Zhuang Tzu's wife died, and the Creator of Good came to mourn her. Chuang Tzu sat on his haunches and sang, striking a beat on a clay basin.
The Creator of Good said:
- Not only do you not mourn the deceased, who lived with you, her husband, until old age, and raised children. Are you allowing yourself too much, indulging in singing, beating time on your pelvis?
“That is not so,” replied Chuang Tzu. — Could I not be saddened by her death? But then I thought about what happened in the beginning, when she was not yet born, not only not born, but not yet possessing a body, not only a body, but even an ether. Merged with the indifferent, elusive, it began to develop and acquired ether, the ether developed and acquired a body, the body developed and acquired life. Now she has gone through a new development - death. All this replaced each other like the seasons: spring and autumn, summer and winter. And I realized that crying and wailing when she rests in a huge house means not understanding life. That's why I stopped.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru