Suyahu, Runan, Henan, China
Since childhood, I was not taught Chinese traditional philosophy as a formal system, nor were these ideas presented as belonging to any particular tradition. Instead, they came to me quietly, through everyday life. For example, my parents often encouraged us to learn from water.
On rainy days, they would point to the falling drops and show us how something so soft could, over time, wear away stone. I observed that this was indeed true—under the eaves of our house and along the stone steps at the entrance, the steady dripping of rain had carved small hollows into the surface.
Standing on narrow ridges between fields in the countryside, looking out over winding streams, my parents would tell us: water does not stop because it encounters obstacles. It finds another way. If it cannot move in a straight line, it flows in curves day and night, without ceasing, always moving forward to the sea. And even when a river runs dry and never reaches the sea, it has still done its best, and has no cause for regret.
During our teenage years, when we were often impulsive and strong-willed, my parents continued to use water as our teacher. They would remind us that water is the softest of things, yet it endures, while what is rigid is easily broken. My father would often point to the water in the pond and say to me, especially when I was inclined to see the world in black and white and judge too harshly: “When water is too clear, fish cannot survive; when a person is too exacting, friendships cannot endure.”
My parents were intellectuals rooted in rural life. People often came to them for help, and they would assist whenever they could, without calculating gain or loss. When we, as children, questioned why kindness was not always returned in kind, they would say: we do what is right, and that is enough—there is no need to measure others’ responses. Does water nourish all things and ask for something in return? Over time, the people in the village came to trust and respect them deeply. When my parents proposed something, it was often carried out smoothly.
Our understanding and love of history did not come from textbooks, but grew gradually through these everyday conversations during our daily meals. Once, I asked my father: why do peasants rise up? And why is it that after such uprisings, a dynasty often collapses and is replaced by a new one? My father answered patiently: farmers work the land and hand over most of their grain, yet what remains is not enough to sustain their lives. When people can no longer survive, they will naturally resist. Then he added: “Those in power are like the boat; the ordinary people are like the water. Water can carry the boat, but it can also overturn it.”
As a child, I would pull a heavy cart with my parents, loaded with the best grain our family had, to deliver as agricultural tax to the government. We would be drenched in sweat along the way, and upon arrival, we still had to face strict inspection standards. Watching the exhaustion and quiet suffering on my parents’ faces, and on those of other farmers, I found myself returning again and again to the meaning of “water and the boat.”
Starting in 2004, China began to gradually reduce agricultural taxes. By 2006, farmers no longer had to submit grain or pay any agricultural taxes at all; instead, they began to receive subsidies. This marked the end of a system that had lasted for thousands of years. Over time, I witnessed visible changes in rural life steadily, life became more stable, more hopeful, with people having land to cultivate. Only then did I come to more deeply understand: the relationship between water and the boat depends on how water is treated.
Now, in midlife, these lessons from water continue to guide me. I am still learning from these wisdoms, continuing my personal cultivation, and I have begun to pass these understandings on to my own children and my students.
Quotes：
“The highest good is like water. Water benefits all things and does not compete.” (Laozi, Daodejing, Chapter 8)
“Nothing in the world is as soft and yielding as water. Yet for dissolving the hard and inflexible, nothing can surpass it, because nothing can replace it.” (Laozi, Daodejing, Chapter 78)
“The wise delight in water; the benevolent delight in mountains. The wise are active; the benevolent are still. The wise find joy; the benevolent endure.” (Confucius, Analects 6.23)
“What passes away is like this, never ceasing day or night.” (Confucius, Analects 9.17)
“Just as clear water reflects the moon, so a calm mind reflects reality.” (Buddhist teaching)
“Clear water has no fish; a critical person has no friends.” (Chinese proverb)
“The ruler is the boat, the people are the water. Water can support a boat or overturn it.” (Xunzi, “Wangzhi” / The Way of Kingship)
To read a version of this post in Chinese, see here.
Zhu Yan is a research scholar specializing in China and ecological civilization. Her work focuses on forest biodiversity, exploring how diverse species coexist and the mechanisms that sustain this diversity and ecosystem functions in large-scale forest communities, with particular attention to density dependence and its impact on population dynamics and community assembly. She is committed to advancing cross-cultural understanding, research collaboration, and knowledge exchange in support of ecological civilization.