In Legge's 1891 translation, the parentheses mark words he supplied, so even making the water clear has had a little help getting into English. The water is going to clear by itself if you leave it alone. By breakfast, you've reopened a decision twice, say the one about the car, and the same reasons have changed places without making anything clearer. Nothing new has arrived; you've just picked it up again. Leave that decision closed until noon, and give it one look then.
Who can (make) the muddy water (clear)? Let it be still, and it will gradually become clear.
An old Buddhist text has a monk threaten to give up training unless the Buddha answers his big questions: whether the world is eternal, whether the soul and the body are the same thing, what follows death. The reply is a story: a man wounded by a poisoned arrow won't let the surgeon remove it without a full account of the archer. He needs the name and family, the height, the village the archer came from. He's asking about that village with the arrow still in him. He'd die before he got his answers, and the monk could get every answer he asked for and still be suffering. Suffering is the wound the Buddha says he's there to treat. The wounded man's trouble is the wait: he wants the arrow's whole history before anyone treats him. Your version is smaller. An aching back or a credit card balance can sit untreated for weeks while you work out when it began and why it keeps coming back. Whatever's hurting this morning, do the bit of the treatment you already know, the pill or the minimum payment, and let the history wait.
Before · Day 85 · Secular
Because it was yours.
You dismiss an idea because it's yours, the American writer Ralph Waldo Emerson says in an 1841 essay, then admire it when somebody else says it. You recognize it, but now it has what he calls "alienated majesty," something like your own thought looking grand because it belongs to someone else. That's a fancy name for hearing your own idea from your brother-in-law. Emerson's warning is that if you keep dropping your own thoughts, someone else will say them tomorrow, and you'll have to take your own opinion back from them, and feel ashamed doing it. Say you had an idea in the shower about doing Saturday differently, and you're already halfway to dropping it. Saying it yourself, while it's still rough, is how it stays yours. Over breakfast this morning, tell whoever's at the table one idea you were about to drop, before you decide it's too ordinary to mention.
The pot pours once a day.
Tomorrow arrives in the morning. One teaching, under a minute, free.