The Invisible Harm
Zhou Chu, courtesy name Ziyin, was a man of Yangxian, Yixing. His father, Zhou Fang, had been the Administrator of Poyang in Wu. Zhou Chu lost his father while young and, before he reached adulthood, possessed strength far beyond ordinary men. He loved galloping about in hunting, was careless of small virtues, and indulged his desires, so that the district was burdened by him. Knowing that he was hated by the people, he was deeply moved and resolved to reform himself. He said to the elders: 'Now the times are peaceful and the harvest abundant; why is there no joy?' The elders sighed and said: 'The three harms are not yet removed; what joy can there be?' Zhou Chu asked: 'What do you mean?' They answered: 'The white-browed fierce beast of the Southern Mountain, the river dragon under the Long Bridge, and you—these are the three.' Zhou Chu said: 'If these are the afflictions, I can remove them.' The elders said: 'If you remove them, it will be a great blessing for the whole commandery, not merely the removal of a harm.' Thereupon Zhou Chu went into the mountains and shot the fierce beast, then plunged into the water to grapple with the dragon. The dragon now sank, now floated, moving on for dozens of li, while Zhou Chu stayed with it. After three days and three nights, the people thought him dead and all rejoiced together. When Zhou Chu had in fact killed the dragon and returned, he heard the villagers congratulating one another; only then did he realize how greatly the people were afflicted by him. He went to Wu to seek out the two Lu brothers. Lu Ji was not at home; he met Lu Yun and told him everything, saying: 'I wish to cultivate myself, but my years have already slipped away; I fear it will be too late.' Lu Yun said: 'The ancients valued hearing the Way in the morning and reforming by evening. Your future is still open; rather, worry that your resolve is not established—why grieve that your name will not become known?' Thereupon Zhou Chu set his resolve and studied diligently, endowed with literary talent, aspiring to righteousness and courage, and in speech always loyal, trustworthy, and self-restrained.
I heard the story of Zhou Chu long ago, but perhaps I never thought that I myself might be a person like Zhou Chu. To the relatives and friends around me, I may well be a scourge rather than an agreeable companion. It truly is not easy for a person to see the harm he does to those around him.
Gibran once said: 'I will not associate with the sort of person who always believes himself to be right.' If a person is always right—even if he truly is always right—the people around him are bound to feel wretched. Because being beside someone who is always correct is oppressive for many people; they cannot feel their own value in existence.
Zhou Chu must always have felt he was in the right, and he must also have felt proud of ridding the villagers of the harm. But what Zhou Chu never expected was that the villagers regarded him as an even worse scourge than the fierce tiger of the mountains and the river dragon below the waters. After Zhou Chu rid the villagers of the harm, they, mistaking him for dead, celebrated with hats in hand. Only when Zhou Chu learned of this did he suddenly reflect and discover that he was not at all as welcome as he had imagined. From then on he sought out Lu Ji and Lu Yun, learned the art of self-cultivation and self-discipline from these two renowned masters, and finally transformed himself into a self-restrained and courteous person.
To my shame, I am someone who has long felt himself 'correct' most of the time—the very sort of person Gibran was unwilling to deal with. This feeling of being self-righteous has always filled me with confidence. I have always felt I had reason to be so confident: disciplined in life, hardworking in study, serious in doing things, not greedy for comfort, not afraid of hardship, and outstanding from childhood.
But perhaps people of my kind are precisely those who do not know how to hold back and let the others around them show their own strengths. To be honest, this sort of person who constantly shines alone and makes others pale by comparison is very annoying. Because such a person takes all the limelight; others, in front of him, have to belittle themselves.
In a family or a group, there is always a 'Zhou Chu' type of person—mighty in battle, radiating light, who simply does not know how to hold back, liking only to be the sun and not the stars or moon. The others are displeased with him, yet he himself remains wholly unaware, feeling only that he has merit and no fault. He does not notice at all the harm he causes. When others complain about him, he instead feels they are ungrateful.
A few years ago, if others had pointed out that I was such a person, I might well have been unconvinced and glared at them. Now, without others telling me, I already know that I am such a person.
Who, being in the right, can spare others, and who, having merit, can willingly take a low place—these are the truly generous elders; only such generous elders make others feel as though bathed in a gentle spring breeze. In getting along with others, it does not matter who is more capable than whom; what matters more is that they can get along happily.
My revered teacher taught me as long as twenty years ago to hide my light and not show my edge; a few years ago he was still instructing me not to always shine like the sun, but to learn to restrain myself like the moon. Only at forty did I gradually, as he wished, recognize this fatal shortcoming of mine and resolve to correct it thoroughly. It shows just how truly hard educating a person is!