A Story About Maintenance, Innovation, and Falling Off a Cliff.

Why Budgets Always Build New Bridges.

The bridge at Tanjung Lipat in Kota Kinabalu was built in the 1970s. It served the city for five decades. Then, on July 31, 2026, it was closed with immediate effect after inspectors found serious structural damage to the bridge deck . A temporary Bailey bridge will take two to three weeks to install . Heavy vehicles are banned from the contra-flow route. Traffic congestion has become a daily reality. (Based on newspaper reports).

And the permanent solution? The government says a new study is needed to consider "the latest traffic needs" before building a replacement bridge.

Bridges do not become unsafe overnight. They deteriorate over years - probably decades - It is the predictable result of a system that rewards building new things and ignores keeping old things alive.

Why don't governments' annual budgets include preventive maintenance for every piece of infrastructure it has ever built? Then I came across on YouTube the Prior Signal video on maintenance, and some pieces started fitting together.

The Goldmine We Don't See

In 2018, the IMF published a Fiscal Monitor titled Managing Public Wealth. The numbers are staggering: across 31 countries, public assets are worth US$101 trillion, or 219 percent of GDP . This includes infrastructure, public corporations, natural resources, and financial investments.

But the report's most damning finding is simpler: most governments don't know what they own, or how fast it's depreciating . As the IMF put it, most governments avoid "the additional scrutiny" that comprehensive balance sheets would bring .

Dag Detter and Stefan Fölster took this argument further in The Public Wealth of Nations. They argued that the privatization-versus-nationalization debate is "pointless and irrelevant." The real question is whether assets are managed effectively . Their estimate: professionally managed public commercial assets could generate US$2.7 trillion annually - more than current global spending on transport, power, water, and communications combined .

Instead, those assets are leaking. And almost nobody is counting the loss.

Why Maintenance Never Makes the Budget?

First: the political incentives are backwards.

Cutting the ribbon on a new bridge can get you a photo op and a headline. Architects and construction firms get awards. Politicians say "development." But maintaining a bridge? No one gets credit for "the bridge didn't collapse this year."

Lee Vinsel and Andrew Russell made this point in The Innovation Delusion. They document how our obsession with the new has distorted everything: corporations hire Chief Innovation Officers while core businesses tank; computer science programs focus on development even though most jobs are in maintenance; and suburban sprawl has saddled cities with infrastructure and piles of deferred maintenance they can't afford to fix .

"Deferred maintenance" is the key phrase. It's not "no maintenance." It's maintenance postponed - pushed from this year to next year, from this administration to the next.

Second: the construction industry has a structural interest in new builds.

New projects mean new contracts, new awards, new revenue. Maintenance means routine, low-margin, invisible labor. Vinsel and Russell describe how this "innovation worship" has systematically devalued what they call the "maintainer caste" .

Third - and most insidious - bridges don't fall down in year one.

This is the "falling off a cliff" curve. A bridge without maintenance looks fine for years. Minor cracking, slow corrosion, clogged drainage - these are silent. Then one year, a threshold is crossed, and structural integrity fails. The repair cost jumps from patching to reconstruction.

The Economics: Why "Saving Money" Costs More.

The counterargument is predictable: budgets are tight. Isn't it more "efficient" to spend on other new projects?

No. The economics of preventive maintenance are well established. Research from the Federal Highway Administration shows that preventive maintenance costs roughly $10,270 per lane-mile, compared to $45,570 for rehabilitation and $574,000 for reconstruction. 

Michigan reported that preventive maintenance costs were 14 times less than rehabilitation, yielding $700 million in savings from 1992 to 1996, with an overall life-cycle cost-benefit ratio of 6:1 .

The barriers, the FHWA notes, are not technical. They are political and cultural: the public is "averse to steering maintenance dollars toward pavements in good looking condition"; agencies receive more complaints about visible defects than about overall network health; and "preventive maintenance programs are particularly susceptible to funding variability" .

Maintenance is a long-term investment. Political cycles are short-term. The mismatch is structural.

What Can Be Done?

