Philosophy Is Life: A Reflection Inspired by Zhuangzi

When most people hear the word philosophy, they picture something distant, abstract—maybe even intimidating. It feels like something only academics talk about, with big ideas about existence, morality, or the universe.

But philosophy doesn’t have to live in a textbook. At its heart, it’s a way of thinking. It’s a mental practice—a method for making sense of life. It helps you ask better questions, break out of rigid thought patterns, and look at the world with fresh eyes. In that way, philosophy is surprisingly creative.

And because it lives in your mind, it’s completely yours. No matter what’s happening in the world around you—whether things are changing or staying the same—you always have the power to choose how you think, how you respond, and how you live.

The way you see a situation, the choices you make, the way you speak to someone—these are all part of your own personal philosophy. Whether or not you’ve written it down in a book, you have one. So while philosophy might sound like something far away from everyday life, it’s actually right here, woven into every decision you make.

Philosophy isn’t separate from life. Philosophy is life.

Zhuangzi encourages us to go with the natural rhythm of things.

Part 1: Zhuangzi and the Art of Letting Go

Let’s bring this closer to home by talking about Zhuangzi, one of the great Daoist thinkers from ancient China. If you’ve ever studied Chinese philosophy, you’ve probably heard of him.

When I was in university, I had to take a few required philosophy courses. That’s when I first encountered Zhuangzi—and his ideas stuck with me. Over time, I’ve grown to really appreciate Daoist thought, not just as something interesting, but as something genuinely useful. Maybe it’s also a reflection of my own personality, but Zhuangzi’s philosophy of freedom—what he calls xiaoyao (逍遙), or carefree wandering—really resonated with me.

Zhuangzi is quite different from thinkers in other schools, like Confucianism or Mohism. He emphasizes flow, flexibility, and ease. He encourages us to go with the natural rhythm of things, to not force or cling too tightly.

To him, real freedom isn’t about having power, money, or status. It’s not something others can give you. It comes from within. It’s the freedom of the mind.

And that’s why Zhuangzi still feels so relevant today. No matter who you are, where you live, or what generation you belong to, the idea of inner freedom is powerful. In a world full of noise and pressure, having that internal space—that calm, clear perspective—can make all the difference. Once your mind is free, a lot of the problems and drama around you suddenly don’t seem so heavy.

Part 2: Relativity Over Absolutes

Another core idea in Zhuangzi’s thought is relativism. He believed there’s no such thing as absolute right or wrong, good or bad. What matters is your perspective.

In one of his key concepts, Qiwu (齊物), Zhuangzi talks about seeing all things as equal. No hierarchy. No fixed judgments. Truth is always relative. We shouldn’t be too attached to rigid standards.

This is a powerful reminder—especially in a time where people are often quick to label, argue, or divide. Zhuangzi challenges us to see beyond that. He asks us to soften our grip on certainty and leave space for ambiguity and change.

Part 3: The Limits of Language

Zhuangzi also had deep doubts about language. He believed that words could never fully express the truth of the Dao (the Way). Language can help us communicate, but it can also trap us. It defines and divides, when the real nature of things is fluid and interconnected.

That’s why some say art might be a better medium than language for exploring these ideas. Even though we’re still using words now, maybe when we look at artwork—like the pieces by Lee Chi-tat (利志達)—we’ll feel something that words alone can’t quite capture. Sometimes, it’s the unspoken that speaks the loudest.

Zhuangzi’s Butterfly Dream

One of Zhuangzi’s most famous stories appears in Qiwu Lun, and it’s one you might already know: the butterfly dream.

"Once, Zhuangzi dreamed he was a butterfly, fluttering around, carefree and content. He didn’t know he was Zhuangzi. Then he woke up—and there he was, unmistakably Zhuangzi. But now he wondered: was he Zhuangzi who had dreamed of being a butterfly? Or was he a butterfly now dreaming he was Zhuangzi?"

This dream raises deep questions about reality and identity. Where do we draw the line between dreaming and waking? Between self and other? Between subject and object?

Zhuangzi blurs those boundaries. For him, identities shift. Nothing is fixed. Everything is in motion. It’s all part of the great flow of the Dao.

That moment of confusion—“Am I Zhuangzi dreaming of being a butterfly, or the other way around?”—only happens because we assume a firm boundary between self and not-self. Zhuangzi is pointing to the idea that these boundaries might not be real at all.

Think about it: Are you the same person you were yesterday? Or twenty years ago?

Final Thoughts

Zhuangzi doesn’t offer a system of rules or clear answers. What he gives us is something more valuable: the freedom to let go. He invites us to live with more ease, more openness, more trust in the natural rhythm of things.

In a world that’s constantly pushing us to be more productive, more certain, more in control, Zhuangzi offers the opposite. He shows us how to loosen our grip, embrace change, and find peace in not knowing.

Philosophy isn’t something we need to “study” in a formal way. It’s already happening, in every thought, choice, and conversation. So don’t be afraid of the word. You’re already living your own philosophy.

And maybe that’s the most powerful philosophy of all.

Thanks for coming to the Curator's Tour~

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