The Empty Harvest
There once was a farmer whose wheat field was ravaged by insect plagues and flooding. The next year, desperate for a good harvest, he prayed earnestly to God. “Please,” he pleaded, “let there be only gentle breezes and plenty of sunshine. Keep away the cruel winds, the deep cold, and the hungry insects. I want perfect conditions for my wheat.”

God granted the request.

Throughout the season, the weather was perfect. There were no storms, no intense, punishing sun, and no freezing winds. The farmer was delighted; his wheat grew taller, greener, and more lush than anyone else’s in the valley. It was a picture-perfect crop, free from all stress.

At harvest time, the farmer went to his field with great pride, ready to gather a record-breaking crop. He cut down a stalk, but when he went to thresh it, he found the ears were completely empty. The hulls were beautiful and golden, but there was no grain inside—not a single kernel of wheat.

Shocked and angry, the farmer cried out, “God, why have you failed me? This crop is worthless!”

God replied, “My dear friend, you chose only the comfortable sunshine. You feared the storm. You did not know that wheat needs the challenge of harsh weather to develop. It is the cold wind that forces the roots to go deep. It is the scorching sun that ripens the grain inside. By avoiding all that was ‘bad’ (the struggle), you have produced empty, impotent wheat.”

This parable is a classic allegory that serves as a reminder not to long for a lighter load, but to discipline oneself toward a stronger back. True fulfillment and “grain” (substance) come from navigating the storms, not just basking in the sun.

The crises of our world are entirely man-made. We refuse to dwell in the expansiveness of the Tao because our basic appetites remain at odds with the virtue of goodness. At the core of our existence lies an “evil” nurtured by one thing: fear.

For the primitive mind, fear is a tool for survival. For the majority of Homo sapiens, life remains a desperate struggle for self-preservation. Yet, there is no virtue in mere survival, and our obsession with it creates a ripple effect of suffering throughout the world. When we look deeply into the mechanics of society, we realize we have built a world in the image of our most basic instincts. We are locked in a perpetual fight for existence.

This mischief persists because we seek to live without virtue. We assume that if we are “good,” we will be overtaken by the violent. This core fear manifests as a world of predators; we have created a reality based on the mandate to “eat or be eaten.” This is the engine of poverty, illness, and war.

On a global level, peace is impossible because the collective lack of virtue is too vast. Harmony can only be reclaimed on an individual level through the “Te” (inner virtue). Our logic and reasoning cannot reconcile this fear; in fact, our entire mental acuity is often just a servant to our violent impulses.

I recently tried to explain this to a friend who does not practice. His response was simple: “Well, Greg, we’ve gotta eat.”That is the crux of the problem. We cannot see beyond the “killing.” Whether literal or metaphorical, we seek to destroy anything that moves against the grain of our fear. We have incarnated into bodies that find a certain appeal in ruthlessness.

When I speak of the Tao, my audience is small. Transformation is less popular than instinct. To change, we must place virtue ahead of impulse. If you are honest in your meditation, you will see that much of what drives you is a thirst for a metaphorical “blood”—pride, vengeance, and ego. Even as you read this, a part of you likely disagrees; the ruthless part of your nature resents being exposed.

The Tao Te Ching #51 teaches us a different way:
The Way gives birth to them,
nourishes them,
raises them,
nurtures them,
protects them,
matures them,
takes care of them.
It gives birth without seizing,
helps without claim,
fosters without ruling.
This is called the profound virtue.

We are bound to the conditions we create within our own awareness. Because we lack interest in true Virtue, we dictate a world of mere survival. We fight to exist when we could be living for the blessing of the “Profound Virtue.”