The solution could be, for example, to set a maximum period of minimal maintenance for every piece of infrastructure, with a fixed date for full inspection and repair.

The IMF's report points the same way. If governments treated public assets as assets, they would need systematic balance sheets, depreciation calculations, and maintenance budgets . Once you know what you own and what it's worth, ignoring maintenance becomes harder to justify.

Detter and Fölster go further: take public commercial assets out of direct political control and place them under professional management in a "National Wealth Fund" . Maintenance then becomes a basic requirement of asset preservation, not a discretionary line item subject to annual political whims.

But the "difficult balance" is real. Governments face short-term pressure to show results. Voters want visible benefits now. Maintenance is silent; innovation is loud. Vinsel and Russell call for a cultural shift - from "innovation worship" to a "maintenance mindset", starting with "Fix it first" .

Conclusion: The Bridge Won't Fix Itself.

Tanjung Lipat is closed. The Bailey bridge will hold for a while. The government says a study is needed. That study might take years. The damaged bridge will stand there, a monument to a simple truth:

All infrastructure ages. If we don't budget for maintenance, we are budgeting for a possible disaster. Obviously this would be correct if the reduced maintenance was intended, eg for a planned replacement in say 5 years, of an expanded new bridge.

The IMF data tells us public assets are vast wealth. But wealth requires management - regular upkeep, timely repairs, honest accounting. That isn't "innovation." It's basic stewardship.

Vinsel and Russell put it best: "Maintenance and repair, the mostly invisible work of keeping things going, affects more people's lives than most technological innovations." 

(With assistance from DeepSeek, based on my prompts)

The Art of The Mirror Mind. A Final Reflection.

 

The Art of the Mirror Mind: Why "Doing Nothing" is Actually Everything

Whenever some of my friends look at my WhatsApp avatar, I usually get the same text: “Action without action? What on earth does that mean? Are you just practicing being lazy in your retirement?”

They are asking about Wu Wei (無為), a foundational concept in Daoism often translated as "non-action" or "effortless action."

To a modern society obsessed with hustle, productivity, and rigid planning, the idea of acting without effort sounds like a riddle. But as I dove deeper into the teachings of Laozi, Zhuangzi, the Buddha, and even the Western Stoics, I realized they were all pointing to something that rhymes.

They weren't teaching us to be passive. They were handing us a mental toolkit to navigate a chaotic world without destroying ourselves.

Here is how three ancient philosophies teach the ultimate art of letting go.

1. Laozi: The Wisdom of the Useless Tree

In his classic text, the Daodejing, Laozi introduces wu wei through the natural world. He notes that the Dao never forces anything, yet nothing is left undone.

Think about Zhuangzi’s famous parable of the Useless Tree. A carpenter disdains a massive, gnarled oak tree because its wood is too crooked to be turned into straight timber. It is labeled "useless." But because it is useless to human exploitation, it escapes the axe. It lives out its natural lifespan, spreading massive branches so travelers can rest peacefully beneath its shade.

When we try to force ourselves into molds created by societal vanity or expectations, we mutilate our own nature. The tree practices wu wei just by existing. It doesn't strain to grow leaves or anxiously calculate how many birds it can save. By resting in its own unique nature, it naturally becomes a sanctuary for an entire ecosystem.

2. Zhuangzi: The Mind is a Mirror

If Laozi gives us the philosophy, Zhuangzi gives us the daily psychology. In Chapter 7, he shares his most famous metaphor:

“The Perfect Man uses his mind like a mirror—going after nothing, welcoming nothing, responding but not storing.”

Think about how reality works like a mirror. Images constantly appear and disappear across its surface. A bird flies past, a storm clouds over, then the bright sun shines. The mirror doesn’t try to freeze the beautiful images, nor does it violently push away the ugly ones. It lets them pass.

Suffering arises when our minds do the opposite. We grab onto the good moments and panic when they leave; we obsess over the bad moments and store them as baggage. A mirror remains clean, light, and unhurt because it refuses to carry the dead weight of the past or the future.

3. The Buddha: Enlightenment is Letting Go

While the historical Buddha lived in India and didn't use the Chinese word wu wei, his deepest psychological teachings are its spiritual twin.

