The sixty-four hexagrams of the Great Dao of the World, the ending is never perfect, but incomplete.
The human world is perfect every year, and the heaven is blank every year.
I am a layman in this world, with no view, no Tao, no teacher, no door. I only carry a green umbrella and an old flute, walking between the world of mortals and the clouds.
When people practice Taoism, they seek longevity, ascension, and positive results.
I don't.
I cultivate "Zhuangzi", cultivate empty boats, cultivate sitting and forgetfulness, cultivate that all things are not accomplished, and all things can be overcome.
That autumn rain was torrential, the Liao River surged, and the turbid waves turned like a chess game in troubled times.
Someone saw a huge thing falling from the clouds, with its long body winding, its scales reflecting the rain, and its roar like thunder.
The villagers ran around and knelt down to worship, saying that the real dragon had come to the world.
I stood deep in the reed pond with a green umbrella, the rainwater wet the edge of the umbrella, and the flute across my wrist, watching the scene quietly.
Not a dragon.
Not a monster either.
It is a sign that heaven and earth are not helping.
When everything reaches its extreme, it must fall, must fall, must be destroyed, and must come back again.
The dragon can move the clouds and spread rain, and can dominate the nine heavens, but it cannot escape the saying "it will eventually be exhausted".
It flew too high, its momentum was too full, and the hexagram was completed, so the sky fell over it, the water covered it, and it fell after all its strength was exhausted.
I looked at the giant thing struggling in the mud, its tail soaked in the water, and its voice was hoarse from exhaustion.
Just like the sentence in Jiweiji hexagram——
The little fox is busy and its tail is wet, which is of no benefit.
