Becoming Who You Are

A clash between Chuang Tzu and Hui Tzu, #3

Apr 13, 2025

Society has a way of making us believe that we are essentially a social being. Either in a subtle way or through external force, we are, to some extent, entrapped in a circumstance that never stops trying to shape us.

Expectations from our family and closest friends can often drive us to pursuits defined by social conventions: success, power, status, and possession, forcing us to accept the fate of being someone we can never be.

So, deep down, in moments of quietude, we can sense that dissonance within. We realize that while we get busy chasing those external things, we are actually walking away from the original self.

What’s even more painful is that, at some point in life, we realize that the people we trust the most no longer seem to understand us.

Such misunderstandings and judgments often cut deeper than strangers’ criticism, as they challenge the path we’ve chosen and our meaning of existence.

The tension between the original self and the external world’s expectations is nothing new. Hui Tzu and Chuang Tzu had stepped into this clash of worldly pursuits and the inward search.

Sometimes, misunderstanding and distrust between friends can arise not from malice but from the subtle drift of fears, insecurity, aspirations, and values.

Yet, what often arises from the encounter of differences is a clear understanding of what it means to stay true to oneself in a world that attempts to submerge our inner voice.

When Hui Tzu became a politician…

When Hui Tzu was the prime minister of the state of Liang, Chuang Tzu visited him. Someone told Hui Tzu, “Chuang Tzu is coming because he wants to replace you as prime minister!”

So, Hui Tzu was alarmed and searched all over the state for three days and three nights, trying to find his friend.

Then, Chuang Tzu came to see him and said, “In the south there is a bird called the Yuanchu — I wonder if you’ve ever heard of it? The Yuanchu rises up from the South Sea and flies to the North Sea, and it will rest on nothing but the Wutong tree, eat nothing but the fruit of the Lian, and drink only from springs of sweet water.

Once, there was an owl who had gotten hold of a half-rotten old rat, and as the Yuanchu passed by, it raised its head, looked up at the Yuanchu, and said, ‘Shoo!’ Now that you have this Liang state of yours, are you trying to shoo me?”1

Be the guardian of the original self

Hui Tzu did not understand his friend. After all those shared moments of debating, chatting, and philosophical walks, he seemed trapped by his own partial perception of Chuang Tzu.

Perhaps the enlarged ego of becoming a prime minister, someone important and famous, caused the erosion of judgment in Hui Tzu.

Unfortunately, his suspicion and impulsive action of searching for Chuang Tzu belies his wavering trust in his friend. They also speak about his hidden fear and insecurity in the face of power and social status.

Was Chuang Tzu really more outstanding and capable in the eyes of Liang’s ruler? Probably not.

In that case, Hui Tzu’s fear is invalid. It was very much derived from his imagination and speculation. He was worried about losing his power. And he was disturbed by the thought of Chuang Tzu taking his position.

I’m always amused by Chuang Tzu’s use of humor to diffuse his friend’s insecurity and unsubstantiated worry. At the same time, it also reminds me of the frailty of human relations, particularly in the face of such mundane and everyday tests.

Sometimes, we get annoyed that people close to us don’t even honestly know us. This realization brings us pain and inner disturbance.

Or even worse, sometimes it’s the people we trust that hurt us the most. Such is the complexity of human relations, as they reflect the incalculability of the mind and the inconstant human heart.

Yet, still, there is a crucial lesson we may easily forget in these moments of dismay and frustration: that these annoyances are externally imposed on us, and we do not necessarily need to react.

The serenity of the mind is not developed by getting rid of external influences or living under the illusion that there is a stage in life where we will not encounter worries or troubles. It is cultivated by arriving at tranquility in the midst of chaos and disturbance.

Like waves on the sea and sand in the wind, they come and go. And we can observe and simply let them go.

Chuang Tzu did not flee from Hui Tzu’s dispatch team, fearing that his friend would leverage all possible means to imprison, dispel, or even kill him.

But was he disappointed? For a sensitive soul like him, with a penetrative mind, he knew that he must be the one to get both of them from this entanglement.

Therefore, his use of humor in this precarious moment was based on his grasp of Hui Tzu’s personality and peculiar situation and his understanding of human nature’s workings in reacting to things.

So, Chuang Tzu would not blame Hui Tzu. For he knew that Hui Tzu had spent years, countless days and nights, learning, struggling, and improving his knowledge and craft so that he could find something worthwhile to do in this life.

Meaning is what we choose to define our existence, to avoid the soul being eaten up by the abysmal void from within, and to feel alive from an earth-bound experience.

Though the paths chosen were different, Chuang Tzu understood Hui Tzu’s choice and actions.

For Hui Tzu, that means leveraging his philosophy and knowledge for political participation. However, for Chuang Tzu, preserving his authentic way of life mattered more, even if it meant being misunderstood.

Chuang Tzu’s way is defined by solitude, which eventually made him who he became.

He knew what was important to him. He knew all too well what desires, human-centric, and ego-driven actions can do to humanity.

So, in solitude, he was able to experience the state of self-forgetfulness, not just taking himself less seriously but having a profound realization that he, like the myriad things, was simply a part (a temporary existence) of this limitless and constant evolution of things. How could he be shackled by emotional turmoils arising from external judgment? How could he be tethered to temporary, worldly, and fleeting entanglements?

Those who dream of a banquet at night may in the next morning wail and weep. Those who dream of wailing and weeping may in the morning go out to hunt 夢飲酒者，旦而哭泣，夢哭泣者，旦而田獵. When they dream, they do not know that they are dreaming. In their dream, they may even interpret dreams. Only when they are awake, they begin to know that they dreamed. By and by comes the great awakening, and then we shall find out that life itself is a great dream.2

How often do we cling to something already lost and gone and cannot get out of that situation? Sometime later, we come into another experience full of joy, as if nothing happened.

So, Chuang Tzu mingled with the world, which allowed him to see the variety of life forms and common human struggles in the face of entanglement, allures, sensual appeals, and distractions.

There is something deeply unreliable in taking the appearance of things as the foundation of existence.

The discovery of the self came to Chuang Tzu with the awakening that he could not lose his original self while living in this phenomenal world.

It was recorded that Chuang Tzu once had the opportunity to be the prime minister of the state of Chu in the Warring States period (475-221 BC). The government officials asked him why he turned down such an offer. He responded that he wanted to live like the tortoise dragging its tail in the mud.3

When making important life decisions, we are inclined to believe that the law of equivalent exchange justifies our choices.

We can unwittingly plunge into actions either out of necessity, persuaded by ideals or lofty reasons, or encouraged by passion and enthusiasm. When we are preoccupied, we may not be aware of what we will give up or lose.

What is called ‘success’ nowadays is a matter of caps and carriages (rank and honor). Caps and carriages do not belong to one’s person by its nature and destiny. A thing which comes to us by chance is a lodger with us, and we who give it lodging can neither ward off its coming nor stop it going away… ‘Those who abandon their own selves to other things, and lose their nature to the vulgar are to be called “the upside-down people.”4

There is always a price that needs to be paid for what we do. Sooner or later, we will realize that something cannot be exchanged, bought, or traded.

Yet, being entangled with worldly matters, your soul already knows where it wants to go and the calling to return to its original self.

So, the question is: While chasing what we believe matters, how often do we mistake muddy waters for clarity?

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