Zhuangzi was an ancient Taoist philosopher who believed that life
doesn’t have to feel so serious. While many other thinkers talked about rules, duties,
and how people should behave, Zhuangzi focused on enjoying life as it is. He shared funny and
imaginative stories - like a fish turning into a bird or dreaming he was a butterfly. At first,
they might seem like simple tales, but his point was clear: when we stop taking life too seriously,
we feel lighter and more at peace. For Zhuangzi, being playful didn’t
mean avoiding what needs to be done. It meant living without the constant pressure, fear,
or need to compete with others. When we stop trying to force things and just go with the flow,
life becomes easier. What once felt difficult can start to feel natural and even enjoyable.
Today, many of us forget this. We keep pushing ourselves to be productive, to prove our worth,
and to stay ahead. In the process, we lose our sense of joy. Zhuangzi reminds us that
it’s okay to slow down, to take things as they come, and to relax a little.
So in this video, we’re going to look at seven simple ways to live a joyful life no matter what,
based on the philosophy… of Zhuangzi. Laugh at Life’s Contradictions
Zhuangzi says “Those who run from what is within them are like those
who try to flee their own shadow. The more they run, the closer it follows.”
Zhuangzi often used humor to help us notice how easily we trap ourselves in our own minds. One
of his stories tells of a man who was terrified of his shadow and the sound
of his footsteps. Convinced they were chasing him, he began to run. But the faster he ran,
the louder the footsteps became, and the shadow stayed right by his side. In the end,
he collapsed from exhaustion - never realizing that if he had simply stopped, both the footsteps
and the shadow would have rested with him. At first, the story sounds absurd. Who
would be afraid of their own shadow? But that’s exactly Zhuangzi’s point. Much of
what troubles us is no more real than that man’s fear. We run from worries,
doubts, and judgments in the same way, and the more we resist them, the bigger they appear.
Life is full of such contradictions. We work harder and harder to find rest. We chase success
to feel secure, yet the more we achieve, the more insecure we often feel. We try to control
everything in the hope of creating peace, but end up creating stress. Sometimes the very effort
to fix a problem is what makes it heavier. Zhuangzi’s response is not to push harder,
but to laugh. When we can see the absurdity in our own struggles, their grip loosens. Laughter
doesn’t mean ignoring life’s challenges - it means lifting the weight we put on them. Sometimes just
pausing and saying, “This is actually kind of funny,” is enough to break the cycle.
Humor frees us because it changes how we hold our experiences. The moment we laugh,
even softly, we step outside the heaviness we’ve wrapped around ourselves. The situation
may be the same, but our way of relating to it shifts. A burden turns into a story.
We’ve all experienced this. Think of a time when you were frustrated - stuck in traffic,
waiting in a long line, or beating yourself up over a mistake. At that moment,
it felt unbearable. But later, when you laughed about it with a friend, the weight was gone. The
event hadn’t changed, but your perspective had. This is why Zhuangzi told stories that sounded
strange or absurd. Absurdity wakes us up. It shows us that what we take so seriously may not be so
serious after all. The man running from his shadow is funny precisely because it mirrors how we live
- running from fears that were never chasing us. Humor reminds us that freedom is not always about
solving life’s puzzles, but sometimes about seeing the comedy in them. When you can smile at your own
shadow, you realize you were free all along. So the next time you find yourself stuck in
a loop—checking your phone again and again for a reply, worrying
about something beyond your reach—pause. Notice the absurdity of it, as if you were
watching a scene in a play. Then smile gently. When we stop treating every worry so seriously,
we start to relax. We stop running. And in that stillness, even our shadow rests with us.
2. See Life as a Dream
Zhuangzi asks “How do I know that what I call waking is not a dream?
How do I know that what I call dreaming is not waking?”
One of Zhuangzi’s most famous stories is the “Butterfly Dream.” He once dreamt he was a
butterfly, fluttering freely, enjoying the breeze. In the dream, he was only a butterfly - he did not
know he was Zhuangzi. But when he awoke, he found himself once again Zhuangzi, the philosopher.
