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Speaker 1: Hello, and welcome back to Sleepy Stories. I'm your host, Lucy,

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and my friends and I will be reading you a

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sleepy bedtime story every week to relax you and to

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help you to drift off into a RESTful sleep. From

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time to time, we will also read you a relaxing,

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peaceful meditation that will take you somewhere beautiful and calming.

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Once we have read the stories, we will then read

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them a second time, but this time they will be

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ready even slower. This will help you to relax even more.

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Before we begin, I would like you to close your

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eyes and breathe in and out nice and deeply. Take

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a few seconds to inhale, and then hold your breath

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for a few seconds more, and then release and breathe out.

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Do this a few times if you need to. While

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you listen to the music and you listen to my voice,

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give yourself time to let your body relax and your

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mind settle. It's important that we allow time for us

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to feel safe, cozy, and completely at ease. And now

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it's time for this week's story.

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Speaker 2: The Butterfly dream in the quiet state of Song in

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an age when the world was still young enough to

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ask questions without expecting answers. There lived a man named

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juang Joe. He was not a king, nor a minister,

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nor a man of wealth. His robes were plain, his

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dwelling modest, and his meals simple. Yet those who came

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to speak with him often left unsettled, not because he

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spoke in riddles, but because he seemed to live as

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if the riddles were already solved. He wondered when he wished,

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slept when he wished, and spoke only when the words

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felt necessary. Some said he was wise, others said he

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was useless. Jung Jo himself seemed uninterested in deciding which

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was true. One evening, as the sun dissolved into amber

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and then into shadow, shuang Jo lay down to rest.

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The world softened, the sounds of insects rose and fell

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like breath. The distinction between the waking and the sleeping

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began to loosen its hold. And then he dreamed. In

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his dream he was no longer duang Jo. He was

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a butterfly, not a man imagining a butterfly, nor a

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man observing one, but a butterfly entirely, without memory of

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anything else. His body was light, his wings delicate, shimmering

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with colors that needed no name. He floated in the air,

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carried not by effort but by the gentlest currents of wind.

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He did not think I am a butterfly. He simply was.

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He drifted over fields of tall grass that bent like

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waves beneath him. He passed through beams of sunlight that

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felt warm but not heavy. Flowers opened to him without hesitation,

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and he tasted their sweetness without desire or plan. There

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was no past, There was there's no future. There was

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only the movement. Sometimes he rose high, where the air

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thinned and the world stretched out below like a painted scroll.

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Sometimes he dipped low, brushing the tops of leaves, feeling

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the faint resistance of their surfaces. There was no purpose

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to any of it, and yet nothing felt incomplete. He

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was not concerned with survival. He did not question his existence.

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He did not wonder whether he was doing the right

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thing or whether his life had meaning. He was simply moving,

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and in that movement everything was already fulfilled. Time in

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that place had no edge. Moments did not follow one another.

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They unfolded all at once, like petals, opening without sequence.

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Speaker 3: And then.

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Speaker 2: Something shifted, not suddenly, not violently, but with the quiet

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inevitability of a tide turning. The light changed, the air

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grew still, The butterfly slowed, and then.

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Speaker 3: He awoke.

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Speaker 2: Chuang Cho opened his eyes. The ceiling above him was familiar.

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The weight of his body returned, pressing gently against the

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map beneath him. The sounds of the night resumed their

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ordinary rhythm. He could feel his breath, his hands, the

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faint stiffness in his limbs. He sat up slowly. For

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a moment, he did not move. He looked at his hands,

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human hands, lined and imperfect. He flexed his fingers as

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if to test their reality. He touched his face, his arms,

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the fabric of his robe. Everything was as it had been,

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and yet something was not the same. He tried to

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recall the dream, not as a story, but as an experience.

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He remembered the lightness, He remembered the absence of thought.

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He remembered the feeling of being entirely at ease, without

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needing to understand why. And most of all, he remembered

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that while he was the butterfly, he had not known

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he was Duung Joe. There had been no sense of transition,

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no awareness of difference. He had not thought I was

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once a man. He had not thought, I will return

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to being one. He had simply been the butterfly. Juang

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Jo rose and stepped outside. The night was still, the

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sky deep and endless. A faint breeze moved through the trees,

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carrying the scent of earth and leaves. He stood there

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for a long time. A student who had come to

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visit and had been sleeping nearby, noticed his teacher standing

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in the darkness and approached him. Master. The student said, quietly,

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why do you not rest? Juang Jo did not answer immediately. Instead,

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he turned his gaze toward the horizon, where the first

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hint of dawn was beginning to emerge. I had a dream,

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he said at last. The student waited. In my dream,

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I was a butterfly, dung Jo continued, I flew wherever

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I wished. I did not know I was dung Jo.

