The stranded fish

Zhuangzi was poor and borrowed grain from the Marquis of Jianhe.

The marquis said: certainly. I'm about to collect the taxes from my fief. When that comes in, I'll lend you three hundred pieces of gold.

Zhuangzi's face changed. He said: on my way here yesterday, I heard a voice calling from the road. I looked, and there was a carp in the dried-up wheel rut.

It said: I'm from the eastern sea. Do you have a bucket of water to keep me alive?

I said: certainly. I'm going south to see the kings of Wu and Yue. I'll divert the West River to come and meet you.

The carp said: I've left the water. I have nowhere to go. Give me a bucket now and I'll live. Wait for the West River, and you can look for me in the dried fish market.

Everybody understands this story for strangers and nobody applies it to themselves.

Somebody tells you they're not okay. You offer perspective. You offer what they should do in March. They needed someone to sit in the car with them for twenty minutes tonight.

The small immediate thing is almost always worth more than the perfect distant thing. That's not weakness. It's the actual mechanics of how people survive.

MOJOWAY is a place to get the bucket, not the river. Ten minutes now, one honest conversation, and something small enough to hold this week.