“The waterfall measured thirty cubits high, and the rapids extended over forty stadia. Neither giant tortoises nor the crocodiles nor the fish nor the mud turtles could swim there.” Suddenly, Confucius spots a man in the water. Thinking that that swimmer must be despondent and suicidal, he dispatches a disciple to try to pull him out. But a hundred paces downstream, the man climbs out of the water, his hair all disheveled, and calmly strolls along the bank, singing as he goes. Unsurprisingly, Confucius asks him the usual question, about his dao. The man replies that he has none. “I dive with the swirls and surface with the eddies. I merely follow the dao of the water and have none of my own.” - From Vital Nourishment by François Jullien
In 1999, in Costa Rica, for reasons lost to history, but probably just because I’m a really good guy or something, I was playing volleyball with orphans. Those orphans, due to their precarious situation, needed structure. Their coach was very clear about this. Structure, boundaries, rules, consistency, discipline. Those are all ingredients in love.
I wanted the orphans to know I loved them, so I agreed to follow by the same rules they had to follow. I don’t remember most of the rules, but I do remember one rule very well, because it was a rule I kept breaking: Don’t throw the ball over the net after a point. Do this and you cost your team a point.
I did this repeatedly and cost my team several points.
I felt terrible. I was there to make the lives of the poor orphans of Costa Rica better, but I was making them demonstrably, mathematically, worse. I waited for the next best chance to make things right, and when it came, I jumped at it.