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I was only a butterfly. The student nodded, unsure what

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to make of this. And now juang Jo said, I

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am duang Jo, who has awakened from dreaming. He was

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a butterfly. He paused, Then he asked, but I.

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Speaker 3: Do not know. Was I jung Jo dreaming I.

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Speaker 2: Was a butterfly? Or am I now a butterfly dreaming.

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I am juang Jo. The student frowned. He searched for

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an answer, but none came easily. Master he said, surely

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you are juang Jo. You have always been juang Jo.

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The butterfly was only a dream, juang Joe smiled faintly.

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Only a dream, he repeated. He bent down and picked

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up a small leaf, turning it gently between his fingers.

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When I was the butterfly, he said, I did not

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feel that I was dreaming. I did not feel that

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I was anything other than what I was. He let

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the leaf fall. Tell me what makes this state more

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real than that one? The student hesitated. This is the

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waking world, he said. It is stable, it continued, It

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is shared by others. Juang Jho looked at him, and

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how do you know that what you call waking is

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not simply another kind of dream. The student opened his

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mouth to respond, then closed it again. Juang Jho began

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to walk slowly along the path. Consider this, he said.

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In the dream, there was no juang Zhou. There was

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only the butterfly. In this moment, there is no butterfly,

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only juang Zhou. He glanced at the student. Yet both

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experiences felt complete in themselves. They walked in silence for

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a while. The sky grew lighter, birds began to stir.

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Master the students said, at last, are you saying that

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nothing is real? Jung Jo shook his head. No, he said,

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I am saying that perhaps everything is real, but not

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in the way we think. He stopped walking and turned

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to face the student. We are always trying to fix

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things in place, he said, to say this is true,

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that is false, this is real, that is illusion, This

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is me, that is not me. He gestured toward the trees,

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the sky, the faint movement of the wind. But the

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world does not stay still long enough for such certainty.

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The student listened carefully. When you were a child, juang

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Jo continued, you were different from who you are now.

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Your thoughts, your desires, your understanding all have changed. The

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student nodded, Yet you say I am the same person.

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He tilted his head slightly. Which is true? The student struggled.

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I suppose both are true, he said. Dung Joe smiled.

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Speaker 4: Just so.

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Speaker 2: He resumed walking. The butterfly was not concerned with being

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Duong Joe, he said, and Dung Joe now is concerned

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with whether he is the butterfly, he chuckled softly. Which

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one do you think is closer to freedom? The student

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did not answer. They reached a small clearing where the

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sunlight now spilled fully across the ground. Juang Joe sat

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down on a stone and closed his eyes briefly, as

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if returning to the memory of the dream. When we

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cling too tightly to what we think we are, he said,

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we create boundaries that may not truly exist. He opened

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his eyes. But when we allow things to change, to transform,

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to become something else entirely, we begin to see that

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the line between this and that is not as solid

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as we believed. The student sat beside him. So what

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should we do, he asked. Duang Jo looked at him, amused.

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Why must we do anything? He said, student laughed softly,

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though he still felt uncertain. Drung Joe leaned back slightly,

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letting the sunlight warm his face. Whether I am drunk

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Joe or a butterfly, he said, The wind still moves,

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the sun still rises, and life continues to unfold. He

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closed his eyes again. Perhaps it is enough simply to

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move with it. The student sat quietly. He watched the

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light shift, the shadows shorten, the subtle movement of the

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world around him. For a moment he stopped trying to understand,

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and in that moment something softened. Dung Joe opened his

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eyes once more, tell me, he said gently, When you

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dream tonight, will you know that you are dreaming? The

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student shook his head no. And when you wake, Juang

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Jo asked, how will you know that you have truly awakened.

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The student had no answer. Juang Joe smiled. That is

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the question, he said, and with that he rose as lightly,

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as if he had never been anything but a passing

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movement in the wind. The butterfly dream in the quiet

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state of song, In an age when the world was

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still young enough to ask questions without expecting answers, there

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lived a man named Juang Joe. He was not a king,

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nor a minister, nor a man of wealth. His robes

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were plain, his dwelling modest, and his meals simple. Yet

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those who came to speak with him often left unsettled,

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not because he spoke in riddles, but because he seemed

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to live as if the riddles were already solved. He

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wondered when he wished, slept when he wished, and spoke

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only when the words felt necessary. Some said he was wise,

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Others said he was useless. Jung Jo himself seemed uninterested

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in deciding which was true. One evening, as the sun

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dissolved into amber and then into shadow, shuang Jo lay

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down to rest. The world softened, The sounds of insects

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rose and fell like breath. The distinction between the waking

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and the sleeping began to loosen its hold. And then

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he dreamed. In his dream, he was no longer Duang Joe.

