The Philosophy of "Maybe"

Hello, curious souls. Grab your favourite drink ☕️, settle in somewhere comfortable… Your weekly pause is here.

A few years ago, I began listening to Alan Watts’ lectures. It was for an unusual reason. I wasn’t particularly interested in philosophy at that time; I just listened because I found his voice quite soothing and calming. 

And honestly, I do not remember much from his lectures. However, there’s this one story about a Chinese farmer that he tells in one of his lectures that has stayed with me ever since I heard it. 

So, I thought that story could be a perfect point of discussion for Think About It. If you’re someone who knows Alan Watts, then chances are you may have heard that story as well, but if not, then here it is (paraphrased; watch the video below if you want to hear it in Alan’s voice):

Once a Chinese farmer lost his horse. When his neighbours came to know that, they go to him and say, “It’s bad, isn’t it?” The farmer replies, “Maybe.”

The next day, his horse returns and brings several wild horses along with it. Upon seeing this, all the neighbours come to him and say, “That’s wonderful, isn’t it?” The farmer says, “Maybe.”

The next morning, the farmer’s son breaks his leg while trying to tame one of these horses. Again, when neighbours see that, they say, “Well, that’s terrible, isn’t it?” Again, the farmer says, “Maybe.”

And then the next day, conscription officers come to the village looking to recruit soldiers for war. They don’t choose the farmer’s son because of his broken leg. When neighbours come to know of that, they come along and say, “What great luck that is.” The farmer just says, “Maybe.”

You can’t help but chuckle at this point. 

And there’s a reason why such simple stories stay with you long after you hear them, and that’s because of the lessons and deep wisdom they contain. 

On the surface, you will see that this story is about not rushing to label events as “good” or “bad.” It shows us what looks disastrous today may prove fortunate tomorrow, and what looks like fortune may contain future pain. Reality is a movie, not a snapshot.

The deeper philosophy here is rooted in Taoism, the ancient Chinese way of seeing the world. Taoism emphasises flow, change, and the limits of human judgment.

Instead of dividing the world into rigid categories—good/bad, success/failure, lucky/unlucky, and so on—this Taoist philosophy suggests that life is a shifting pattern, and we can’t see the full design from our narrow perspective.

In the story, the farmer's response is one of non-judgment and acceptance. It's a rejection of the dualistic human tendency to label events.

The farmer embodies something called wu wei, which translates to “non-forcing” or “effortless action”. It’s a way of living that tells us to not fight the current but moves with it.

Now, you may question: why do we like to label things? And being wise means accepting things as they are instead of labeling them, so that means accepting uncertainty, but why do we crave certainty so much in the first place?

Why we label things

The desire to label and the craving for certainty are deeply ingrained parts of our psychology.
We label things for two primary reasons: survival and comprehension.

Survival because our brains evolved to categorise things to quickly assess threats and opportunities. For instance, is that animal a "predator" or "prey"? Or is that plant "poisonous" or "edible"? Labeling is a shortcut that allows for rapid decision-making in a world full of threats. It’s an efficiency hack for the brain.

And comprehension, because we use labels to create a sense of order in a chaotic universe. A label is a cognitive container that helps us understand, organise, and communicate complex ideas. For example, when we say "sad," we are using a label to quickly describe a constellation of feelings, which allows us to connect with others who understand that label. Without labels, the world would be an overwhelming jumble of unfiltered experiences.

So, the impulse to label is not a flaw; it's a feature of how our brains work. It's a coping mechanism designed to help us navigate reality.

The craving for certainty

Our craving for certainty is a natural extension of our need for control and safety. When things are certain, they are predictable. And when things are predictable, we feel safe.

Uncertainty triggers a primitive fear response in the brain. The unknown represents a potential threat, and our minds are wired to seek out and resolve that uncertainty.

Also, we are uncomfortable with ambiguity and contradiction. Our brains naturally try to resolve conflicting ideas. Uncertainty forces us to sit with that discomfort, which is a state we are biologically wired to avoid.

Hence, in terms of reality, the story suggests two things. First, reality is never finished; events keep unfolding, so any judgment is provisional. Second, reality doesn’t obey our neat labels. Our categories of “good” and “bad” say more about us than about the world itself.

The main lesson that this parable teaches us is that the world is inherently uncertain and that our labels are just labels, not the ultimate reality. When we realise that we move from a survival-oriented mindset to a more enlightened one.

There are many other great thinkers who have talked about similar ideas…

The Stoics also taught not to label events as good or bad but to see them as indifferent. What matters is how you respond, not what happens.

Nietzsche has discussed the idea of amor fati or “the love of fate”. Instead of asking whether an event is good or bad, Nietzsche urges us to embrace it wholly, as if we had chosen it.

In Hamlet, Shakespeare writes: “There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.” That line could be dropped straight into the farmer’s mouth 😅 

Before wrapping up, here’s something for you to think about:

Does that mean we can't ever know whether anything is good or bad? Because according to this Taoist notion, we always have to wait to find out, but then there is no ultimate outcome because life keeps unfolding. Also, this implies that everything (every event that happens) is connected. But is that always the case?

That’s all for this week.

Hope you enjoyed this one.
Will see you again next week.

Until then
Stay curious…

Zaid