A young scholar once travelled across the land to meet a revered Zen master. He had studied scriptures, philosophies, sciences, and poetry. His shelves were lined with books; his head, with knowledge.
“I’ve read almost everything,” he told the master, “but I seek deeper wisdom. Teach me.”
The master nodded and invited him for tea.
As the scholar spoke — about his views, his interpretations, his brilliance — the master began to pour tea into his cup.
He poured. And poured. And kept pouring, even after the cup overflowed.
“Stop!” the scholar exclaimed. “It’s spilling over! Can’t you see the cup is full?”
The master gently placed the kettle down and looked at him.
“Exactly,” he said. “How can I teach you anything unless you first empty your cup?”
I’m reminded of this story often — especially when I catch myself, or others, believing we’ve seen enough, learned enough, suffered enough. That we somehow know more than others.
That’s when I remind myself: it’s time to empty the cup.
The scholar, filled with knowledge and assumptions, had no room left for insight. The master’s simple gesture revealed a profound truth — that true learning begins only when we are willing to let go of what we think we know.
We grow up with a certain idea of how life should unfold — who’s ahead, who’s struggling, who’s “meant” to succeed. Sometimes, those early impressions stick. The ones who topped every test, shone in every competition — they seemed destined for greatness. And some of us just quietly accepted our place in the background.
But life has its own rhythm. It flips the script in unexpected ways. The brightest stars at 16 may not shine the same way at 40. The ones who stumbled early might find their pace later. And those who seemed “lucky” may simply have been quietly navigating their path, making the best of each twist and turn.
It’s tempting to blame fate — for what didn’t go right, for the dreams that didn’t materialize. But sometimes, clinging to the story of “bad luck” becomes a shield — one that protects us from confronting our own choices, or even acknowledging that everyone’s fighting their own silent battles.
The narratives we construct about ourselves and others often don't hold up to reality. True peace comes not from winning or proving ourselves, but from emptying our cup full of comparisons, old narratives, and the need for external validation.
May we learn to approach life with humility of an empty cup and may we find peace and wisdom in embracing the beauty of the unknown.
Comments
Post a Comment