The Buddha started with a profound truth: human suffering is caused by Taṇhā (grasping or clinging). We constantly take up toxic beliefs, worldly labels, and anxieties, dragging them around like heavy boulders.

Your mind is naturally empty, just like Zhuangzi's mirror. Emotions like anger, fear, or pride are not you - they are real, but they are just passing reflections arising due to temporary conditions.

The Buddha’s core message wasn't about trying to magically "fix" yourself after you've already ruined your peace. His teaching is proactive prevention: From now on, don't take these heavy burdens up, and gracefully put down the ones you mistakenly picked up in the past.

True awakening - stepping into the spiritual stream - is not about gaining a trophy. As the great meditation masters say: Enlightenment is simply the act of letting go.

Philosophy vs. Organized Religion: The Clean Slate

As I reflect on these teachings, I notice a striking difference between these original philosophies and the organized, institutionalized religions they later morphed into.

Institutional religions often operate like a marketplace. They present you as inherently flawed or helpless, and then "sell" you a cure via external divine assistance, rigid group rituals, or strict hierarchies.

But the original teachings of the Buddha, Laozi, and even the Roman Stoics like Marcus Aurelius completely flip this. They tell us that the responsibility, the power, and the clarity reside entirely inside you. No one can observe your mind for you. No one can clear the dust off your mirror but you.

Plowing the Soil

So, what is our purpose in this life?

It isn't to frantically grab at "enlightenment" or "Nirvana" - because chasing those things is just another form of ego-driven grasping. Instead, our job is simply to be like a wise farmer. We plow the soil of our minds, plant the seeds of kindness, and pull the weeds of anger and greed.

When the conditions are ripe, the crop grows on its own timeline. You cannot scream at a seed to make it grow faster.

The next time someone asks me why my avatar stands for "action without action," I will tell them this: I am learning to stop fighting the ocean. I am learning to let the reflections pass, to stand beautifully crooked like the useless tree, and to simply let go.

The Full Parable of The Useless Tree and The Parable of Your Mind Is A Mirror.

 

A takeaway of the Parable of the Useless Tree (Zhuangzi, Chapters 1 and 4).

Everything in nature has its own unique, intrinsic nature (Ziran), and suffering or destruction happens when we try to force ourselves to be something we are not. This is exactly where the parable beautifully connects to wu wei.

Here is how this insight bridges the concepts of "inherent value" and "non-forcing":

The Dynamic of the Parable

In the story, a carpenter disdains a massive, gnarled oak tree because its wood is too twisted for timber, its branches too crooked for furniture, and its fruit toxic. It is deemed "useless."

However, Zhuangzi points out that because the tree is "useless" to human exploitation, it escapes the axe. It gets to live out its natural lifespan, spreading its massive branches so travelers can rest peacefully beneath its shade.

1. Connecting The Insight to Wu Wei

The lesson is "not trying to force myself to be something I’m not." In Daoism, forcing yourself to fit into a mold created by societal expectations, vanity, or ego is the ultimate form of youwei (forced, unnatural action).

• The Forced Approach (Youwei): If the gnarled tree spent its life desperately trying to grow straight, rigid, and uniform to please the carpenter, it would mutilate its own nature, fail anyway, and end up chopped down.
• The Effortless Approach (Wu Wei): Wu wei is the practice of aligning with your true, unadorned nature. By relaxing into its own crookedness, the tree acts effortlessly just by existing. It fulfills its ultimate cosmic purpose without breaking a sweat.

2. The Shift in "Usefulness"

Everything has a use - whether popular or unpopular. Zhuangzi plays with this paradox: the "uselessness" of the tree to the world is exactly what makes it "useful" to itself.

When you stop forcing yourself to be "useful" according to societal metrics (wealth, status, rigid conformity), you cultivate what Daoists call the Great Usefulness of Uselessness. You become free to grow in the direction that your true nature dictates, rather than the direction the market or your ego demands.