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He was a butterfly. Not a man imagining a butterfly,

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nor a man observing one, but a butterfly entirely without

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memory of anything else. His body was light, his wings delicate,

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shimmering with colours that needed no name. He floated in

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the air, carried not by effort but by the gentlest

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currents of wind. He did not think I am a butterfly.

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He simply was. He drifted over fields of tall grass

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that bent like waves beneath him. He passed through beams

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of sunlight that felt warm but not heavy. Flowers opened

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to him without hesitation, and he tasted their sweetness without

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desire or plan. There was no past, There was no future.

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There was only the movement. Sometimes he rose high, where

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the air thinned and the world stretched out below like

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a painted scroll. Sometimes he dipped low, brushing the tops

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of leaves, feeling the faint resistance of their surfaces. There

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was no purpose to any of it, and yet nothing

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felt incomplete. He was not concerned with survival. He did

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not question his existence. He did not wonder whether he

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was doing the right thing or whether his life had meaning.

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He was simply moving, and in that movement everything was

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already fulfilled. Time in that place had no edge. Moments

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did not follow one another. They unfolded all at once,

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like petals opening without sequence.

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Speaker 3: And then.

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Speaker 2: Something shifted, not suddenly, not violently, but with the quiet

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inevitability of a tide turning. The light changed, the air

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grew still, the butterfly slowed, and then he awoke. Chuang

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Cho opened his eyes. The ceiling above him was familiar.

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The weight of his body returned, pressing gently against the

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map beneath him. The sounds of the night resumed their

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ordinary rhythm. He could feel his breath, his hands, the

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faint stiffness in his limbs. He sat up slowly. For

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a moment, he did not move. He looked at his hands,

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human hands, lined and imperfect. He flexed his fingers as

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00:21:28,920 --> 00:21:33,400
if to test their reality. He touched his face, his arms,

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00:21:33,759 --> 00:21:38,599
the fabric of his robe. Everything was as it had been,

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00:21:40,039 --> 00:21:46,039
and yet something was not the same. He tried to

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recall the dream, not as a story, but as an experience.

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He remembered the lightness. He remembered the absence of thought.

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He remembered the feeling of being entirely at ease, without

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needing to understand why. And most of all, he remembered

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that while he was the butterfly, he had not known

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he was juang Jo. There had been no sense of transition,

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no awareness of difference. He had not thought I was

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once a man. He had not thought I will return

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to being one. He had simply been the butterfly. Juang

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Jo rose and stepped outside. The night was still, the

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sky deep and endless. A faint breeze moved through the trees,

239
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carrying the scent of earth and leaves. He stood there

240
00:22:54,039 --> 00:22:59,160
for a long time. A student who had come to

241
00:22:59,279 --> 00:23:03,920
visit and had been sleeping near by, noticed his teacher

242
00:23:04,079 --> 00:23:06,640
standing in the darkness and approached him.

243
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Speaker 3: Master.

244
00:23:09,480 --> 00:23:14,720
Speaker 2: The student said, quietly, why do you not rest juang

245
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Jo did not answer immediately. Instead, he turned his gaze

246
00:23:21,799 --> 00:23:25,759
toward the horizon, where the first hint of dawn was

247
00:23:25,799 --> 00:23:31,160
beginning to emerge. I had a dream, he said at last.

248
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The student waited. In my dream, I was a butterfly,

249
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dung Jo continued, I flew wherever I wished. I did

250
00:23:42,759 --> 00:23:45,680
not know I was Djungjo. I was only a butterfly.

251
00:23:47,200 --> 00:23:52,400
The student nodded, unsure what to make of this. And

252
00:23:52,519 --> 00:23:57,640
now juang Jo said, I am duang Jo, who has

253
00:23:57,680 --> 00:24:04,240
awakened from dreaming. He was a butterfly. He paused. Then

254
00:24:04,279 --> 00:24:06,920
he asked, but.

255
00:24:06,920 --> 00:24:10,160
Speaker 3: I do not know. Was I juang Jo dreaming I.

256
00:24:10,200 --> 00:24:13,759
Speaker 2: Was a butterfly? Or am I now a butterfly dreaming?

