I was a young boy when I first met the man who forgot himself.
Our village sat at the edge of the quiet mountains. People came and went, but there was one man who always stood out—not because he was loud or strong, but because he was... peaceful. His name was Sui. He wore the same light robe every season and smiled like the wind had whispered a joke only he understood.
People said Sui had once been a great scholar in the city, known by lords and men with wealth. But one day, he walked away. No one knew why.
I was curious. So one morning, I followed him into the forest, my feet crunching leaves as he drifted quietly ahead.
"Why do you live out here all alone?" I asked.
He stopped near a brook and knelt beside it. "Alone?" he said, scooping water with his hand. "The water flows. The birds sing. The sky dances. How could one ever be alone?"
I blinked, not sure what to say.
He looked at me and said, "Tell me, who are you?"
"I'm Chen!" I said proudly.
He smiled gently. "No, I mean... who are you when there’s no name, no village, no chore to do—what remains then?"
I frowned. I didn’t understand.
Days passed, but I kept returning, and he kept asking me the same question. At first, it made me upset. I stomped and shouted once, "I don't know! Isn't knowing my name enough?"
He simply laughed—not to mock, but kindly. “When you know who you are without anything added, peace begins,” he said.
One day, I saw Sui sit beside a tree, still as stone. Hours passed. Birds landed near him; some even perched on his shoulder. He didn’t flinch. He wasn’t asleep. He was just... part of everything.
After that, I paid attention—not just to him, but to the world. I watched how leaves floated in the breeze but never tried to steer it. How water flowed around rocks but never stopped moving. I began to feel something inside me soften.
One rainy afternoon, I sat beside Sui under a wide tree.
"I think I know a little now," I whispered. “When I sit still, the world feels big but not heavy. I don’t feel so... tangled.”
He nodded, not needing to say a word.
Years passed. Sui left one day without a sound. No one saw him go. But the spot where he sat is still my favorite place.
Now, when people ask me who I am, I smile and say, “I’m becoming.”
That day in the forest with Sui didn’t give me all the answers. But I learned that I didn’t have to chase them. I only had to be still, to listen—not just with my ears, but with my whole self.
I no longer try so hard to be someone. I just follow the Way, like the river, like the wind—soft, peaceful, and true.
I was a young boy when I first met the man who forgot himself.
Our village sat at the edge of the quiet mountains. People came and went, but there was one man who always stood out—not because he was loud or strong, but because he was... peaceful. His name was Sui. He wore the same light robe every season and smiled like the wind had whispered a joke only he understood.
People said Sui had once been a great scholar in the city, known by lords and men with wealth. But one day, he walked away. No one knew why.
I was curious. So one morning, I followed him into the forest, my feet crunching leaves as he drifted quietly ahead.
"Why do you live out here all alone?" I asked.
He stopped near a brook and knelt beside it. "Alone?" he said, scooping water with his hand. "The water flows. The birds sing. The sky dances. How could one ever be alone?"
I blinked, not sure what to say.
He looked at me and said, "Tell me, who are you?"
"I'm Chen!" I said proudly.
He smiled gently. "No, I mean... who are you when there’s no name, no village, no chore to do—what remains then?"
I frowned. I didn’t understand.
Days passed, but I kept returning, and he kept asking me the same question. At first, it made me upset. I stomped and shouted once, "I don't know! Isn't knowing my name enough?"
He simply laughed—not to mock, but kindly. “When you know who you are without anything added, peace begins,” he said.
One day, I saw Sui sit beside a tree, still as stone. Hours passed. Birds landed near him; some even perched on his shoulder. He didn’t flinch. He wasn’t asleep. He was just... part of everything.
After that, I paid attention—not just to him, but to the world. I watched how leaves floated in the breeze but never tried to steer it. How water flowed around rocks but never stopped moving. I began to feel something inside me soften.
One rainy afternoon, I sat beside Sui under a wide tree.
"I think I know a little now," I whispered. “When I sit still, the world feels big but not heavy. I don’t feel so... tangled.”
He nodded, not needing to say a word.
Years passed. Sui left one day without a sound. No one saw him go. But the spot where he sat is still my favorite place.
Now, when people ask me who I am, I smile and say, “I’m becoming.”
That day in the forest with Sui didn’t give me all the answers. But I learned that I didn’t have to chase them. I only had to be still, to listen—not just with my ears, but with my whole self.
I no longer try so hard to be someone. I just follow the Way, like the river, like the wind—soft, peaceful, and true.
