The Taoteching has numerous translations, and nearly every single one of them is likely worthy of being read. However, this particular version stands out as my favorite. I cannot vouch for the accuracy of the translation. But having perused so many diverse translations of the same text, I have this peculiar sense that I have somehow grasped the essence of the original. It's as if the blank space that is the Chinese original has been given form and definition by all the English versions that surround it.

Anyway, while I appreciate the spare and sensitive language in this version, what makes it truly extraordinary are the added extras. There is an engagingly detailed introduction that delves into the life of Lao Tzu, an original thesis on the very meaning of "tao", and commentaries appended to each of the 81 entries. These commentaries have been culled from centuries upon centuries of critical analysis by scholars and eccentric mystics alike.

Recently, there has been some scholarship suggesting that instead of meaning "way" or "path", as is commonly understood, "tao" actually refers to the Moon and its various phases and paths in space. Particular emphasis is placed on the darkness of the new moon and its significance as potential in darkness. The new moon "hides" its fullness, which is there in potential, unspent. I find this idea quite appealing. There is something primitively pleasing about it, something real and tangibly mysterious, yet also practical and spiritual. It acts as a connector between the eye and the heart, guiding our feet along a path through some subtle gravitational force.

The commentaries that follow each poem or entry are truly fascinating and only scratch the surface of what I understand to be a vast body of scholarship on this text. The commentaries are often wildly contradictory and tangential, obsessive to an extreme degree, yet at times they are also wise in their own right. These commentaries have been written by official scholars, mendicant monks, and even one or two extreme eccentrics living on the fringes of society, unaffiliated with any institution. At the back of the book are short biographies of each commentator, which makes for fascinating reading in itself. All of this adds up to evidence that this is a living book, with enough clear and direct meaning to be perpetually valid, and enough obscurity to be endlessly pondered.

The translator is an American known as Red Pine. He is almost 70 years old and has been a practicing Buddhist for many years, in a more wandering and independent scholar style similar to Gary Snyder. He has also translated the Diamond Sutra, the poems of Han Shan (Cold Mountain) and Stonehouse, and some other Buddhist texts. In every work of his that I have read, there is evidence of serious scholarship, but also a free spirit and independent thinker with a unique store of fresh air.

The Tao Te Ching is a profound and enigmatic book that defies direct comprehension. Sadly, my experience in reading books indirectly is rather limited, making it a challenging read for me. Moreover, discerning the author's intended message seems even more arduous.

A friend once told me that he believed Heraclitus, the pre-Socratic Greek philosopher, bore some resemblance to Lao Tzu. Heraclitus famously said, "You can't step in the same river twice." He held the view that reality was a fluid state composed of a unity of opposites. I suppose one could conceive of Lao Tzu's "the way" in a similar vein, as a unifying force. I compare it to the ancient Greek concept of substance that underlies all things yet has no independent existence.

The Tao Te Ching appears to imply that action is beneficial, except when inaction is necessary; it is good to approach things with an open mind, but not to become overly attached to a particular perspective on reality, as it may suddenly shift in the opposite direction. In other words, precisely determining what this book is trying to convey is no easy task, especially when it contends that words are inadequate to describe the way; thus, the way is not that which is named as such (and don't worry - I'm equally perplexed by this).

The most valuable aspect of the Tao Te Ching is that the act of reading it stimulates the mind, prompting deep思考 and reflection on various questions. This alone makes the effort worthwhile, even though it may take a lifetime to make some headway in finding answers.

Perhaps it is fitting to turn to a twentieth-century poet and thinker for some Tao-like counsel. Here is a stanza from "Burnt Norton":

At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless;
Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is,
But neither arrest nor movement. And do not call it fixity,
Where past and future are gathered. Neither movement from nor towards,
Neither ascent nor decline. Except for the point, the still point,
There would be no dance, and there is only the dance.
I can only say, there we have been: but I cannot say where.
And I cannot say, how long, for that is to place it in time.

T. S. Eliot, FOUR QUARTETS

Ancient poems are a treasure trove filled with countless interesting elements. There is the pleasure of the silent air, as if it holds secrets waiting to be discovered. The coolness of still water brings a sense of tranquility and calm. The beauty of trees stands as a testament to nature's artistry. The perfume of blossom fills the air with a sweet and enchanting aroma. The riches of emotion pour out from the lines, touching the hearts of readers. And perhaps the most important of all, there is the brightness of wisdom, shining a light on the mysteries of life.

What appears to the readers depends entirely on their ways of interpretation. It is, in my opinion, a law of philosophy. Different people may see different things in the same poem, and that is the beauty of it.

Tao Te Ching, on the other hand, is not for the impatient or unimaginative. Its short and complex nature, along with its sound-like-mad poems, might easily bore some. I don't recommend using it for studying in classes, except perhaps in universities, as it can cause limitations and boredom. However, it can be a wonderful read on a day when you are relieved, alone, and undisturbed by noise. Letting yourself float along with the words, rhythms, and images can be a truly enlightening experience.