257
00:24:13,880 --> 00:24:20,519
I am juang Jo. The student frowned. He searched for

258
00:24:20,559 --> 00:24:27,279
an answer, but none came easily. Master he said, surely

259
00:24:27,359 --> 00:24:31,279
you are juang Jo. You have always been juang Jo.

260
00:24:31,920 --> 00:24:38,240
The butterfly was only a dream, juang Joe smiled faintly.

261
00:24:39,920 --> 00:24:45,359
Only a dream, he repeated. He bent down and picked

262
00:24:45,440 --> 00:24:49,400
up a small leaf, turning it gently between his fingers.

263
00:24:51,039 --> 00:24:55,200
When I was the butterfly, he said, I did not

264
00:24:55,400 --> 00:24:58,880
feel that I was dreaming. I did not feel that

265
00:24:58,960 --> 00:25:04,000
I was anything other than what I was. He let

266
00:25:04,039 --> 00:25:09,200
the leaf fall. Tell me what makes this state more

267
00:25:09,279 --> 00:25:16,519
real than that one? The student hesitated. This is the

268
00:25:16,559 --> 00:25:22,319
waking world, he said. It is stable, it continues, It

269
00:25:22,400 --> 00:25:28,759
is shared by others. Juang Jo looked at him, and

270
00:25:28,839 --> 00:25:32,200
how do you know that what you call waking is

271
00:25:32,279 --> 00:25:37,079
not simply another kind of dream. The student opened his

272
00:25:37,200 --> 00:25:43,079
mouth to respond, then closed it again. Juang Zho began

273
00:25:43,160 --> 00:25:48,839
to walk slowly along the path. Consider this, he said.

274
00:25:49,359 --> 00:25:52,920
In the dream, there was no juang Zhou. There was

275
00:25:53,000 --> 00:25:57,519
only the butterfly. In this moment, there is no butterfly,

276
00:25:58,160 --> 00:26:05,000
only juang Zhou. He glanced at the student. Yet both

277
00:26:05,119 --> 00:26:11,119
experiences felt complete in themselves. They walked in silence for

278
00:26:11,160 --> 00:26:17,799
a while. The sky grew lighter. Birds began to stir.

279
00:26:19,559 --> 00:26:24,000
Master The student said, at last, are you saying that

280
00:26:24,160 --> 00:26:31,000
nothing is real? Jung Joe shook his head. No, he said,

281
00:26:31,920 --> 00:26:35,599
I am saying that perhaps everything is real, but not

282
00:26:36,160 --> 00:26:40,920
in the way we think. He stopped walking and turned

283
00:26:40,960 --> 00:26:45,440
to face the student. We are always trying to fix

284
00:26:45,519 --> 00:26:49,839
things in place, he said, to say this is true,

285
00:26:50,039 --> 00:26:53,720
that is false, this is real, that is illusion, This

286
00:26:53,960 --> 00:26:59,200
is me, that is not me. He gestured toward the trees,

287
00:26:59,799 --> 00:27:04,960
the sky, the faint movement of the wind. But the

288
00:27:05,039 --> 00:27:08,559
world does not stay still long enough for such certainty.

289
00:27:10,279 --> 00:27:16,319
The student listened carefully. When you were a child, juang

290
00:27:16,400 --> 00:27:19,920
Jo continued, you were different from who you are now.

291
00:27:20,480 --> 00:27:27,200
Your thoughts, your desires, your understanding all have changed. The

292
00:27:27,279 --> 00:27:33,039
student nodded, Yet you say I am the same person.

293
00:27:34,799 --> 00:27:41,880
He tilted his head slightly. Which is true? The student struggled.

294
00:27:43,559 --> 00:27:50,119
I suppose both are true, he said. Jung Jo smiled.

295
00:27:51,400 --> 00:27:51,920
Speaker 4: Just so.

296
00:27:54,039 --> 00:27:59,440
Speaker 2: He resumed walking. The butterfly was not concerned with being

297
00:27:59,480 --> 00:28:04,559
dung Juh, he said, and duang Joe now is concerned

298
00:28:04,599 --> 00:28:10,920
with whether he is the butterfly. He chuckled softly. Which

299
00:28:10,960 --> 00:28:15,960
one do you think is closer to freedom? The student

300
00:28:16,319 --> 00:28:21,759
did not answer. They reached a small clearing where the

301
00:28:21,799 --> 00:28:28,599
sunlight now spilled fully across the ground. Duang Joe sat

302
00:28:28,680 --> 00:28:32,680
down on a stone and closed his eyes briefly, as

303
00:28:32,720 --> 00:28:37,440
if returning to the memory of the dream. When we

304
00:28:37,519 --> 00:28:40,599
cling too tightly to what we think we are, he said,

305
00:28:41,319 --> 00:28:47,160
we create boundaries that may not truly exist. He opened

306
00:28:47,160 --> 00:28:53,119
his eyes. But when we allow things to change, to transform,

307
00:28:53,599 --> 00:28:57,759
to become something else entirely. We begin to see that

308
00:28:57,839 --> 00:29:01,640
the line between this and that is not as solid

309
00:29:01,680 --> 00:29:08,240
as we believed. The student sat beside him. So what

310
00:29:08,359 --> 00:29:14,359
should we do, he asked. Dun Joe looked at him, amused.

