Stick #72
AverageAsking about Love · one of the deck's middle grade signs
The short answer
The farmer in this verse isn't unlucky.
Reviewed 2026-06-08
Full readingStick No. 72
守株待兔
Asking about Love · one of the deck's middle grade signs
The short answer
The farmer in this verse isn't unlucky.
Reviewed 2026-06-08
Full readingOnes a careless hare bumped into a tree and died.
A man saw this and thought another would come by.
Day after day he sat idly under the same tree, Having ruined his life, how stubborn he could be!
This tale comes from the ancient Chinese philosopher Han Feizi, dating back over 2,000 years. A farmer working his fields witnessed a hare running so fast it crashed into a tree stump and died instantly. Free dinner!
The farmer was thrilled. But instead of returning to his crops, he sat by that same stump every day, convinced another hare would appear. His fields went untended, his harvest failed, and he became the laughingstock of his village.
The story became a famous Chinese idiom about the folly of passive waiting. In modern China, parents still tell children this story to warn against laziness and magical thinking. The moral is timeless: good things require effort, not wishful thinking.
The farmer in this verse isn't unlucky. He had one good evening, one strange piece of fortune at the foot of a tree, and decided that was the shape of the world from now on. The stick draws this figure for you because something in your love life has hardened into waiting. Maybe it's a person you've half-decided will come back if you just don't move. Maybe it's a version of romance you experienced once, briefly, and have been quietly auditioning every new connection against ever since. The tree stump in your story has a specific location, and you know where it is.
Middle grade here matters. The verse isn't scolding you and it isn't promising rescue; it's reflecting that your stillness has started to look like strategy when it's actually fear of being the one who moves first. What you're calling patience, the reader of this stick would gently call avoidance. The hare came once. Sitting longer doesn't summon another, it just lets the field behind you go to seed, and the field is everything else: the friendships you're not tending, the version of yourself who used to initiate, the curiosity about people you haven't met yet because you're still facing the wrong direction.
Name the stump out loud, even if only to yourself: the person, the memory, or the imagined timeline you've been seated beside. Then turn your back on it for one week. Reply to the message you've been letting age.
Say yes to the one social thing you'd normally decline because they probably won't be there. If you're already partnered, initiate the conversation you've been waiting for them to start. The stick doesn't ask you to chase; it asks you to stand up and walk back into your own field.