empty your boat

On a quiet Thursday afternoon in the 4th Century BCE, the Taoist philosopher Zhuangzi was sitting around with his very best friends. They were sipping jasmine tea, opening sunflower seeds with their teeth, eating some of those intense salted prunes. Oh, they were having a moment! These were guys who all enjoyed a good philosophical tussle, and their conversations were animated, rich, sometimes deeply serious, sometimes absolutely hilarious. I like to think they cracked each other up and also had good cries together (Egad, I'm talking myself into missing them!). Zhuangzi was the storyteller among them (and also Teacher's Pet to the more well-known Laozi), and so his perspective on things has stuck with us. 

Zhuangzi's friend, Ralphzi*, was pissed off at someone. Who knows why; probably the same stuff we get annoyed by now. Someone had knocked over Ralphzi's wheelbarrow, and the pigs had then snarfed down the day's harvest. Someone laughed when he tripped on his robe, right in front of someone else he was trying to impress. Who knows. 

Zhuangzi doesn't seem all that sympathetic with Ralphzi's situation that afternoon. His take on things sounds holier-than-thou, but I think he was really trying to help Ralphzi get a grip. He said something like this, which you can find any number of places online (so forgive me for not citing):
If a man is crossing a river and an empty boat collides with his own skiff,

even though he be a bad-tempered man he will not become very angry.
But if he sees a man in the boat, he will shout at him to steer clear.
If the shout is not heard, he will shout again, and yet again, and begin cursing.
And all because there is somebody in the boat.
Yet if the boat were empty, he would not be shouting, and not angry.

If you can empty your own boat crossing the river of the world,
no one will oppose you, no one will seek to harm you....

I first came across that parable about 20 years ago. It stopped me mid-sip and mid-sunflower seed. I clung to it for awhile, and tried to take in its message as I thought it applied to my life. I was struggling through my divorce and confused, hurt, and sad that this person seemed so intent on ramming his boat into mine. I had hurt him badly, but had tried very, very hard not to. I couldn't understand why he seemed to want to capsize my boat. I tried to envision his boat as empty, so that I wouldn't be so hurt and so angry. I pictured myself gently pushing his vacant skiff out of the way and keeping to my own wobbly path down the river. 

It's only lately that I am realizing how badly I've misunderstood Zhuangzi's message. I don't know how I missed it; it's the whole point: it's my boat I need to empty. Duh (or as the Chinese say, te*). 

ALL of which is to say that I've been thinking about the matter of having at least one client who is reading this blog. And I am trying to empty my boat. It is lifelong work, this boat-emptying, especially since I feel like I need to hop back into it to bail it out now and then. But, if you can follow me: I think I am meant to write freely, and I think I am meant to tell my stories, freely. I don't think they will last through time, but they will guide me through my time on this river, on this earth. 

And I do so enjoy sipping tea and eating seeds with you, sometimes laughing and sometimes crying. It is good being with you this Thursday afternoon, my friends.

*to protect his privacy, I have changed Zhuangzi's friend's name. In fact, I made up the whole story of Zhuangzi hanging out with his friends. There might not have been a group of men under a tree, sunflower seeds, or tea -- and there's only one in 7 chance it was a Thursday. Also, if Laozi meant all the stuff he said in the Tao te Ching, it is unlikely that he had a teacher's pet.
* ALSO not true! It's a linguistic/pronunciation joke. I don't know what is becoming of me: this may be a side effect of no one being in the boat.