crisis ahead of time?

The unrestrained soul

One day, Chuang Tzu and his disciple were walking along a mountain path and they came across a massive tree with thick branches and lush leaves.

A woodcutter approached the tree, examined it carefully, and then turned away without cutting it down.

Chuang Tzu, curious, asked the woodcutter why he chose not to cut the tree. The woodcutter replied, “This tree is worthless. Its wood is no good for making anything.”

Chuang Tzu smiled and remarked to his disciple that the tree could live out its years in peace precisely because it was considered worthless.

Later that day, they visited a friend who was eager to host them. The friend asked his son to prepare a goose for a feast. The son, unsure which goose to kill, asked whether he should take the one that could cackle or the one that couldn’t. The father replied, “Kill the one that cannot cackle.”

On their way home the next day, the disciple, still pondering the two events, asked Chuang Tzu about the contradiction. The tree was saved because of its uselessness, while the goose was killed for the same reason. Which position, he wondered, was better to take—worth or worthlessness? So, he asked the master what position to choose if he were in such a situation.

Chuang Tzu responded that he would “take a position halfway between worth and worthlessness.”³ Even then, he acknowledged, no position can truly keep one safe from harm.

Instead, he emphasized that if a person could remain adaptable and flexible, flowing with the changes of life, they could rise above trouble. By treating things as things without becoming attached to or controlled by them, one can walk away from precarious situations with spiritual freedom.

In our own lives, we often find satisfaction in the recognition we receive from others, whether from our achievements or the identities we adopt. These external labels help us navigate the social world and give us a sense of purpose.

In other words, identities and labels can empower us in specific situations while also becoming shackles that inhibit us. The message is that when we become overly fixated on them, we risk becoming entangled in expectations and circumstances beyond our control.

Chuang Tzu’s idea of living “halfway between worth and worthlessness” is a reflection of his deeper awareness that rigidly attaching ourselves to any fixed reality is limiting. Life is constantly in flux, and to navigate its unpredictable nature, we need to let go of our attachments and accept the possibility of change.

Of course, living an unattached life has its costs and looks impossible. We may need to make sacrifices to align ourselves with our true values.

But by taking control of our actions and choosing to let go of the need for external recognition, we can free ourselves from the anxieties of life’s uncertainties. This is the key to living as an unrestrained soul, moving fluidly through life without being weighed down by the need for approval or control.

1. Yutang, Lin, The Wisdom of Laotse, 229.

2. Burton Watson, “The Mountain Tree,” in The Complete Works of Zhuangzi (New York: Columbia University Press, 2012), 158-159. Translation Modified.

3. Ibid., 156.