True freedom, for Zhuangzi, isn’t a ticket to do whatever crosses the mind—it’s an inner state where “going with the flow” becomes second nature. Imagine the boundless sky after a storm: nothing pins it down, nothing weighs it. That’s the heart of Zhuangzi’s vision.

Every parable nudges toward unshackling from rigid labels. Take the famous story of the giant fish Kun turning into the bird Peng. Neither fish-ness nor bird-ness confines this creature; it simply rides the currents, effortlessly transcending categories. These tales invite slipping off roles imposed by society—scholar, entrepreneur, activist—and embracing whatever moment unfolds. In an era where remote work and digital nomadism rose from pandemic ashes, there’s a familiar itch to define freedom as endless choice. Zhuangzi pokes at that: true freedom isn’t scrolling through options but shedding the illusion of choice itself.

Detachment becomes a superpower. By seeing thoughts, emotions and even one’s own career path as passing guests, freedom shows up unannounced, like a long-lost friend. No rigid planning or frantic self-help rituals; instead, a playful trust in life’s rhythms. That “wu wei”—action through non-action—echoes today’s mindfulness buzz but runs deeper. It’s not just calming breathing exercises; it’s dissolving the boundary between self and moment until they’re inseparable.

When everything’s trying to grab attention—social media’s loud chatter, AI’s next big breakthrough—the Zhuangzi approach offers a paradox. The less one clings to outcomes, the freer one becomes to pivot, create, even dance in the storm. Casting off mental shackles doesn’t guarantee smooth sailing, but it does reveal how true freedom is less about controlling every wind and more about unfurling sails at exactly the right time. So, rather than wrestling with life’s currents, the art lies in learning to surf them.