This left him wondering: was he Zhuangzi who had dreamt of being a butterfly,
or a butterfly now dreaming he was Zhuangzi? He was pointing out that life isn’t as solid
or fixed as we think. We hold tightly to who we believe we are: our roles,
successes, and failures. But these things change, just like dreams.
Think about your own life. Something that once felt huge - maybe a heartbreak, a fear, or even
a big achievement - now feels distant. At the time, it felt like everything, but now it’s faded
into memory. That’s how life works. What feels so important today often becomes lighter with time.
When we see this, we stop holding things so tightly. Life doesn’t have to be carried with
so much weight. Success doesn’t have to make us proud, and failure doesn’t have to crush us. Even
anger and sadness don’t have to stay forever. They come and go, just like moments in a dream.
This doesn’t mean life has no meaning. Dreams still make us feel things - joy,
sadness, excitement - and so does life. Zhuangzi’s message is to live fully,
but without clinging. We can care deeply, work hard, and love sincerely,
while remembering that everything changes When we see life as a dream, we stop getting
trapped by every event. An argument becomes just one small moment, not the whole story.
Losing something doesn’t feel like the end—it’s just another turn in life’s flow.
We’re not fixed people; we’re always changing, just like Zhuangzi shifting between butterfly
and man. Whether butterfly or man, success or failure, gain or loss, all of it belongs to the
same larger mystery. When we live with this understanding, the heart relaxes. Life feels
easier. And in that calm space, a quiet kind of joy begins to appear on its own.
3. Let Go of Rigidity
Zhuangzi advises us to “Flow with whatever may happen, and let your mind be free. Stay
centered by accepting whatever you are doing. This is the ultimate.”
Zhuangzi once shared a story about a woodcarver named Qing. Qing was known
for making beautiful things from wood. One day, he made a bell stand so perfect that
people said it must have been made by spirits. The Duke asked how he achieved such perfection.
Qing told the Duke that he prepared himself carefully before starting. He would fast and
quiet his mind until he no longer thought about praise or reward. Over time, he even forgot about
reputation, criticism, and finally, his own self. Only then would he enter the forest to
find the right tree. He would look for a tree that already held the shape of the bell stand
within it. When he found it, he would carefully remove only what was extra. If he did not see it,
he would leave the tree alone. He never forced the wood; he simply followed what was already there.
This story shows the idea of wu wei, or effortless action. It means moving in
harmony with life instead of forcing things or struggling against them.
Life is like the woodcarver’s tree. Every person we meet and every situation we face
has its own natural form. When we try to control everything, we create tension and frustration.
This often comes from fear — fear of failure, fear of the unknown, fear that things will
go wrong. From childhood, we are taught to plan, achieve, and follow rules. Over time,
we become attached to how things should be. When life does not match our expectations,
we feel anxious, frustrated, or stuck. Zhuangzi does not say we should avoid planning,
but he reminds us that life is always moving. Plans change, people change,
and circumstances shift. That is okay. A missed opportunity, a canceled plan,
or an unexpected challenge can create space for learning, growth, or a path we had not imagined.
The practice is simple. When life changes, instead of asking why things are not going our way,
we can ask how to move with it. For example, in relationships,
we may care deeply for someone and find ourselves constantly checking in, worrying,
or trying to control the connection. That is forcing things. A wiser approach is to step back,
give space, and allow the relationship to develop naturally. This does not mean withdrawing care.
It means being patient, kind, and trusting that people will respond in their own time.
The same applies to work or career. After a job interview or a big opportunity, it is easy to
obsess — checking emails, replaying every moment, or trying to influence the outcome. Wu wei teaches
a different approach: do your best and then allow the process to unfold. Focus on what you can
control — your preparation, skills, and mindset — and let the rest happen naturally. Letting go
of force means moving with life, trusting the natural flow, and acting at the right moment.
4. Let go of the labels Zhuangzi once considered
"What is good? What is bad? Opinions differ, and the disputes never end. Yet,
whether right or wrong, good or bad, the Way makes them all into one."
