为什么越努力，我们越迷失？

From childhood onward, we are taught one idea: people must work hard to succeed. Yet I have suddenly come to understand that, although effort matters, trying too hard can make us lose what is truly precious—passion, purity, ease, and peace.

Looking back on my life, the time I miss most is junior high school, when studying felt as natural as breathing. On the day of the high school entrance examination, I drank cola while watching a UEFA Champions League match, then made my way to the examination room without rushing. Once I received the paper, my thinking was clear and I worked through it in one smooth flow. I ultimately placed second in my class—just one point behind first place—and was admitted to a top provincial high school.

I was so innocent and happy then, without the slightest pressure or anxiety, heaviness or worry. I never wondered what would happen if I did badly, or what would happen if I did well. Every class, every study session, and every exam was simply part of life. I focused on what I was doing and enjoyed it without complication.

Unfortunately, I gradually lost that state. The change began around the time I started pouring more of my energy into studying. I played less and thought more. I began judging everything as right or wrong; learning stopped being enjoyable; self-doubt and melancholy grew. My grades declined, and the sunshine faded from my life.

More unfortunate still, once that earlier state of simplicity is lost, it is almost impossible to recover. The harder you try to regain it, the more the result seems to move in the opposite direction.

W. Timothy Gallwey, author of The Inner Game of Tennis, wrote that “the secret to winning any game lies in not trying too hard.”

Gallwey says that every player has two “selves” within: “Self 1,” which gives instructions, and “Self 2,” which acts. By thinking too much and trying too hard, Self 1 creates tension and conflict in the body. When performance falls short, it places all the blame on Self 2. The more Self 1 criticizes, the less confidence Self 2 has, the stiffer its movements become, and the deeper the frustration grows.

How can we break this vicious cycle? The only way is to quiet Self 1. Think about the moments when people perform at their best. They are often in a state of self-forgetfulness. They do not overthink whether each step is right or what they should do next; they simply make the most natural and graceful movement without conscious calculation.

As the Zen teacher D. T. Suzuki wrote in Zen in the Art of Archery, “Human beings are thinking reeds, yet their greatest works are completed when calculation and thought fall away. The state of childlike innocence must be restored.”

The most beautiful state in life is one in which Self 1 and Self 2 coexist in harmony, merge into one, and live fully in the present. The first step toward that state is to let go of self-judgment and stop clinging to whether we perform well or badly.

We need to genuinely understand and experience the difference between “allowing something to happen naturally” and “deliberately striving to make it happen.” Natural learning is an ability every one of us is born with. The fewer desires, fears, and doubts we insert into the process, the more smoothly learning unfolds.

This is also why children learn so quickly: they have not yet learned how to interfere with themselves. They are not driven by utility, do not overthink, and do not doubt themselves. Everything unfolds naturally.

Looking back now, perhaps that was the childlike state I inhabited in junior high school. We spend half our lives learning to strive, and then must spend the other half learning to let go.

Perhaps true growth means carrying the experience and wisdom gained through outward pursuit back inward, exploring ourselves again, and rediscovering the pure, innocent self we once forgot.