The Mirror in Buddhism

This aligns seamlessly with the Buddhist concepts we discussed earlier. Trying to force yourself to be an idealized version of an ego-self is a form of Taṇhā (craving/grasping) that generates endless suffering. When you let go of that straining and accept the fluid reality of who you are right now, you step right into the ease of the stream.

When society looks at the tree and labels it "useless," they are looking through a narrow lens of human exploitation and transaction - if it cannot be cut down, sold, or turned into a table, they think it has no value.

The truth: the tree’s "uselessness" to the carpenter is exactly what allows it to be infinitely useful to the entire ecosystem.

By simply standing still and being exactly what it is without forcing a change, the tree naturally creates space for a whole world of life:

• For you: It provides cool, effortless shade.

• For the animals: It provides a safe sanctuary to live, rest, and forage.

• For the universe: It fulfills its perfect cosmic function.

This is Wu Wei in its Absolute Purest Form

This is exactly why Laozi wrote in Chapter 37 of the Daodejing, "The Dao never acts, yet nothing is left undone".

The tree is not trying to be a hero. It isn't straining to grow leaves, it isn't anxiously calculating how many birds it can save, and it isn't trying to prove its worth to the world. It is simply practicing wu wei—resting in its own nature. Yet, because it stays true to itself, everything that needs to get done for the surrounding ecosystem happens naturally and effortlessly.

The Lesson for Us

When we apply the insight to human life, the message is incredibly liberating: You do not need to alter your fundamental nature or exhaust yourself trying to fit into society's definition of "productivity" or "usefulness" to have value.

Often, when you stop forcing yourself to be something you are not, you naturally become a source of comfort, shade, and peace for the people around you. Just by being authentic and at ease in your own skin, you quietly heal the world around you without even trying.

This realization beautifully bridges the Daoist idea of nature's harmony with the Buddhist concept of interconnectedness (Pratītyasamutpāda) - the idea that we all thrive because we are woven together. 

The Parable of The Mind Is A Mirror 

Zhuangzi's famous teaching, "The Perfect Man uses his mind like a mirror," is from Chapter 7 of the Zhuangzi.

It is the final, crowning concept of the Inner Chapters - the core seven chapters written by Zhuangzi himself.

The Original Quote:

"Be empty, that is all. The Perfect Man uses his mind like a mirror - going after nothing, welcoming nothing, responding but not storing. Therefore, he can win out over things and not hurt himself."

Tsai Chih-Chung usually draws a beautiful visual for this: a person standing calmly while a mirror perfectly reflects whatever passes in front of it—a bird flying by, a person walking past—showing that the mirror doesn't grab onto the image, try to stop it from leaving, or get dirty from what it reflects.

By linking Zhuangzi’s mirror to the Buddha's framework of insight, you are tracing the exact path of mindfulness (Satipatthana).

Here is how you can seamlessly map your step-by-step insight onto the mirror metaphor:

1. The Mirror Illustrates the First Noble Truth & Impermanence (Anicca)

• The Concept: The First Noble Truth states that life involves Dukkha (suffering/unsatisfactoriness), which is caused by our resistance to impermanence.

• The Mirror Connection: Images constantly appear in a mirror and then disappear. A bird flies past, a storm clouds over, a bright sun shines. The mirror doesn't try to freeze the beautiful images or push away the ugly ones. It lets them pass. Suffering arises when our minds do the opposite: we try to grab the good images and banish the bad ones.

2. The Mirror Illustrates Dependent Origination (Pratītyasamutpāda)

• The Concept: Things do not exist independently; they arise only when conditions are right.

• The Mirror Connection: A mirror is inherently empty. An image of a flower only appears in the mirror because a physical flower, light, and the mirror's surface come together. When the conditions change (the flower is moved), the image vanishes. Your mind is the same: emotions like anger or anxiety are not "you"—they are just reflections arising due to temporary conditions.

3. The Mirror Illustrates Senses, Awareness, and Reality as Experience

• The Concept: The Buddha teaches that our reality is formed at the "sense gates" (seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, touching, thinking).

