TAOISM | The Art of Not Trying

Taoism’s core message here is that many human efforts backfire because they try to force life into manmade categories—so the path forward is “not trying” in the sense of abandoning coercive striving and returning to the natural flow. The central claim is blunt: attempts to improve the world, chase happiness, or reshape the self often exhaust the body and mind while producing discontent, because the universe is in constant flux and cannot be controlled by rigid rules, moral systems, or fixed definitions.

The argument begins with a critique of counterproductive striving. People “stand on tiptoes” by pushing beyond what is stable, rush ahead without lasting results, and even dim their own light when they try to outshine others. Taoist sages treat many social inventions—rules, ethics, values, and rituals—as well-intentioned but ultimately distancing. Trying to alter what nature has intended is compared to swimming upstream: it’s exhausting and doesn’t get you anywhere. Beneath the changing world lies the Tao, described as an all-encompassing, undefinable force that can be felt and known without being fully comprehended. Human beings, however, try to make the unknowable manageable by naming and categorizing it, which creates an “artifice” that makes life seem understandable while causing people to lose contact with the Tao.

The transcript then targets “trying” itself, distinguishing it from a Taoist mode of action. Wu wei is introduced as “non-doing” or, in flow-state terms, “effortless action.” The key point is that “doing nothing” isn’t emptiness or stagnation; it’s a way of moving with the universe’s motion rather than fighting it. Since the world is in flux and even described as having entropy, progression exists in the natural flow—so the problem isn’t action, but forced action that comes from exhaustion and rigid control.

To make the idea concrete, three modern-looking patterns of trying are examined through Taoist texts. First is trying to improve the world: “must-save-the-world” attitudes can disrupt natural order by enforcing moral supremacy. Communism is used as an example of an ideology rooted in equality that spread through brutality, and a Zhuangzi story about Yen Hui seeking to govern Wei is used to show why outsiders who preach benevolence and righteousness can deepen division rather than heal society.

Second is trying to be happy. The pursuit of money, status, fame, power, or even knowledge is portrayed as a blind alley: it brings momentary pleasure but never the deeper happiness Taoists associate with contentment. A Lao Tzu passage contrasts what the world honors (wealth, eminence, long life, a good name) with what it finds happiness in (ease, rich food, fine clothes, beautiful sights, sweet sounds), arguing that both the poor and the rich “wear themselves out” in fear or frantic accumulation.

Third is trying to be something else—reshaping identity to fit an ideal. A Zhuangzi fable about animals and the wind illustrates envy of other natures, concluding that nothing is inherently better; judgment creates the hierarchy. The transcript then points to social pressures to alter appearance and identity to conform, arguing that such distortion creates imbalance. Practical guidance follows: take the middle path (stay centered and within one’s means), unlearn daily until inner stillness, and practice “fasting of the heart,” a form of non-action where nothing essential is left undone. In that emptiness, contentment becomes true happiness, and the Tao—sometimes framed as God in a theistic reading—can be felt rather than forced into concepts.