Zhuangzi tells the story of a monkey keeper who had only a limited number of chestnuts to feed his
monkeys. At first, he told them: “You will get three in the morning and four in the evening.”
The monkeys became upset, feeling cheated. So he said: “Fine, you will get four in
the morning and three in the evening.” Hearing this, the monkeys were delighted.
But their joy or anger came entirely from the way the keeper described it, the label attached
to the situation. The chestnuts themselves never changed. What changed was the story around them.
“Three in the morning and four in the evening” was labeled by the monkeys as unfair,
while “four in the morning and three in the evening” was labeled as generous. Yet both
were the same reality - seven chestnuts. Their emotions rose and fell not from
truth but from the label they gave it. This is what Zhuangzi wanted us to see:
much of our happiness or suffering is created not by life itself, but by the labels we stick
on it. We say, “This is success,” “That is failure,” “This is a blessing,” “That
is a loss.” Once the label is in place, we live inside it as if it were absolute truth.
Imagine being called “a failure” because you lost a job. That single word reduces your entire self
to one event, when in reality you are much more than that. Or think about relationships:
someone may call you “a good friend” or “a bad friend,” but those labels miss
the complexity of who you are. You are not a single definition; you are a living, breathing,
changing being, like water flowing in a river. Letting go of labels does not mean ignoring
reality. It means refusing to be trapped by narrow definitions. So no, a job loss is not “the end”,
because it’s also the start of something new. A difficult period in life is not
“bad” because it can be a turning point. Even the labels we give ourselves - “I’m shy,” “I’m
not talented,” or even “I’m successful” - can become cages. The more we cling to these names,
the less room we leave for growth. Zhuangzi tells us that joy comes from
living beyond labels. Without constantly judging we are free to experience life directly. A cloudy
day is simply a cloudy day, not a “bad” day. A challenge is simply a challenge, not “the worst
thing ever.” By loosening the grip of labels, we reduce fear, anxiety, and disappointment. We begin
to meet life with curiosity rather than judgment. So the next time something happens - big or
small - pause before naming it. Instead of saying, “This is bad” or “This is perfect,” simply notice
it. Allow it to be what it is, without boxing it in. True joy comes not from chasing an identity,
but from living freely, moment to moment, without being confined by labels.
5. Stop Measuring Yourself Against Others
Zhuangzi once wondered that “Everyone knows the usefulness of the useful,
but no one knows the usefulness of the useless.”
Much of our restlessness comes from comparison. We measure ourselves against the people around
us - how much they earn, how quickly they succeed, how admired or respected
they are. Without noticing, we step onto an invisible scale where our worth rises or falls
depending on where we stand against others. Zhuangzi invites us to step off that scale
altogether. He reminds us that each being has its own nature, its own way of unfolding. To compare
constantly is to miss the ease of living our own path.He tells the story of two trees. One was
tall and straight, admired by carpenters for its perfect timber. The other was crooked and gnarled,
so twisted that no one thought it useful. At first glance, it seemed like the crooked tree
had little value. But because no one wanted to cut it down, it lived freely, spreading
its branches, offering shade, and standing for centuries. The straight tree, though praised,
was quickly cut and turned into beams and planks. The point is simple: usefulness and worth depend
on the measure we choose. When we compare, we trap ourselves inside narrow definitions - useful
or useless, successful or failed, worthy or unworthy. But life is not meant to be
lived on a measuring stick. The crooked tree was not less alive than the straight
one - it simply had a different way of being. In our own lives, comparison creates suffering
because it ties our joy to someone else’s path. You may feel small because a friend advanced
faster in their career, or because someone else seems more talented, more confident,
or more admired. But none of these diminish your life. You have your own rhythm, your own shape,
your own place in the larger whole. When we stop measuring, we rediscover
joy. We begin to see ourselves as part of the natural flow, not as contestants in a race. A
crooked branch, a unique talent, a slower pace - these are not flaws but expressions of who we are.