• The Mirror Connection: The mirror represents the pure, non-judgmental awareness  of Reality. When a reflection appears, the mirror doesn't label it "good" or "bad." It just reflects it perfectly. This is the goal of Buddhist mindfulness: witnessing your senses and thoughts operating in real-time without adding a layer of personal commentary or ego. These layers are the "baggage" you create and are keeping in your present and future Self. The experience that caused those emotional layers has already past (Impermanence).

This layering is creating Your "Self". If you reflect on "your self", you will find it's made up of all our memories, all our commentaries ("he was mean to me", "I won't forgive him"...).

4. The Ultimate Goal: Observing and Letting Go

• The Concept: The Buddha taught us to observe the mind to achieve detachment and peace.

• The Mirror Connection: As Zhuangzi said, the mirror "goes after nothing, welcomes nothing, responds but does not store." When you observe a painful emotion or a joyful thought like a mirror, you don't absorb it or store it as baggage. You remain unhurt, clear, and perfectly at peace. This is the exact point where Buddhist equanimity (Upekkhā) and Daoist wu wei become the same thing.

The Bonus Connection: The Stoics!

In Stoicism, Marcus Aurelius used this exact same concept in his journal "Meditations". He wrote about protecting the "ruling center" of the mind, keeping it objective and unbothered by external chaos. The Stoics called this Apatheia (freedom from irrational passions) - observing external events clearly but refusing to let them disrupt your internal tranquility.

Demystifying "Wu Wei" (无为)

 

Some ask: "Wu Wei - Action without action... are you just being lazy?"

Wu wei does not mean "doing nothing". It means "Effortless Action" or "Non-Forcing." It’s like a surfer riding a wave: they are moving incredibly fast and acting intensely, but they aren't fighting the ocean; they are flowing with it.

Part 1: Laozi’s Way — The Poetry of Water 🌊

Laozi teaches wu wei as a cosmic principle of alignment and yielding. He focuses on how nature accomplishes everything without over-efforting.

• The Teaching: From Daodejing Chapter 37: "The Dao never acts, yet nothing is left undone." Laozi tells us to look at water—it flows effortlessly around obstacles, never confronts them head-on, yet it eventually wears down the hardest stone.

Wu wei is stopping the ego-driven strain. It's stopping yourself from pushing a plan that your current circumstances are clearly rejecting.

Part 2: Zhuangzi’s Way — The Joy of the "Flow State" 🔪

Zhuangzi takes Laozi’s heavy philosophy and turns it into psychological practice using everyday craftsmen. For him, wu wei is total immersion in a skill.

• The Teaching: The story of Cook Ding (The Master Butcher) from Chapter 3. Ding doesn't hack violently at bones like an amateur; he glides his blade through the natural spaces between the joints where there is zero resistance. His mind is so quiet that his body moves like a dance.

Tsai's comic strip of the Useless Tree show how yielding saves your life.

Wu wei is what modern psychology calls being "in the zone" or in a "flow state." When your ego disappears, your natural talent handles the situation seamlessly.
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Part 3: The Buddha’s Way — The Quiet Stream-Entry 🍃

While the Buddha didn't use the Chinese word wu wei in ancient India, his teachings on Upekkhā (Equanimity) and Asaṅkhata (The Unconditioned) are the spiritual twins of Daoist effortless action.

• The Teaching: The Buddha taught that our suffering comes from Taṇhā (grasping/craving)—constantly straining to force the universe to please our ego. Wu wei in Buddhism is entering the Stream (Sotapatti). Once you realize that the "ego" is an illusion, you stop violently resisting life. You don't "force" yourself to be a saint; your compassion and mindfulness begin to flow out of you naturally.

To the Buddha, wu wei is planting the seeds, watering the soil, and letting the crop grow on its own timeline. It's realizing that true freedom comes when you stop screaming at reality to change.

Conclusion: The Grand Synthesis

Practicing wu wei isn't an excuse to stay in bed all day playing video games.

It means that whether they are parenting, managing a team, or dealing with a crisis, you can choose to do it like Laozi's water (yielding), Zhuangzi's Cook Ding (focused and spontaneous), or the Buddha's stream-enterer (free from ego-driven anxiety).