Chinese Metaphysics Blog

    The source of all suffering is attachment. And at the root of all attachment is the attachment to a self—the clinging to the idea of an independent, intrinsic "I." Because of this attachment to self, we create a duality between self and others, which in turn gives rise to further suffering. In daily life, we can see that those who are especially self-centered tend to have many worries and afflictions, whereas those who are selfless are often more at ease and joyful.

    What is this "I"? In fact, it is just a feeling. Take a book, for example—there is no intrinsic "mine" or "not mine" about it. But once we buy the book, we attach a label of "mine" to it. Once that feeling is established, the damage or loss of the book affects us. Before that, no matter what happened to the book, it would not hurt us. Similarly, when we are about to buy a house, issues with it don't matter much because it hasn't yet become "ours." But after we buy it, any change in the house tugs at our hearts. That distress arises precisely from the added sense of "mine."

    Why do we get bothered by such trivial matters rather than by more significant things? Every day, disasters happen around the world—many people suffer setbacks or pass away. Yet we merely sigh in passing and rarely feel personally affected, let alone lose sleep over it. That’s because we haven’t yet attached the label of "I" or "mine" to those events. Once the self gets involved, the feeling changes instantly. If the person suffering the setback is "me," or the one who died is "my" loved one, then an ordinary human tragedy suddenly becomes the most important thing in the world. Indeed, in our world, is there any event more serious than harm to "me"? When an unrelated person dies, we think, "Everyone dies—nothing unusual." But when it’s a loved one or our own death approaching, we can no longer face it calmly. Instead, we complain about the injustice of fate or lament our own misfortune.

    Thus, all afflictions revolve around the "self." We mistake fleeting, conditioned thoughts and feelings for "me," and take things that are not "me" as "me." If not for this misperception, how could those coming-and-going thoughts ever take root in our minds and harm us? Without the interference of "self," the changing, impermanent nature of the world would be an objective law we could accept, just as we accept the turning of seasons and the withering and blossoming of plants.

A god felt sorry for some maggots living in a pile of poop. He wanted to help them become humans.

"I can send you back to earth as people," the god said. "You will eat good food and live a nice life. Do you want that?"

The maggots got very excited. They asked, "If we become people, does all this poop become ours?"

The god said, "No. People do not eat poop."

The maggots got quiet. Then one of them said, "Then we don't want it. If we can't eat poop, life is no fun."

And they all went back into the poop.

The god shook his head and left.

Have you ever lain awake late at night and asked yourself:

Is it true that no matter how hard I try, some things just won’t change?

I used to believe otherwise.

In my twenties, I thought the world was fair. If I ran fast enough, I could catch anything. Dreams were meant to come true, weren’t they? If someone else could do it, why couldn’t I?

Back then, I despised the word “fate.” I thought it was an excuse for the weak, a crutch for those who couldn’t face failure.

But now I’m over forty.

And looking back… I was wrong.

All roads lead to Rome, but some people are born there

I heard that saying when I was young, but I didn’t truly understand it. Deep down, I didn’t want to.

I’ve seen people far smarter than me struggle for twenty years and still end up stuck. I’ve also seen average folks catch the right wave and completely transform their lives in just a few years.

Was it about talent? About effort?

Not really.

More often than not, we are simply pushed in one direction by life, and then another. You think you’re choosing your path, but behind every turn, there’s an invisible hand gently guiding you.

The ancient Chinese said: “At forty, one understands the will of heaven.” When I was young, I thought that was old-fashioned nonsense. Now I see it for what it is — profound wisdom.

Because by forty, you’ve lived enough. You finally admit: no matter how hard you try, there are ceilings you cannot break through. It’s not that you’re not talented. It’s that the game was never entirely fair to begin with.

My biggest regret

That’s why I eventually turned to the study of fate — or more precisely, the study of life’s natural directions.

It’s actually quite ironic: what I dismissed most in my youth has become my life’s work.

But there’s one regret that never fades:

If only someone had told me, when I was young, which direction to go — which major to choose, which career to pursue — how different would my life have been?

I’m not asking for a detailed spoiler. Just a gentle nudge. Enough to avoid wasting years in confusion.

Instead, I stumbled through my twenties, kept trying the wrong paths in my thirties, and spent too many late nights asking, “Did I take all the wrong turns?”

But there was no one.

Time doesn’t rewind. If I went back, I’d still be that lost young man with no guidance, still bumping into walls, still making mistakes, before slowly — painfully — finding my way.

So I decided to help others do what I couldn’t

Because I’ve walked that road. I’ve paid the price. And I know, more than most:

If someone had just told you a few basic truths earlier, your life could have been completely different.

This isn’t about superstition. It’s not about sitting back and waiting for luck to hit you.

It’s about seeing clearly: What are your natural strengths? What kind of path fits you? Where are your pitfalls? Where are your opportunities?

You don’t need to compete on every single track. You just need to find your track. Then run as far as your effort can take you.

That alone can save you ten years — maybe more.

Ten years. That’s precious.

What “understanding fate” really means

Looking back, I realize now that understanding fate doesn’t mean accepting cruelty.

It means accepting this: Life is short. You cannot have everything. But if you know who you are and where you belong, you can go far — farther than you think — on the path that truly fits you.

When we’re young, we think knowing fate makes people passive. But that’s not true.

Knowing fate isn’t surrender. It’s choosing your battlefield wisely, and then fighting well.

I no longer regret that no one guided me when I was young. That past doesn’t matter anymore.

What matters is that today — I can be that someone for others.

If you’re feeling lost, questioning whether you’ve chosen the wrong road, wondering why you work so hard but see so little in return —

Maybe it’s not that you’re not working hard enough.
Maybe you just haven’t found the right direction yet.

And I’d be happy to help you look.

I hope you don’t have to wait until you’re forty, like I did, to finally understand.