Lao Tzu was an ancient Chinese philosopher and sage, believed to have lived around
the 6th century BCE. He’s most famous for writing the Tao Te Ching—a small,
poetic book that’s had a huge influence all over the world. He’s credited as the founder of Taoism,
a philosophy that teaches us how to live in harmony with the natural flow of life.
Taoism isn’t about rigid rules or strict beliefs.
It’s about learning to flow with life, instead of fighting against it.
At the heart of Taoism is the idea of the Tao—which means “the Way.” The Tao is the
natural flow of the universe. It’s the way rivers move, the way seasons change,
the way everything in nature works together, effortlessly and without force.
Lao Tzu saw that the more we try to control life—by clinging to outcomes, resisting change,
or chasing things that aren’t meant for us—the more we create stress and struggle.
So he taught a different way: to let go, to trust the flow, and to act when the time
is right. This is where wu wei comes in. Wu wei means “effortless action”—not inaction,
but action that flows naturally, like water. Water doesn’t fight obstacles—it flows around them. It
nourishes everything in its path, and it finds the easiest way forward without pushing or forcing.
When we stop trying to force life, we create space for things to happen naturally.
We stop wasting energy chasing what’s not meant for us. We find peace in the present moment,
and we begin to trust that life has its own timing—and often, it’s even better than we
imagined. That’s the timeless wisdom of Lao Tzu—and it’s still just as powerful today as
it was over 2,500 years ago. So in this video, we’re going to explore Why Forcing Life Never
Works And What to Do Instead —all through the gentle, wise perspective of Taoism.
Slow Down and Observe
Lao Tsu says “Do you have the patience to wait till your mud settles and the
water is clear? Can you remain unmoving till the right action arises by itself?”
Lao Tzu advises us that “before we act, we must first learn to see”. And to see clearly,
we have to slow down. Most of the time, we’re rushing through life. One task after another,
one conversation to the next. We react before we even know what we’re reacting
to. Someone says something, and we snap. An email comes in,
and we reply instantly. We feel something—a flicker of annoyance, a twinge of fear—and
we let it drive our next move. But what if, before we did any of that, we simply paused?
OK, Imagine this: you’re in a meeting at work. Someone critiques your project that you’ve put
hours and hours into — says it could have been handled better, more efficiently, pointing
out every little mistake. Immediately, you feel your chest tighten. Your mind races: They don’t
respect my work. They’re attacking me. This is unfair. Before you even think, you cut them off:
“That’s not true—I did my best, and you didn’t even give clear instructions!” The tone escalates.
They defend their point, you defend yours. The whole meeting becomes tense, and you leave feeling
angry, misunderstood, and frustrated. Later, you replay the moment in your head, getting more,
and more, and more upset. The day feels heavy, and you carry that energy into your other tasks.
This is what happens when we act on impulse, on emotion, without seeing the full picture.
Now let’s try the same moment, with a different approach. Same situation: you’re in the meeting,
and someone critiques your project. Your first instinct is the same: the same tension in your
chest, the same urge to defend yourself. But this time, you pause. You feel the tightness,
you hear the critique, but you breathe. You think: Okay, they’re sharing their
perspective. It’s not personal, even if it feels that way. Let me listen fully before
responding. You stay quiet for a moment, then say calmly: “I appreciate the feedback.
Can you help me understand what you’d like done differently?” This then shifts the conversation...
The other person clarifies their points, and you stay engaged, without feeling the need to defend
yourself. You leave the meeting with a sense of understanding, and maybe even an opportunity for
growth. The tension dissipates, and you carry a lighter energy into the rest of your day.
That small pause—that moment of awareness—creates space. And in that space, you have a choice.
Slowing down isn’t about stopping everything or overthinking. It’s about stepping back from the
impulse to react immediately and giving yourself room to respond with a clear,
steady mind. Think of it like a deep breath for your thoughts—allowing them to settle,
so you can see the situation more fully. When you’re not rushing to react, you can ask: Is this
really true? What’s actually happening here? What might I notice if I don’t jump to conclusions?
Slowing down is about doing less so you can do what matters most, and do it well.
It’s noticing what’s happening around you and within you—like the sound of a voice,
the feeling of your feet on the ground, the air moving in and out of your lungs, or that
flicker of emotion that just passed through. This simple act of paying attention changes everything.
When you’re calm, your actions don’t come from stress or habit, but from a clear, steady
presence. As the Taoists say, stillness is the root of action. When you’re quiet enough to see,
listen, and feel, you act with more wisdom, speak with more purpose, and respond with kindness.