311
00:29:16,160 --> 00:29:18,039
Why must we do anything?

312
00:29:18,799 --> 00:29:19,279
Speaker 3: He said?

313
00:29:21,319 --> 00:29:27,960
Speaker 2: The student laughed softly, though he still felt uncertain. Drung

314
00:29:28,079 --> 00:29:32,960
Joe leaned back slightly, letting the sunlight warm his face.

315
00:29:34,680 --> 00:29:39,160
Whether I am drunk Joe or a butterfly, he said,

316
00:29:39,880 --> 00:29:44,799
The wind still moves, the sun still rises, and life

317
00:29:45,039 --> 00:29:52,880
continues to unfold. He closed his eyes again. Perhaps it

318
00:29:52,960 --> 00:29:58,319
is enough simply to move with it. The student sat quietly.

319
00:30:00,119 --> 00:30:05,240
He watched the light shift, the shadows shorten, the subtle

320
00:30:05,359 --> 00:30:10,559
movement of the world around him. For a moment, he

321
00:30:10,680 --> 00:30:16,359
stopped trying to understand, and in that moment something softened.

322
00:30:17,880 --> 00:30:23,240
Dung Jo opened his eyes once more. Tell me, he

323
00:30:23,279 --> 00:30:27,440
said gently. When you dream tonight, will you know that

324
00:30:27,519 --> 00:30:34,759
you are dreaming? The student shook his head no. And

325
00:30:34,839 --> 00:30:38,920
when you wake, jung Jo asked, how will you know

326
00:30:39,039 --> 00:30:44,079
that you have truly awakened. The student had no answer.

327
00:30:45,759 --> 00:30:52,839
Juang Jo smiled. That is the question, he said, and

328
00:30:52,920 --> 00:30:57,319
with that he rose as lightly as if he had

329
00:30:57,359 --> 00:31:00,559
never been anything but a passing movement in the wind.

330
00:31:15,960 --> 00:31:22,559
The butterfly dream in the quiet state of song. In

331
00:31:22,640 --> 00:31:25,119
an age when the world was still young enough to

332
00:31:25,240 --> 00:31:30,519
ask questions without expecting answers, there lived a man named

333
00:31:30,680 --> 00:31:35,720
Juang Joe. He was not a king, nor a minister,

334
00:31:36,359 --> 00:31:40,160
nor a man of wealth. His robes were plain, his

335
00:31:40,279 --> 00:31:45,599
dwelling modest, and his meals simple. Yet those who came

336
00:31:45,680 --> 00:31:49,599
to speak with him often left unsettled, not because he

337
00:31:49,720 --> 00:31:53,359
spoke in riddles, but because he seemed to live as

338
00:31:53,440 --> 00:31:59,039
if the riddles were already solved. He wondered when he wished,

339
00:31:59,599 --> 00:32:03,480
slept when he wished, and spoke only when the words

340
00:32:03,519 --> 00:32:08,799
felt necessary. Some said he was wise, others said he

341
00:32:08,920 --> 00:32:14,599
was useless. Jung Jo himself seemed uninterested in deciding which

342
00:32:14,720 --> 00:32:20,000
was true. One evening, as the sun dissolved into amber

343
00:32:20,400 --> 00:32:23,799
and then into shadow, shuang Jo lay.

344
00:32:23,680 --> 00:32:24,480
Speaker 3: Down to rest.

345
00:32:25,319 --> 00:32:29,359
Speaker 2: The world softened, the sounds of insects rose and fell

346
00:32:29,519 --> 00:32:34,240
like breath. The distinction between the waking and the sleeping

347
00:32:34,599 --> 00:32:41,519
began to loosen its hold, And then he dreamed. In

348
00:32:41,640 --> 00:32:47,039
his dream he was no longer duang Jo. He was

349
00:32:47,480 --> 00:32:53,160
a butterfly. Not a man imagining a butterfly, nor a

350
00:32:53,240 --> 00:32:59,119
man observing one, but a butterfly entirely, without memory of

351
00:32:59,200 --> 00:33:05,599
anything else. His body was light, his wings delicate, shimmering

352
00:33:05,680 --> 00:33:10,079
with colors that needed no name. He floated in the air,

353
00:33:10,880 --> 00:33:14,960
carried not by effort but by the gentlest currents of wind.

