There are days when I remember how the things that once happened to me, are now things that, in hindsight, happened for me.
It takes a considerable amount of patience and humility to see this, accept it, and eventually believe it wholeheartedly.
I think of sick days, daily Ls, missed opportunities, close-but-no-cigars, rookie mistakes, tough breaks. I think of Game 6 of the 2021 NBA Finals when Devin Booker took one last look at the celebrating Milwaukee Bucks before exiting the court. Confetti falling from the rafters, his team has just missed their shot after going up 2 games to 0. “Damn,” he says under his breath.
We all have moments like this, maybe not televised worldwide, but relatively big moments nonetheless. We’re usually left wondering how much of a dent this would make in our lives. How much do our failures or successes make up the overall perceived goodness or tragedy of our lives?
There’s this Chinese idiom that comes to mind, and I can’t count the number of times I say it to myself on a daily basis: “塞翁失马” (Sài Wēng Shī Mǎ).
I would whisper to myself when I notice things beginning to fall apart, “塞翁失马, 塞翁失马.” And then all would be well again, at least in my head. I would write it over and over again on my books and notebooks so it sticks (For the Ateneans reading this, this is my “AMDG”).
塞翁失马 is best explained through a story.
Literal meaning:
塞 – short for 边塞, which means fortress or border
翁 – old man
失 – lose
马 – horse
= The old man by the border loses his horse
Figurative meaning (Story time):
There was once an old man in ancient China who lived by the country’s border—which, at the time, could have been the Great Wall. Either way, people called him 塞翁 (Sài Wēng; literally, “old man by the border”). One day 塞翁 wakes up to find that his horse has gone missing.
This was a huge deal at the time. Horses are expensive now but back then, they were like luxury cars. So 塞翁’s neighbors came over to comfort him, “we’re really sorry for your misfortune!” 塞翁 looked at them stoically, and replied, “how can you be so sure that this is a bad thing?”
The next day, the lost horse returns to 塞翁’s house, and brought another horse with it, a thorough-bred stallion. As expected, 塞翁’s nosy neighbors arrive and celebrate with him, “congratulations on your new horse!” His reply was just as dry as the first time, “how do you know that this is a good thing?”
The next day, 塞翁’s son takes the new horse out for a ride. This horse was much faster than he’s used to. He falls off and injures his leg. The neighbors arrive once again to comfort 塞翁, but his response is the same, “how can we be sure that this is a bad thing?”
A few days later, war breaks lose by the border. All able-bodied young men join the army in battle, most of whom don’t make it back. 塞翁’s injured son couldn’t join the war and was thus spared.
This is 塞翁失马. It’s become a sort of chant for me.
Perspective, patience, the long game. Not all good is all good. Not all bad is all horrible.
I recently rewatched the Ted Lasso episode (it really is the only show I would consider rewatching) with this line I really like:
Be curious, not judgmental.
Ted was referring to people here, but I think this works with the things that happen to us as well.
I used to find myself so quick to judge an event as a good or bad thing, but 塞翁失马, maybe it’s neither.
What does curiosity look like as an alternative?
Why did this happen? What’s the appropriate response? Why am I reacting to it this way? How do I move forward? How do I get better from this? Why is this a good thing? Why is this not entirely good? What does my reaction tell me about myself? Why does this matter? Why does it not?
Time and time again, the right questions we ask ourselves take us to a place so far away from our initial judgment.
The world is so complicated that if we dig deep enough, we reach a tipping point and it all becomes very simple. We lose our horses on a daily basis. We gain new ones every other day.
So what? Be curious, not judgmental.