The frog in the well and the insect in summer

A frog in a well told a turtle from the eastern sea about his excellent life. He could jump on the railing, rest in a crack in the brick, splash in the shallow water. Nothing in the world compared.

Would the turtle like to come in and see?

The turtle tried to put one foot in. It didn't fit. Then he told the frog about the sea. A thousand miles across isn't enough to describe it. A thousand fathoms deep isn't enough to describe it. The frog was stunned, and then small.

Zhuangzi makes a second point in the same chapter that gets quoted less. A summer insect can't be told about ice, because it won't live to see any. Not because it's stupid. Because of its season.

Both halves matter. One, your view has edges and you didn't build them on purpose. Two, other people's views have edges of a different shape, and arguing will not widen a season.

All of this is kinder when you apply it in both directions. Be suspicious of your certainty. Be slow to write off someone whose season you've never lived inside.

MOJOWAY asks the questions a good coach asks: what have you actually seen, and what have you been assuming everyone sees? Awareness widens slowly, and only on purpose.