So the next time you feel the urge to react,
just pause. Take a breath. Notice the moment—the sounds, the energy,
the air around you. Let it all settle. And from that quiet, grounded place, take your next step.
2. Let Go of Control In the words of Lao Tzu, “By
letting it go, it all gets done. The world is won by those who let it go. But when you try and try,
the world is beyond the winning.” According to Taoism: the more you
try to force life to go your way, the harder it becomes. Think about holding a handful of
sand—grip it too tightly, and it slips right through your fingers. The same happens when you
try to control every detail—your career, your relationships, how others see you.
The tighter you hold on, the more you lose. We’re taught from a young age that success means
pushing harder, planning more, and controlling every little thing. We believe that if we just
try hard enough, we can make life bend to our will. So we cling—forcing relationships to work,
stressing over jobs, trying to manage everything perfectly. `But here’s the truth:
the more you cling, the more life resists. The pressure builds, frustration grows,
and the very thing you want slips away. This is the trap of over-controlling—making life
far more difficult than it actually needs to be. But let’s be clear: letting go doesn’t mean you
give up. It’s not sitting back or being lazy. It’s about doing your part—taking
action where you can—while releasing the need to control everything else.
So what exactly should you stop trying to control? Well, firstly… The outcome of your efforts.
You can give your best, but the result isn’t always up to you.
Then there’s Other people’s feelings and choices. You can’t make someone
love you or act the way you want. Plus, The timing of life. Things happen
when they’re ready, not when you demand them to. And critically, Change itself. Life is always
shifting, and resisting it only creates suffering. Say you’re texting someone you like. They don’t
reply quickly, and suddenly your mind spirals—Are they losing interest? Should I text again? You
feel the urge to control the situation. But what if you let it go? What if you trust that
if they’re the right person, they’ll come around? If they don’t, maybe they weren’t
meant for you—and that’s okay too. So here’s something to try:
the next time you feel yourself gripping too tightly—whether it’s over a person,
a plan, or your future—pause and ask yourself: What’s the worst that could happen if I let go?
And then: What might open up if I do?
For example, imagine you’re waiting for a reply to an important message—maybe from someone you like,
or a potential job opportunity. You feel the urge to follow up, check in, or double-text.
You’re worried: What if they forget? What if they’re not interested? What if I miss out?
So you pause and ask: What’s the worst that could happen if I let go?
Maybe the person doesn’t reply. Maybe the job doesn’t come through.
That might sting, but you’ll still be okay. Now ask: What might open up if I do let go?
You might free yourself from endless worrying. You might show confidence and self-respect by not
chasing or forcing things. And maybe, by giving them space, the other person feels more drawn to
respond. Or perhaps, if they don’t reply, it opens up space for someone or something better to come
your way. Often, when you stop forcing things, they end up working out better than you expected.
So relax your grip, trust the process, and let your life carry you where you’re meant to go.
3. Act in Harmony with the Situation According to Lao Tzu, “When nothing
is done, nothing is left undone.” When a problem comes up or something
unexpected happens, we immediately react. We rush in, trying to fix it,
control it, or make it go the way we want. But often, this only makes things worse.
We try to force a solution too soon, or we take action that doesn’t fit the situation. It’s like
pushing a door that needs to be pulled—you’re working hard, but it’s the wrong kind of effort.
Taoism teaches a different way: Instead of forcing things, let your
actions arise naturally from the situation. Don’t push. Don’t rush. Don’t fight what’s happening.
Pause. Notice. Then ask yourself: What is the natural next step here?
What’s the most simple, natural thing I could do in this moment—not what I think I should do,
not what I want to do, but what the moment is asking for.
Think of it like this: Imagine a leaf floating
on a river. It doesn’t try to swim upstream. It doesn’t argue with the current. It moves
along with the flow of the water—sometimes fast, sometimes slow. It responds to what the river
is doing. That’s how we can approach life. Let’s make it more real with some examples:
If you’re having a conversation with someone and they seem upset, you might feel the urge
to defend yourself to prove a point. But maybe the situation is asking for you to
listen instead of talk. The natural next step might be to stay quiet and give them space.
If you’re working on a project and you feel stuck, your instinct might be to keep pushing
and pushing. But maybe the moment is asking you to step back, take a break, or rethink your approach.
If someone cancels plans, instead of texting them five times or overthinking what it means,
maybe the best thing is to let it go and see what happens.
It’s about responding, not reacting. Reacting means you jump in without
thinking—often out of fear, frustration, or habit. Responding means you take a
moment and ask yourself. What is the natural next step here?
Then do just that. This way you will feel the situation, see it clearly,
and then act in a way that fits. Sometimes the situation calls for action—so you act.
Sometimes it calls for patience—so you wait. This way of living is about flowing with life,
not fighting it. You don’t stop acting—you act at the right time, in the right way.
4. Don’t Chase To quote
Lao Tzu "He who rushes ahead doesn’t go far." You want something—a new job, a relationship,
an opportunity—and you start chasing it. You hustle, you try hard, you overthink. You reach
out, follow up, and sometimes, you even push people away because your energy feels desperate.
But Taoism, teaches something different: You don’t have to chase after everything.
You don’t have to run after opportunities, people, or results.
You can relax into life—and let the good things come to you, in their own time.
OK, classic example: You’re looking for a job. You send out applications, and you want it so badly
that you cannot stop checking your email every five minutes. And after the first few checks,
you start worrying: Did they get my resume?
Should I send a follow-up? What if I don’t get it?
You might even feel the urge to chase after every lead, even the ones that don’t feel quite right.
But what if you shifted your energy? What if you did your part—applied to
the jobs you truly feel aligned with—and then let go? What if you trusted that the right opportunity
will come to you when the timing is right? Or think about dating.
You’re interested in someone, and you feel the need to text again and again,
to make plans, to chase their attention. But sometimes, that energy pushes people away.
What if you just relaxed? Showed interest, yes—but gave them space to come toward you? If it’s meant
to happen, it will. If not, you’ll still be okay. This is the balance:
Be available, but not desperate. Do your part, take action when it’s natural,
but don’t overreach. Don’t try to force
life to happen on your timeline. That’s the energy you want to cultivate:
rooted, calm, present—not chasing, but open to receiving. Next time you feel
that urge to chase—whether it’s an opportunity, a person, or a result—pause and ask yourself:
Am I forcing this? What would it feel like
to relax and trust instead? Spring doesn’t rush. The
flowers bloom when it’s time. The fruits ripen when they’re ready.
You can’t force an apple to grow faster. You can only plant the seed, water it,
and wait. That’s the wisdom of wu wei—letting life come to you, rather than chasing it down.
5. Align Desire with Reality Lao Tzu once wrote "Those who flow
as life flows know they need no other force." It’s human to want things. You want love.
You want success. You want happiness. You want life to go a certain way.
There’s nothing wrong with that—desire is part of being alive. But here’s where the problem starts:
When your desire clashes with what’s actually happening right now.
When you’re stuck wanting something to happen a certain way, at a certain time,
and life doesn’t match up - that’s where suffering is born. You suffer not because life is unfair,
but because your mind is fighting reality. For example:
You want a relationship to move faster, but the other person needs more time.
You want a promotion now, but the timing isn’t right.
You want life to be different, but it’s not. You feel torn—pulled between what you
wish was happening, and what actually is. And this inner tug-of-war drains your energy,
clouds your mind, and leaves you feeling stuck. Here’s the wisdom of Taoism:
Align your desires with reality. Desire less of what isn’t
happening. Desire more of what is. Let’s say you’re in a job that isn’t
your dream role. Instead of spending all your energy wishing you were somewhere else,
can you look at what’s actually here, now? What opportunities are
unfolding right in front of you? What lessons can you learn from this moment?
Can you find gratitude for this experience, even if it’s not perfect?
And to be clear: This doesn’t mean giving up on your goals. It means accepting the present fully
while you move toward the future. Another example:
You’re single, and you want a partner. That’s a natural desire.
But if you’re constantly wishing you were in a relationship, comparing your life to others,
or thinking you’ll only be happy once you find someone—well… Now you’re creating suffering.
Instead, can you desire what is here now? Can you appreciate your freedom, your time, your friends,
your personal growth? Here’s the key question
to ask yourself in these moments: Am I desiring what is not happening—or can I shift
my desire toward what is unfolding right now? When you do this, you reduce inner conflict.
You stop fighting with life, and you begin to flow with it.
It’s like surfing a wave. If you fight the wave, you get tossed around.
But if you ride it, you flow naturally toward where it’s going.
6. Adapt Like Water Lao Tzu considered
that "The highest good is like water. Water gives life to the ten thousand things
and does not strive. It flows in places
men reject and so is like the Tao." Water is one of the most powerful forces
in nature—and yet it never forces. It doesn’t push. It doesn’t
struggle. It simply flows. When water meets a rock,
it doesn’t try to break it or fight it. It flows around it, over it, under it—finding
whatever the easiest path forward is. It nourishes everything it touches,
moves gently but steadily, and adapts to whatever shape or space it enters.
This is the wisdom Taoism teaches us: Flow like water.
When you face obstacles in life—challenges, delays, conflicts, disappointments—what do you do?
Many of us tense up, resist, and try to force our way through.
We push against the problem, thinking, “This shouldn’t be happening!”
But the more you resist, the more stuck you feel. It’s like pushing against a wall—you
just tire yourself out. Water shows us a different way:
Instead of fighting the obstacle, find the opening.
Instead of forcing, adapt. So when life throws something
unexpected your way, ask yourself: Where is the opening here?
How can I adjust, rather than resist? For example:
Let’s say you lose a job opportunity you really wanted.
Instead of panicking or thinking, “This isn’t fair!”—you can pause and flow like water.
Maybe there’s another opportunity around the corner, one you hadn’t noticed before.
Maybe this is the moment to rest, learn, or try a different path.
Or imagine you’re in a relationship, and your partner needs space.
Your instinct might be to cling tighter, push for answers, or demand attention.
But water doesn’t cling. It gives space, adapts, and lets things move naturally.
Can you give space, listen deeply, and allow the relationship to unfold without force?
When you learn to flow like water, something magical happens:
You become flexible—able to bend without breaking.
You become resilient—able to recover from setbacks.
And you feel more at peace, because you’re no longer fighting with life.
It doesn’t mean you stop caring or doing your best.
It means you let go of the need to control, and instead trust the natural flow of life.
Next time something feels hard or stuck, pause and ask:
What’s the easiest path forward here? How can I give, adapt, or soften—like water?
Flowing like water doesn’t mean you’re weak. In fact, water shapes mountains, carves valleys,
and sustains life. It’s strong because it’s soft. It endures because it’s flexible.
When you live like this, you’ll find that you move through challenges with more ease, grace,
and calm—and life becomes much more beautiful.
7. Practice Detachment from Results
In our final quote from Lao Tzu for this video, he says “Do your work,
then step back. The only path to serenity.” This is the heart of wu wei—to act without
clinging, to give your best effort but then let go of the outcome.
Most of us struggle with this. We put so much pressure on ourselves to get the result we want:
You study hard, so you have to get the top grade. You apply for the job, so you must get the offer.
You go on a date, so you need them to like you. When you become attached to the result,
your mind starts to spiral: What if it doesn’t work out?
What if I fail? What if they don’t like me?
This attachment creates tension. It makes you anxious, frustrated, and fearful.
And ironically, the tighter you cling to the outcome, the more you can get in your own way.
Taoism teaches us a different approach: Give your best, then release your grip.
Think of it like planting a seed. You prepare the soil, water it,
and make sure it gets sunlight. That’s your part. But you can’t force the seed to sprout. You can’t
tug on the leaves to make them grow faster. You just have to wait, let nature take
its course, and trust that the plant will grow in its own time.
And so the same with life. You can prepare, show up,
and give your full effort. But once you’ve acted, the result is out of your hands.
Say, for example you’re working on a big project for your job.
You do your best—plan carefully, put in the hours, and deliver it on time. But then… you
get feedback that your work wasn’t chosen, or the client decides to go in a different direction.
It’s natural to feel disappointed, but what if you chose to let go of that attachment and say:
“I gave my best, and that’s enough.”
Or imagine asking someone out. You express your feelings honestly,
but they don’t feel the same way. Can you let go of the need for a
certain outcome and trust that if it’s not this, something else will come?
What if you were to let go of the need for a certain outcome and trust that if their
feelings aren’t what you were hoping, there was no opportunity to lose in the first place?
Detachment from results doesn’t mean you stop caring.
It means you care deeply about your actions—your input, your effort,
your presence—but you don’t tie your sense of self-worth or happiness to what happens after.
You let the river of life carry things where they’re meant to go.
Here’s a simple technique you can practice: Next time you finish a task, say to yourself:
“I did my part. Now I release the outcome.” Remind yourself:
You are not your results. Success or failure doesn’t define you.
What matters is that you showed up, did your best, and let life unfold.
This is the essence of wu wei: Act with care, but don’t cling to the fruits. So act with love,
let go of control, and trust the process. That’s the way of the Tao.
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