354
00:33:16,480 --> 00:33:21,200
He did not think I am a butterfly. He simply was.

355
00:33:23,079 --> 00:33:26,599
He drifted over fields of tall grass that bent like

356
00:33:26,720 --> 00:33:31,440
waves beneath him. He passed through beams of sunlight that

357
00:33:31,599 --> 00:33:37,039
felt warm but not heavy. Flowers opened to him without hesitation,

358
00:33:37,960 --> 00:33:43,920
and he tasted their sweetness, without desire or plan. There

359
00:33:44,000 --> 00:33:48,680
was no past, There was no future. There was only

360
00:33:48,759 --> 00:33:55,599
the movement. Sometimes he rose high, where the air thinned

361
00:33:55,640 --> 00:33:59,119
and the world stretched out below like a painted scroll.

362
00:34:00,119 --> 00:34:05,079
Sometimes he dipped low, brushing the tops of leaves, feeling

363
00:34:05,119 --> 00:34:09,480
the faint resistance of their surfaces. There was no purpose

364
00:34:09,559 --> 00:34:15,320
to any of it, and yet nothing felt incomplete. He

365
00:34:15,400 --> 00:34:20,280
was not concerned with survival. He did not question his existence.

366
00:34:21,039 --> 00:34:23,519
He did not wonder whether he was doing the right

367
00:34:23,599 --> 00:34:29,159
thing or whether his life had meaning. He was simply moving,

368
00:34:29,920 --> 00:34:36,440
and in that movement everything was already fulfilled. Time in

369
00:34:36,559 --> 00:34:42,440
that place had no edge. Moments did not follow one another.

370
00:34:43,360 --> 00:34:48,880
They unfolded all at once, like petals opening without sequence.

371
00:34:50,639 --> 00:34:51,199
Speaker 3: And then.

372
00:34:52,920 --> 00:34:59,760
Speaker 2: Something shifted, not suddenly, not violently, but with the quiet

373
00:35:00,119 --> 00:35:06,719
inevitability of a tide turning. The light changed, the air

374
00:35:06,840 --> 00:35:17,079
grew still, the butterfly slowed, and then he awoke. Chuang

375
00:35:17,199 --> 00:35:22,119
Cho opened his eyes. The ceiling above him was familiar.

376
00:35:22,840 --> 00:35:26,519
The weight of his body returned, pressing gently against the

377
00:35:26,559 --> 00:35:30,480
map beneath him. The sounds of the night resumed their

378
00:35:30,639 --> 00:35:36,039
ordinary rhythm. He could feel his breath, his hands, the

379
00:35:36,039 --> 00:35:42,519
faint stiffness in his limbs. He sat up slowly. For

380
00:35:42,599 --> 00:35:47,239
a moment, he did not move. He looked at his hands,

381
00:35:47,559 --> 00:35:52,920
human hands, lined and imperfect. He flexed his fingers as

382
00:35:52,960 --> 00:35:57,440
if to test their reality. He touched his face, his arms,

383
00:35:57,800 --> 00:36:02,639
the fabric of his robe. Everything was as it had been,

384
00:36:04,119 --> 00:36:10,079
and yet something was not the same. He tried to

385
00:36:10,159 --> 00:36:15,320
recall the dream, not as a story, but as an experience.

386
00:36:17,000 --> 00:36:22,639
He remembered the lightness, He remembered the absence of thought.

387
00:36:24,320 --> 00:36:28,400
He remembered the feeling of being entirely at ease, without

388
00:36:28,440 --> 00:36:34,400
needing to understand why. And most of all, he remembered

389
00:36:34,440 --> 00:36:37,920
that while he was the butterfly, he had not known

390
00:36:38,519 --> 00:36:43,880
he was juung Joe. There had been no sense of transition,

391
00:36:44,760 --> 00:36:49,800
no awareness of difference. He had not thought I was

392
00:36:49,880 --> 00:36:53,920
once a man. He had not thought I will return

393
00:36:54,079 --> 00:37:00,599
to being one. He had simply been the butterfly. Juang

394
00:37:00,719 --> 00:37:06,840
Jo rose and stepped outside. The night was still, the

395
00:37:06,880 --> 00:37:12,480
sky deep and endless. A faint breeze moved through the trees,

396
00:37:13,000 --> 00:37:18,039
carrying the scent of earth and leaves. He stood there

397
00:37:18,079 --> 00:37:23,199
for a long time. A student who had come to

398
00:37:23,320 --> 00:37:27,960
visit and had been sleeping near by, noticed his teacher

399
00:37:28,119 --> 00:37:31,239
standing in the darkness and approached him.

