The Winged Chair in the Green Sea

Metaphorical Narrative

Imagine a vast green sea. The water glows with the reflections of giant pillars, painting every wave.

Floating in the middle is a chair with delicate wings. Anyone can sit there — to work, to dream, to create. But there’s a condition: you believe you must keep pedaling with your legs while your arms work, or else the chair will tip.

So you pedal. You pedal through days and nights, never sure if you’re working or just keeping the chair alive.

Then one day, you look closer. The wings were never decorative — they were stabilizers. The chair has always floated on its own. The frantic movement was never required.

You stop pedaling. The chair carries you. And suddenly the sea is not a place of strain, but of ease. You can enjoy the cool water while still doing your work.

Core Insight

False regret makes us believe survival depends on constant struggle. We think, “I must work harder, or do it like others, or I’ll sink.” But often the system, the life, the body, already has its own wings.

In psychology, this is the trap of learned effort: the brain associates safety with constant striving, even when it’s no longer needed. The cost is exhaustion and endless regret for not doing more.

The truth is simple: the chair floats without your frantic pedaling. Trust is the real stabilizer.

Saturday Experiment

This weekend, test what happens when you stop pedaling:

1. Pick one task where you normally over-exert (extra polishing, over-checking, endless comparing).
2. Do it once, then stop. Let it stand without the usual struggle.
3. Notice: Did the chair sink, or did it hold steady all along?

Sunday Reflection

Write in third person:

• What does it look like when they keep pedaling, even though the chair already floats?
• What shifts when they finally stop and trust the wings?
• How much of their regret was tied to unnecessary effort?
• What becomes possible when they let the chair carry them with ease?