Alone and Unmoved
The Text
众人熙熙，如享太牢，如春登台。我独泊兮，其未兆，如婴儿之未孩；儽儽兮，若无所归。众人皆有余，而我独若遗。我愚人之心也哉，沌沌兮！俗人昭昭，我独昏昏。俗人察察，我独闷闷。澹兮其若海，飂兮若无止。众人皆有以，而我独顽且鄙。我独异于人，而贵食母。
Others are full of joy, as if at a feast, as if climbing a terrace in spring. I alone am still, giving no sign — like an infant not yet smiling, adrift with nowhere to return. Others all have plenty; I alone seem to have lost everything. I am foolish, muddled; ordinary people are bright, I alone am dark; they are sharp, I alone am dull — drifting like the sea, blowing like wind that will not stop. Others all have purpose; I alone am awkward, wanting to differ — I nurse from the mother herself.
Reading it
The most personal chapter, and the loneliest. Its strangeness is structural: someone who has dropped the shared vocabulary will look like the fool at the banquet. The last line names what the fool is actually doing — feeding from the source the crowd has stopped noticing.
全书最私人的一章，也最孤独。它的怪是结构性的：放下共同词汇的人，看起来就像宴席上的傻子。末句点名傻子实际在做什么——从众人不再留意的源头进食。
Sit once this week with no purpose at all, and let it feel awkward without fixing it.
这周有一次什么都不为地坐着，任那份别扭存在，不去修它。