400
00:37:32,320 --> 00:37:32,679
Speaker 3: Master.

401
00:37:33,519 --> 00:37:38,760
Speaker 2: The student said, quietly, why do you not rest? Juang

402
00:37:38,880 --> 00:37:45,800
Jo did not answer immediately. Instead, he turned his gaze

403
00:37:45,880 --> 00:37:49,840
toward the horizon, where the first hint of dawn was

404
00:37:49,880 --> 00:37:55,239
beginning to emerge. I had a dream, he said at last.

405
00:37:56,880 --> 00:38:01,480
The student waited. In my dream, I was a butterfly,

406
00:38:02,280 --> 00:38:06,800
dung Jo continued. I flew wherever I wished. I did

407
00:38:06,800 --> 00:38:09,719
not know I was dung Jo. I was only a butterfly.

408
00:38:11,239 --> 00:38:16,440
The student nodded, unsure what to make of this. And

409
00:38:16,559 --> 00:38:21,679
now juang Jo said, I am juang Jo. Who has

410
00:38:21,719 --> 00:38:28,280
awakened from dreaming. He was a butterfly. He paused. Then

411
00:38:28,360 --> 00:38:30,960
he asked, but.

412
00:38:30,960 --> 00:38:34,199
Speaker 3: I do not know. Was I juang Jo dreaming I.

413
00:38:34,239 --> 00:38:37,800
Speaker 2: Was a butterfly? Or am I now a butterfly dreaming?

414
00:38:37,920 --> 00:38:44,559
I am juang Jo. The student frowned. He searched for

415
00:38:44,599 --> 00:38:51,320
an answer, but none came easily. Master he said, surely

416
00:38:51,400 --> 00:38:55,360
you are duang Jo. You have always been juang Jo.

417
00:38:55,960 --> 00:39:02,280
The butterfly was only a dream, drung Joe smiled faintly.

418
00:39:03,960 --> 00:39:09,400
Only a dream, he repeated. He bent down and picked

419
00:39:09,480 --> 00:39:13,400
up a small leaf, turning it gently between his fingers.

420
00:39:15,079 --> 00:39:19,360
When I was the butterfly, he said, I did not

421
00:39:19,480 --> 00:39:22,920
feel that I was dreaming. I did not feel that

422
00:39:23,000 --> 00:39:28,000
I was anything other than what I was. He let

423
00:39:28,079 --> 00:39:33,280
the leaf fall. Tell me what makes this state more

424
00:39:33,320 --> 00:39:40,559
real than that one? The student hesitated. This is the

425
00:39:40,599 --> 00:39:46,360
waking world, he said. It is stable, it continues, It

426
00:39:46,440 --> 00:39:52,800
is shared by others. Drung Joe looked at him, and

427
00:39:52,880 --> 00:39:56,280
how do you know that what you call waking is

428
00:39:56,320 --> 00:40:01,119
not simply another kind of dream? The student opened his

429
00:40:01,239 --> 00:40:07,119
mouth to respond, then closed it again. Quang Jo began

430
00:40:07,199 --> 00:40:12,920
to walk slowly along the path. Consider this, he said,

431
00:40:13,400 --> 00:40:16,960
In the dream, there was no juang Zhou. There was

432
00:40:17,039 --> 00:40:21,599
only the butterfly. In this moment, there is no butterfly,

433
00:40:22,199 --> 00:40:29,039
only juang Zhou. He glanced at the student. Yet both

434
00:40:29,159 --> 00:40:35,159
experiences felt complete in themselves. They walked in silence for

435
00:40:35,199 --> 00:40:44,000
a while. The sky grew lighter, birds began to stir. Master.

436
00:40:44,920 --> 00:40:48,599
The student said, at last, are you saying that nothing

437
00:40:48,679 --> 00:40:55,400
is real? Juang Jo shook his head. No, he said,

438
00:40:55,960 --> 00:40:59,679
I am saying that perhaps everything is real, but not

439
00:41:00,199 --> 00:41:04,960
in the way we think. He stopped walking and turned

440
00:41:05,000 --> 00:41:09,480
to face the student. We are always trying to fix

441
00:41:09,559 --> 00:41:13,880
things in place, he said, to say this is true,

442
00:41:14,079 --> 00:41:17,760
that is false, this is real, that is illusion, This

443
00:41:18,000 --> 00:41:23,280
is me, that is not me. He gestured toward the trees,

444
00:41:23,960 --> 00:41:29,000
the sky, the faint movement of the wind. But the

445
00:41:29,079 --> 00:41:32,599
world does not stay still long enough for such certainty.

