The world belongs to those who let go.
LAO TZU
tao on
A Guide to Living a 21st Century Taoist Life
Each of us was born to be happy, at peace with our lives, fully living each moment as our unique, perfectly imperfect self, calmly greeting each new day with hope and gratitude, no matter what hand life has dealt us. Does that sound far from where you are right now? It doesn't have to! Happiness has little to do what life has given you or not given you and everything to do with your perception of yourself, your life, and life in general.
You can change your life to one of peace, hope and self-acceptance faster than you realize simply by learning about the Tao, relinquishing the need to control your life and letting the ideas of Taoism guide your thoughts and choices.
Though Taoism is many things, including a religion and a potentially complicated philosophy, Tao On focuses on understanding the essence of Taoism and how applying this essence to our daily lives can lead us to deeper fulfillment and peace. Though intellectual discussion about Lao Tzu's words can be helpful and illuminating, one of Lao Tzu's key messages is that by living the simple truths of the Tao, not using ours mind and words to understand them with impeccable precision, the Tao is able to flow more freely through us. That is the aim of this site.
key taoist principles
We begin to live a Taoist life when we learn some of the key principles of Taoism, embrace them, and let them start guiding the way we live. The more we embrace these principles, the more profoundly we allow the Tao to reshape our lives. Nowhere in the Tao Te Ching does Lao Tzu just state any of these principles; he suggests many ideas, and these are just of a few of what I see as his core teachings. Click on each principle to explore it in more depth.
Though no life is without challenge, most of us already have nearly everything we need to live with contentment—perhaps even joy. The key is not in having more, but in seeing clearly. When we begin to accept ourselves, our lives, and others without condition, a quiet sense of sufficiency arises. The belief that we—or our circumstances—are not enough is rarely born from truth. More often, it is a product of cultural noise: messages that urge striving, comparison, and discontent. But these voices run counter to the Tao. The Tao shows us that wholeness is not something to chase; it is something we uncover when we return to the simplicity of what is.
what is taoism?
Taoism is rooted in the belief that the Tao—the natural order underlying all of existence—guides life effortlessly, like a river flowing to the sea. It offers a path to well-being not through striving or control, but by aligning ourselves with these timeless patterns, rather than relying on our limited, culturally conditioned ways of thinking.
Taoism emerged in ancient China as people sought a more harmonious way to live. Around 600 BCE, a sage named Lao Tzu gathered these insights into a brief but profound text known as the Tao Te Ching. Though its teachings are simple in form, they are spiritual in essence—expressed through poetic metaphors and layered paradoxes. The Tao Te Ching can feel elusive, especially when approached with a strictly analytical mind. But this is one of Lao Tzu’s core messages: the Tao is not something to be grasped by logic alone. It must be felt.
The Tao is like music. You can describe a song in technical detail, but until you hear it, you don’t truly know it. So it is with the Tao—you can speak of it, study it, even teach it, but to understand it, you must experience its flow within your own life.
Taoism vs.
Modern Values
How does Taoism differ from the way most modern adults live their lives? Click here to find out . . .
The Tao flows effortlessly through all things, including our lives. Often, the wisest course is simply to move with it—to release resistance and go with the flow. This is wu wei—action without force, doing without striving. When we become convinced that we alone must control the outcome, or when we cling tightly to expectations and fixed results, we step out of harmony with the Tao. Ironically, the harder we try to force life, the less progress we make. But when we soften, when we let go and trust the unfolding, life begins to carry us. The path clears, the right actions arise, and what once felt tangled begins to unwind.
It may seem strange at first, but in surrendering control, we often find things work out better than we ever could have planned.
Nature is the Tao made visible. In its rhythms and silences, its rising winds and falling leaves, we glimpse the Way in motion. When we dwell among trees, rivers, and open sky, we begin to remember something ancient—an ease, a quiet strength. The more we observe the natural world, the more we come to understand the Tao, not through words, but through its simple and beautiful, and sometimes chaotic, order. Nature does not strive, yet all is accomplished.
All that we need to know—about ourselves, about how to live—can be found by listening within. Long before books and teachers and doctrines, human beings walked the Way guided by something quiet and true inside them. Though outer guides may offer insight, the deepest knowing does not come from without. It rises from the still waters of the heart. Each of us was born with the power to see clearly, to sense the next right step. The Tao does not shout—it whispers, softly, through the voice within.
The modern world tells us we must rise, strive, and outshine—to carve our place through self-promotion and restless ambition. But the Tao whispers another way. It is the wellspring beneath all things, the silent provider. When we release the illusion of better and worse, when we no longer seek to outpace others or prove our worth, the Tao begins to reveal its gifts. What is needed comes unbidden, like water flowing to the low places. And often, what we hunger for is already near—hidden in plain sight, awaiting only our stillness to be seen.
In the modern world, we’re quick to divide life into absolutes—especially when it comes to good and bad. You could likely name all the “good” things in your life and all the “bad” without much thought. But the Tao reminds us that such divisions are illusions. Nothing is purely good or wholly bad; meaning shifts with perception. As Lao Tzu said, “Everything contains at once both light and darkness.”
When we begin to see all things as expressions of differing, yet equally vital energies, something softens in us. We stop resisting life and start honoring its balance. Whether it is assertiveness or stillness, fortune or loss, noise or silence—each has its place, its perfect timing. To live the Tao is to see with new eyes, and in doing so, life itself begins to feel more whole.
In a world overflowing with choices, distractions, and endless opportunities to compare our path to that of others, it’s easy to feel lost or overwhelmed. We are taught to chase the best, the brightest, the most. But the Tao invites us to pause.
Rather than asking what is best, it teaches us to ask: what is essential? Taoism gently guides us to see what truly matters—both in this moment and over the course of a lifetime—and to release what is not. In doing so, we clear space for peace, clarity, and quiet joy to arise. Simplicity is not lack—it is alignment. And when we align with the Tao, life becomes lighter, more fluid, and surprisingly full.
In the Way of the Tao, only one moment truly matters: this one. The present is where life unfolds—where laughter rises, where we often find solutions to creative or life challenges, where the warmth of the sun brushes our cheeks. Everything that has come before has carried us here, to this moment. And here is enough.
When we dwell in the past—replaying regrets or clinging to old stories—we overlook the beauty unfolding now. And when we project ourselves into the future, trying to shape what cannot yet be touched, we trade today’s peace for tomorrow’s illusion.
The Tao invites us to return again and again, to this breath, this heartbeat, this moment. Through gentle awareness and quiet practice, we learn to root ourselves in the present. And as we do, anxiety softens, sorrow lightens, and something deeper begins to shine through—our truest self, alive and whole in the now.