6. Embrace Transformation
Zhuangzi once wrote that “Birth is not a beginning; death is not an end.
Existence is a transformation; time is a renewal.” One of his stories, called “The Seasons of Life,”
tells of a villager he knew who had passed away. The villager had lived quietly and fully. Zhuangzi
reflected on his passing by thinking of the changing seasons. Just as spring turns to summer,
summer to autumn, and autumn to winter, all living things move through the stages of life. Birth,
growth, aging, and death are all part of the same natural cycle. Each stage has its own
place and purpose, and none should be resisted. In this story, Zhuangzi shows that when someone
dies, it is not a catastrophe. It is a return to the larger flow of life. Just as we do not mourn
the arrival of autumn after summer, death is not a rupture in the universe. Clinging
too tightly to life or fearing death disrupts the harmony of existence. Accepting this flow
allows the mind to remain calm and free. This perspective is not just for death
but for all changes we face. Losing a job, moving to a new place, friendships shifting,
or plans falling apart may feel like setbacks at first. But, like the seasons,
every ending creates space for something new - a fresh opportunity, a new experience, or personal
growth we could not have imagined before. Life is always moving, always transforming, and every
change is part of the same natural cycle. So in this way, death becomes a mirror an
allegory for all change. Holding too tightly to what is passing—whether life, circumstances,
or expectations—only brings suffering. Peace comes from flowing with life, from seeing each
transformation as part of the larger pattern of existence. A canceled plan might feel frustrating,
but it can give you time to rest, reflect, or return to something you enjoy. A friendship
that drifts apart may open space to meet new people who bring out different sides of you.
The most difficult experiences - like loss, change or endings - aren’t interruptions to life but
expressions of it. So when life changes, instead of asking, “Why did this happen to me?” ask,
“What new adventure is opening here?” By seeing change not as a threat but as the natural rhythm
of existence, we can live more joyfully, riding the flow of life rather than resisting it.
7. Return to Simplicity
In our final quote from Zhuangzi for this video, he says “To forget the lure of profit,
to forget the fear of loss, to be untroubled by fame and disregard - this
is the simplicity of being. In this simplicity, joy flows of itself.”
Our true nature is the part of us that exists before all the layers of social pressure,
comparison, and ambition. It is the simple awareness of being alive - the ability to breathe,
to see, to feel, to move. When we live closer to this natural state, we don’t measure ourselves
by what we own or how others see us. We find contentment in just being, without
the constant need to prove or add more. When life is simple, joy arises naturally, without effort.
Think of how a child can play for hours with a stick or a stone, completely absorbed and
happy. The joy is not in the object but in the freedom of being fully present. As adults,
we often lose this. We convince ourselves that happiness requires more money, more status,
or more experiences. But the more we pile onto life, the heavier it feels.
Zhuangzi teaches that returning to simplicity is not about depriving ourselves but about
clearing away the clutter that distracts us from what already matters. For example,
imagine someone who constantly upgrades their phone, their clothes, or their lifestyle,
yet still feels dissatisfied. Their attention is always on what’s missing. In contrast, another
person might keep things simple and focus on what they already have: meaningful relationships, time
in nature, or simple daily routines. Their joy comes not from accumulation but from appreciation.
This also applies to our inner lives. When we complicate our thoughts - constantly
comparing ourselves, chasing approval, or overthinking - we create noise that
blocks peace. Simplicity means stepping back, breathing, and asking, “What is essential here?”
The essentials are usually very few. It may be health - the ability to live and move without
pain. It may be a connection - the presence of people who care about us and whom we care for.
It may be the purpose - having something meaningful to give our time and energy to.
And it may be presence - the capacity to be here, in this moment, without being dragged
into the past or worried about the future. When we return to these essentials, happiness begins
to surface on its own because it is no longer buried under layers of unnecessary demands.
Joy doesn’t need to be manufactured. When we let go of excess - whether possessions,
ambitions, or unnecessary worries, we uncover the joy that was always within us.
If you enjoyed this video, please make sure to check out our full philosophies
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