When Lin-lei was about a hundred years old, one spring he put on a robe and went to pick up grains dropped by the reapers. As he moved across the field, he sang.
Confucius, who was then walking to Wei, saw him from afar. Turning to the students, he said:
“It’s probably worth talking to this old man.” Somebody needs to go see what he has to say.
Tzu-Gong volunteered to go. At the edge of the boundary he waited for Lin-lei. Looking into his face, he sighed:
- Don’t you regret anything? And yet you sing, picking up the grains.
Lin-lei did not stop and did not interrupt the song. Tzu-Gung still did not lag behind. Finally Lin-lei looked at him and answered:
-What should I regret?
- Teacher, what happiness allows you to sing while picking grains?
“Everyone has reasons for this happiness,” answered Lin-lei, smiling, “but, instead, they grieve about it.” Because I did not experience pain in my youth, learning to behave, and, growing up, I never tried to leave a mark in life, I managed to live so long. Because in my old age I have neither a wife nor sons and the time of my death is approaching, I can be so happy.
“But it’s human nature to want to live long and be afraid of death, so why are you happy to die?”
“Death is a return to where we came from when we were born.” So how do I know that when I die here, I am not born somewhere else? How do I know if life and death are not worth each other? How do I know if it’s not a delusion to be so scared about life? How can I know whether my imminent death will be better than my past life?
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru