Lao Tzu – The Art of Not Trying

This episode of After Skool was written by Einzelgänger.

Those who stand on tiptoes do not stand firmly; those who rush ahead don’t get very far. Those who try to outshine others dim their own light. Taoists have long observed that humans often act in counterproductive ways. We frequently force things only to discover that our efforts backfire. We try to improve the world, but altering the natural way can cause many new problems. Often, the more we strive for something, the more we seem to drift away from it.

We may wish to impress someone we’re attracted to, but for some reason, the more we try, the less we succeed. Or we might be about to deliver a speech we’ve rehearsed over a hundred times, and even though we know it inside out, we may still falter. In such cases, our knowledge and abilities aren’t the problem; we know enough and have practiced sufficiently. The issue arises when we get in our own way. It’s the mind that tries too hard to control the situation, analyze, and intellectualize, which can sabotage our efforts.

A curious Taoist sage, Lao Tzu, was aware of the human tendency to become so lost in intellectual pursuits that we forget the natural way, forcing and striving against the current, sometimes ending up further from our goals than when we started. So, what if we stopped trying so hard and found a different, more effortless way of getting things done? This video explores Lao Tzu and the art of not trying.

Lao Tzu is the most well-known Taoist sage, although there is no proof that he ever lived. If he did, it would have been around the fifth or sixth century BC, making him a contemporary of Confucius. Nevertheless, the legendary Chinese philosopher wrote a masterpiece called the Tao Te Ching, which many consider the primary Taoist scripture. The Tao Te Ching is a mysterious work; there is no consensus on when it was written, and the existence of its author remains disputed. However, one thing is certain: the profundity of this work has left a lasting mark on humanity.

It’s also worth noting that the Tao Te Ching ranks among the most translated works in world literature. Lao Tzu seems to have written this text as a manual for rulers, focusing on governing people and being a good leader primarily by allowing people to govern themselves. It discusses themes like trust and oppression, moderation and excess, humility and pride—qualities that can make or break you as a ruler and as a human.

Lao Tzu speaks of the value of trusting instead of trying to control everyone and everything, taking a lower position instead of trying to dominate, and being flexible instead of rigid. In short, he makes his message clear in poetic phrases. For example, he wrote, “Those who are stiff and rigid are the disciples of death; those who are soft and yielding are the disciples of life. The rigid and stiff will be broken; the soft and yielding will overcome.”

At the heart of his teachings lies a pivotal concept: the mysterious, all-encompassing force called the Tao. The essence of Taoist philosophy is living in harmony with the Tao, also called “the way.” So, what is the Tao? Lao Tzu clarifies that we cannot know the Tao, at least not intellectually. Our understanding of it only goes as far as the limitations of our perception; the true nature of the Tao remains a mystery. Moreover, according to Lao Tzu, the Tao we speak of isn’t the real Tao. Hence, the famous opening of his work states, “The Tao that can be described is not the eternal Tao; the name that can be spoken is not the eternal name.”

If the true Tao always eludes us, what can we actually know about it? Taoist philosophers emphasize that the true Tao is an overarching force beyond our comprehension, which the senses cannot perceive. The Tao drives everything and governs the universe; it’s behind all we perceive, doing its work, never rushing, always getting things done. It’s a force of immense depth; we can’t control it; we can only move with it or against it. Living in harmony with the Tao is the ultimate goal of a Taoist sage.

But how does one achieve this? Lao Tzu doesn’t provide a practical guide on living in agreement with the Tao. However, his lyrical writings contain many clues that point to achieving stillness of mind, being receptive instead of controlling, and a curious concept known as “non-action” or “effortless action.” The latter is paradoxical, as “not acting” and “not doing” imply passivity. But from a Taoist viewpoint, that’s not the case at all. According to Lao Tzu, for those who practice “not doing,” everything falls into place.

So, how can we achieve something by “not doing”? How can we act effortlessly and still get everything done? The answer is Wu-Wei. The Chinese concept of Wu-Wei, or not doing, is central to Taoism. It can be translated as non-action, effortless action, or the paradoxical action of non-action. Wu-Wei is multifaceted; there are different forms of non-action. Lao Tzu teaches softness over hardness, allowing over forcing, and flowing along over striving. He encourages us to stop trying so hard, stop pushing beyond nature’s limits, and use the Tao to our advantage by going along with it instead of fighting it. Practicing Wu-Wei aligns us with the Tao.