From my perspective, the core idea of Tao is a nothingness, but not an emptiness. The world is in constant motion, as are men and all creatures. Everything is a mixture of each other, and the essence is not certain or fixed. It is movable and unending. Tao is in things, but also in none. It appears everywhere and nowhere at the same time. It can be quite puzzling, but that's the beauty of it.

Anyway, I don't want to confuse you with my words. Reading Tao Te Ching can be an eye-opening and mind-expanding experience. It gives you the opportunity to think about things differently than you do in your daily life. My friend once said he thought Lao Tzu had been mad, which is a very humorous and interesting view. You know, it's not wrong to think that way. After all, why couldn't he be a mad man? The pleasure you get from reading it tells you that life is not simple. It's hard to freeze an explanation in one way. Different aspects of observation evaluate the values of democracy and diversity. It also strengthens the mind not to be sensitive to differences, such as different clothes, life styles, and religions. There is nothing that ought to be killed, whether it's for nations, political ideologies, or 'holy guys'. One depends on others, and nothing can be simply torn apart. There is black, and there is also white. Without black, white is impossible. No death, no life. They identify each other, and no one can survive without the other. It's like two parts of one coin. Nothing is excluded, including kings and monks. This is the law.

4.24.19
I have the habit of reading this translation by Sam Torode on my phone every day. Besides, I also have a hard copy of another translation that I will review soon. The simplicity of Torode's translation is what makes it my favorite so far. It aligns perfectly with the Taoist philosophy of simplicity. I'm even considering exploring other works translated by Torode. He has several interesting works out there, such as "The Song of Solomon."

Update: 3.14.18
This is the third translation I've read, and without a doubt, it's my favorite among the three. I have a deep love for this book of philosophy. It offers great common sense and helps to pave new thought patterns that are not typically taught in American culture. These paths lead to peace and sanity. It truly is my favorite book of philosophy.

12 - 13 - 17: This is a great translation that has really helped me understand the text. It's my favorite religious/philosophical book aside from the Christian Bible. It shows a path of peace, contentment, and a subtle, quiet, and manageable power.

Update, 9/15/17:
I found this beautiful quote in my notebook, the only one I wrote down. "Heaven is long-enduring and earth continues long. The reason why heaven and earth are able to endure and continue this long is because they do not live of, or for, themselves. This is how they are able to continue and endure."

----------------------------------

“Heaven is long-enduring and earth continues long. The reason why heaven and earth are able to endure and continue this long is because they do not live of, or for, themselves. This is how they are able to continue and endure.” This profound statement from the Tao Te Ching has always intrigued me. It makes me think about the concept of selflessness and how it can lead to a kind of eternal existence. Heaven and earth, in their vastness and grandeur, do not focus on themselves but rather on the greater whole. This selflessness allows them to endure through the ages.

“Nothingness cannot be defined; the softest thing cannot be snapped.” – Bruce Lee
This quote from Bruce Lee, which stretches across this page above, has become one of my favorites. It reminds me of the power of humility. Humility, like nothingness, is often overlooked or underestimated. It is clothed in the rags of weakness and frailty, yet it holds a superhuman strength within. The Tao Te Ching refers to this as an empty vessel being filled with another power. Bruce Lee based much of his life and work on the Tao Te Ching, and that's why I decided to read it. I admire this amazing and deeply profound piece of religious literature. Its philosophy coincides with my own faith, and I can hear echoes of teachings I've heard in Christianity.

The book teaches, as already mentioned, the power of humility. It also emphasizes the value of things that are considered meaningless, such as empty space. We build houses and form rooms with four walls, but the basis of this structure lies upon the importance of the empty space. Empty space provides the room to live, to breathe, to walk, to make love, to work. It is the emptiness that gives meaning to the fullness.

The author also likens the paradox (and there are many, sometimes frustrating paradoxes, confirming that the understanding can't be grasped in one simple read) to that of the empty space between the spokes of a wheel. The power and mechanics of a wheel depend on the empty space. Without it, the wheel would not function properly.

Thus, we often consider worthless things, abased things, as meaningless. We think that we live life to the fullest when we have what we want, and when we lose it all, we feel that we have no meaning, no purpose, no life. However, the book attempts to explain this balance, the Yin-Yang. The point of the argument concludes with something underlying the whole of existence. One constant, the Tao. I like to think of this, in my personal paradigm of faith, as God. The book says Tao came before the existence of God, which I believe refers to man's interpretation or attempt to understand God. The Tao exists as the fundamental, underlying essence of the universe. Above the Tao, we have the evidence of “life,” the events, the good, the bad, acceptance, rejection, bliss, pain, heaven, hell, male, female – you get it. Under all these events, we also have a soul, eternal and unchanging in nature.

