The Man Who Carried the Moon

One night, beneath a sky full of stars, a scholar arrived at the tea house. His robes were fine, but his face was weary. He sat before the Daoist master, rubbing his temples as if carrying a great burden.

“Master,” he said, “I have studied the Dao for many years. I have read the great texts, debated with learned men, and written countless essays. And yet, I feel no closer to understanding.”

The master poured tea, watching the steam rise. Then he pointed to the pond outside, where the full moon reflected on the still water.

“Do you see the moon in the pond?” he asked.

The scholar nodded.

“If you wanted to take the moon with you, what would you do?”

The scholar frowned. “That would be impossible. The moon is only a reflection.”

The master smiled. “And yet, you try to carry the Dao in your mind, as if it were something to grasp. But the Dao is not a thing to be held, only a path to be walked.”

The scholar sat in silence. A breeze rippled across the pond, and the moon wavered—but it did not disappear.

He exhaled. Then, for the first time in years, he stopped thinking. He simply drank his tea.

Above them, the real moon shone, needing no explanation.