446
00:41:34,320 --> 00:41:40,360
The student listened carefully. When you were a child, juang

447
00:41:40,440 --> 00:41:43,960
Jho continued, you were different from who you are now.

448
00:41:44,519 --> 00:41:51,239
Your thoughts, your desires, your understanding all have changed. The

449
00:41:51,320 --> 00:41:57,079
student nodded, Yet you say I am the same person.

450
00:41:58,840 --> 00:42:05,920
He tilted his head slightly. Which is true? The student struggled.

451
00:42:07,559 --> 00:42:14,239
I suppose both are true, he said, juang Jo smiled.

452
00:42:15,440 --> 00:42:16,039
Speaker 3: Just so.

453
00:42:18,119 --> 00:42:23,519
Speaker 2: He resumed walking. The butterfly was not concerned with being

454
00:42:23,599 --> 00:42:28,599
duang Jo, he said, and dung Jo now is concerned

455
00:42:28,639 --> 00:42:34,960
with whether he is the butterfly. He chuckled softly. Which

456
00:42:35,000 --> 00:42:40,039
one do you think is closer to freedom? The student

457
00:42:40,360 --> 00:42:45,800
did not answer. They reached a small clearing where the

458
00:42:45,840 --> 00:42:52,639
sunlight now spilled fully across the ground. Juang Joe sat

459
00:42:52,719 --> 00:42:56,719
down on a stone and closed his eyes briefly, as

460
00:42:56,760 --> 00:43:01,480
if returning to the memory of the dream. When we

461
00:43:01,559 --> 00:43:04,639
cling too tightly to what we think we are, he said,

462
00:43:05,400 --> 00:43:11,199
we create boundaries that may not truly exist. He opened

463
00:43:11,239 --> 00:43:17,159
his eyes. But when we allow things to change, to transform,

464
00:43:17,679 --> 00:43:21,840
to become something else entirely, we begin to see that

465
00:43:21,880 --> 00:43:25,679
the line between this and that is not as solid

466
00:43:25,719 --> 00:43:32,280
as we believed. The student sat beside him. So what

467
00:43:32,400 --> 00:43:38,400
should we do, he asked. Dung Joe looked at him, amused.

468
00:43:40,199 --> 00:43:42,079
Why must we do anything?

469
00:43:42,840 --> 00:43:43,320
Speaker 3: He said?

470
00:43:45,360 --> 00:43:52,000
Speaker 2: The student laughed softly, though he still felt uncertain. Drung

471
00:43:52,119 --> 00:43:57,000
Joe leaned back slightly, letting the sunlight warm his face.

472
00:43:58,719 --> 00:44:03,239
Whether I am drunk Joe or a butterfly, he said,

473
00:44:03,960 --> 00:44:08,920
The wind still moves, the sun still rises and life

474
00:44:09,079 --> 00:44:16,960
continues to unfold. He closed his eyes again. Perhaps it

475
00:44:17,039 --> 00:44:22,400
is enough simply to move with it. The student sat quietly.

476
00:44:24,119 --> 00:44:29,280
He watched the light shift, the shadows shorten, the subtle

477
00:44:29,400 --> 00:44:34,599
movement of the world around him. For a moment he

478
00:44:34,719 --> 00:44:40,400
stopped trying to understand, and in that moment something softened.

479
00:44:41,960 --> 00:44:47,239
Jung Joe opened his eyes once more, tell me, he

480
00:44:47,320 --> 00:44:51,440
said gently. When you dream tonight, will you know that

481
00:44:51,559 --> 00:44:58,840
you are dreaming? The student shook his head no. And

482
00:44:58,880 --> 00:45:02,960
when you wake, juang Jo asked, how will you know

483
00:45:03,079 --> 00:45:08,119
that you have truly awakened. The student had no answer.

484
00:45:09,800 --> 00:45:16,880
Juang Jo smiled. That is the question, he said, and

485
00:45:16,960 --> 00:45:21,360
with that he rose as lightly, as if he had

486
00:45:21,400 --> 00:45:24,599
never been anything but a passing movement in the wind.

487
00:46:08,760 --> 00:50:49,880
Speaker 4: Supercasle spread in frank s Spa