The well-known Chinese saying, “When water is too clear, there are no fish; when a person scrutinizes too closely, he will have no companions,” comes from the Da Dai Li Ji (Records of Rites by the Elder Dai), in the chapter “Zi Zhang Asks About Entering Public Office.”
The saying teaches that excessive scrutiny and harshness can drive people away. It reminds us to practice tolerance, consider others’ circumstances, and not focus only on our own interests and personal gains and losses.
When water is too clear, there are no fish
Zi Zhang once asked Confucius about the principles of serving in government. His answer pointed beyond government to a broader principle of human conduct.
Fish are reluctant to remain in water that is perfectly clear because they are left completely exposed and can easily be caught. The image is therefore more than an observation about the natural world; it also serves as a warning about how we treat others.
In everyday life, someone who is excessively shrewd and critical can make others feel distant or uneasy, even to the point that they become reluctant to associate with him. Just as fish avoid water in which they are completely exposed, people tend to keep their distance from someone who examines every fault and calculates every gain and loss.
Confucius’s words remind us not to be overly calculating or harsh, but to understand the traditional principle of being “lenient with others and strict with oneself.” A person who thinks only of his own interests, constantly weighs gains and losses, and gives little thought to others may eventually find that he has lost his true friends and supporters.
The wisdom of knowing when to let things go
Traditional Chinese culture also speaks of a kind of wisdom expressed in the phrase nan de hu tu — the rare wisdom of seeming muddleheaded. Its meaning is closely related to the lesson of clear water and excessive scrutiny.
It does not mean genuinely being confused or unaware. Rather, it describes using wisdom to handle the troubles and conflicts of human life: appearing not to notice every small offense or insist on every point, while remaining inwardly clear-minded about what is happening.
This reflects the traditional idea of da zhi ruo yu — “great wisdom may appear foolish.” A truly wise person does not need to contend over every minor matter. By approaching others with tolerance and an easy heart, one can resolve conflicts and avoid unnecessary troubles and disputes.
A traditional story illustrates this principle.
Legend has it that in ancient times, an elderly Zen master was walking outside his monastery one evening when he noticed a chair placed beside the wall. He immediately understood that one of the monks had broken the monastery rules by using the chair to climb over the wall and sneak out.
The old master said nothing. He quietly moved the chair away, went to the wall, and crouched down in its place.
Before long, a young monk climbed back over the wall. In the darkness, he stepped onto the master’s back, believing it to be the chair, and jumped down into the courtyard.
Only after his feet touched the ground did the young monk realize that what he had stepped on was not a chair, but his own master. He was overwhelmed with fear and embarrassment and could not speak.
Yet the master did not rebuke him. Instead, he calmly said: “It is late, and the night is cold. Go put on another layer of clothing.”
We can imagine how the young monk must have felt upon hearing these words. He was not punished or humiliated. Instead, the master taught him through silent tolerance and compassion.
In dealing with people and handling affairs, wisdom does not lie in demanding absolute clarity or perfection in every matter. Rather, it lies in knowing when to be discerning, when to be tolerant, and how to find the proper balance.
That is where true wisdom lies.
Translated by Elaine
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