Take, for example, the idea of non-intervention. Lao Tzu speaks about this concept, particularly in relation to rulers. Instead of ruling by trying to control and dominate, a ruler should trust and allow as many processes as possible without unnecessary intervention. The world and its people are largely self-governing. If a ruler intervenes too much, they disrupt the natural flow, and things only worsen. We can also see this with overly controlling managers; their efforts may stem from a desire to do well, but their constant meddling is often counterproductive.

Lao Tzu wrote that great leaders lead from a place of non-action; they only act when necessary, trusting in the process and letting nature do its work. Many problems simply solve themselves, and many things fall into place without intervention. Imagine how much time and energy such an attitude saves. Lao Tzu wrote, “Do you want to rule the world and control it? I don’t think it can ever be done. The world is a sacred vessel, and it cannot be controlled. You will only make it worse if you try; it may slip through your fingers and disappear.”

Non-action also shines through when Lao Tzu talks about the futility of fixed knowledge and rigid moral codes. We often try to be good based on predetermined ideas of goodness or achieve success as societal standards dictate. But what are goodness and success, really? Can we speak of definitive concepts of good and evil in a complex and ever-changing universe? Trying to impose good on a world often makes things worse. Alan Watts, a fervent scholar of Taoism, once pointed out that the “goody goodies” of society are often the biggest troublemakers. Their “must save the world” attitude can disrupt the natural course simply because they seek to enforce artificial ideas of good and evil that may not align with the nuanced realities of life.

Another form of Wu-Wei is the idea of effortless action, also called being in the zone, referring to a free-flowing spontaneity during which one merges with the act. Dr. Woei-Lien Chong, a philosopher and sinologist, explains her interpretation in a Dutch book about Taoist philosophy, emphasizing the element of emptiness or openness. She describes the essence of practicing Wu-Wei as follows: “And so the whole practitioner is able to, from the clarity of his egoless center, observe all relevant forces in a certain situation in their being, undistorted, so that he can respond to them flawlessly.”

From this viewpoint, Wu-Wei is not just about letting go and going along with the flow of nature; it’s a much bolder move that requires courage. We must be brave enough to escape our intellectual presence of assumptions, concepts, and categories, and engage with the world as it presents itself. The sage must become what Lao Tzu called an “uncarved block,” a simpler, undistorted state of being. As uncarved blocks, we can engage in what Dr. Woei-Lien Chong describes as the ultimate receptive and responsive way of action, from a crystal clear openness within ourselves, one with the breathing of the cosmos.

So, how does this work in practice? The importance of escaping our intellectual presence is especially true for effortless action in the flow state. We tend to experience intense and focused concentration on the present moment, a loss of reflective self-consciousness, a merging of action and awareness, and even an altered sense of time. It’s like the dancer becomes the dance, the poet the poem, and the singer the song. In his biography, retired professional basketball player Bill Russell wrote, “It was almost as if we were playing in slow motion during those spells. I could almost sense how the next play would develop and where the next shot would be taken.”

How do we reach this flow state? Perhaps a better question is: what stops us from reaching it? Let’s take a look at the word “try” for a moment. To try means making an attempt or effort to do or accomplish something; often, it involves mental strain and pressure behind the act. We may worry about our performance, especially when competing for a prize. We may ruminate about past failures and catastrophize what happens when we mess up. Sometimes, we worry so much about a specific task that we can’t muster the courage to start, even though we have the capabilities to complete it.

Lao Tzu’s idea of returning to the uncarved block makes sense here. If we release ourselves from mental strain and the analysis paralysis that comes with it, we return to a simpler, less contrived state of mind, free from intellectual burdens. We become more flexible and responsive to reality as it unfolds. But don’t just take the old sage’s word for it. One of the leading experts on the flow state is Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, a psychologist and university professor who wrote a bestselling book named “Flow.” Mihaly states that we often hijack the flow state through what he calls “psychic entropy,” a state of inner disorder and chaos in the mind. Instead of being focused, our attention is scattered. Instead of operating in the present moment, we’re all over the place, lingering in the past and worrying about the future. Instead of action and awareness merging, they are apart from each other, separated by information overload. In a state of psychic entropy, generally, not much gets done, and what gets done goes less smoothly.

So again, it’s the mind disrupting the natural flow. The creations of the mind—whether worries, ruminations, concepts, or ideas—seem to be the main reason we don’t act effortlessly. “Mastery of the world is achieved by letting things take their natural course,” wrote Lao Tzu. But of course, letting go of the reins is hard for a controlling mind; it requires trust, and in trust, there is no trying. You either trust or you don’t.

Thank you for watching this episode of After Skool. If you liked this video, please check out Einzelgänger, a channel dedicated to exploring various topics and ideas.