The Man Who Chased the Wind

One evening, as the last light of the sun melted into the mountains, a traveler entered the tea house. His robes were dusty, his face weary, and his breath short, as if he had been running for a long time. He sat before the Daoist master, who poured him a cup of tea without a word.

The traveler gulped down the tea in one motion and leaned forward. “Master, I have traveled across mountains and rivers, through cities and villages, searching for the Dao. I have read countless books, met many teachers, but I still do not understand. Tell me, where can I find it?”

The master sipped his tea. Then, after a moment, he asked, “Why were you running when you arrived?”

The traveler wiped his forehead. “I was chasing the wind. I saw a great gust move through the valley, rustling the trees, and I thought—if I could only catch it, I might understand its nature.”

The master chuckled. “And did you catch it?”

The traveler frowned. “Of course not. The wind cannot be caught.”

The master nodded. “And yet, you are chasing the Dao in the same way.”

The traveler’s eyes widened.

The master continued, “The Dao is like the wind—it moves through all things, yet cannot be grasped. You do not chase it. You let it carry you.”

The traveler sat in silence. Then, he exhaled, as if releasing something heavy.

The wind outside whispered through the trees, and for the first time, the traveler did not try to chase it.

He simply listened.