The book has truly changed my perspective. I've recently gone through a divorce, and as I experience grief, the thoughts come: life has no purpose now. Right now, in the present situation, I'm in a low, one side of the Yin-Yang. But if I look back, and as Sarah Mclachlan says, “don't let life pass [me] by; hold on to the memories,” I can see the whole Yin-Yang, the whole balance, the beauty, the essence of life itself. I see a proud mother, her warm, soft hand holding mine as she says, “Lord, we come now to the throne of God.” I see a shriveled woman with tubes in her nostrils taking her final breaths and slurring the words, “My son.” I see triumph as a child pitches a no-hitting season of baseball. I see my mother's tears, and hear her weeping as we came home from my first attempt and fail at college (because of partying). I see a Father who loves me, and plays baseball with me, fishes with me. I see a father choking back tears by my mother's casket. The high, the low. The wave. Up, down, up, down. I see a beautiful lady with sea-blue eyes lying on my chest of happiness. I see a house I'm leaving as I gather my last things, and a baby-dog I'll never see again, crying upstairs because Daddy's going away and he knows I won't return to walk him again.

See it all. See life. See the beauty, the lesson. See the tenderness of a mother deer licking her baby. See the lion chasing and biting the bleeding neck of her prey. See it all. This is life. The wonder, the blessing. Life. We live. We experience. The experiences only flow through a constant medium, us. I believe we exist in a timeless place called soul, and this place holds it all, the good and bad, in memories. We extend from the underlying Principle, the “Tao,” or some call it the Universe, some God. I believe this God has a face and He wants to be seen.

The author points out the paradox of softness. He refers to women as feminine, or weak, but then turns to say that weakness stands stronger than strength, because strength depends on the weakness, as the walls depend on the space for meaning. This shows the complexity and interconnectedness of all things.

He also says that maturity is the end, the death, and Tao has no place with this. When we master something, it ends. A full-grown tree has only to be full-grown, and eventually it will wither. A new tree, on the other hand, has just begun to grow, and it has a softness, and in this potential to grow, most of life abounds, because the process has just begun.

My end becomes a new beginning, always, so long as air feeds oxygen into my lungs and body. Life is a continuous cycle of endings and beginnings, and we must embrace both to truly understand its essence.

The words presented here offer profound insights.

First, we have "کلمه های راست زیبا نیستند
کلمه های زیبا راست نیستند", which in English means "True words are not beautiful.
Beautiful words are not true." This makes us reflect on the nature of language and how often the most honest and straightforward expressions may lack the allure of more flowery language.

Next, "همه چیز ها از بودن به وجود میاد
بودن از نبودن." translates to "All things under the sky come into existence from being.
Being comes from non-being." This philosophical statement delves into the mysteries of creation and the relationship between existence and non-existence.

Finally, "Alle Dinge unter dem Himmel entstehen im Sein
Das Sein entsteht im nicht sein", which is the same as the previous one in German, emphasizes the same concepts from a different language perspective.

Overall, these words encourage us to think deeply about language, truth, and the nature of existence.

I knew Ursula Le Guin had a profound interest in Taoism. One simply has to peruse “The Left Hand of Darkness” (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...), her Earthsea stories (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...), or even “The Dispossessed” (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...) to discern an ever-present underlying theme of balance, of difference and unity – and of compassion.

However, I had no inkling that she had actually penned an English rendition of the “Tao Te Ching” until Saturday. I was aimlessly browsing the Buddhism section of a book store. I didn't even notice it initially; my husband spotted it and handed it to me. Naturally, I purchased it because, as you know, Ursula Le Guin is one of my heroes and two of the aforementioned books have been life-changing for me. If there was any version of the Tao that I was going to read, it was most definitely going to be this one.

I had never read the “Tao Te Ching” before. This is a bit astonishing considering I was raised by hippies, associated with a group of esoterica enthusiasts for years, and have been practicing Soto Zen for a while. But I suppose I was just awaiting the perfect version to fall into my hands (thank you, Jason!).

For each “chapter” in the book, Le Guin appended little notes. She describes them as “idiosyncratic and unscholarly” and entirely her own personal reactions and ideas regarding the text. She states in the introduction that they can be disregarded, but I found that they truly enhanced the depth of my experience with the text, refined the words on the page, and of course, offered me insights into the remarkable lady's mind. Le Guin's turn of phrase is elegant, yet also brimming with humor, and never ponderous.

The text's emphasis on self-mastery, humility, and moderation presents an inspiring and gentle philosophy. While not always directly applicable in the world, it should be carefully contemplated. Much of this, when regarded clearly, is common sense and a sane perspective on living. In the chaotic world we inhabit, we could all utilize that from time to time. This is most definitely the kind of book that benefits from multiple readings, or even simply opening it at a random page in one's leisure. It may be short and quick to read, but it should be digested slowly.

Third time reading it,

and dare I say it: it is extradimensional compared to its western counterparts. What if the law of non-contradiction simply isn't true? Western philosophy is predicated on and has disseminated from that proposition.

This work can be read and applied to any context.

It is truly one to reread for the ages.

It is also one of the proudest Chinese works.

I STRONGLY recommend the Ziporyn translation. He was my prof and is fluent in classical Chinese. He is the best of the best. The Ken Liu translation will also be fun to read next time.

Each reading of this work offers new insights and perspectives. It challenges our preconceived notions and forces us to think outside the box.

Whether you are a student of philosophy, a lover of literature, or simply someone who enjoys exploring new ideas, this work is a must-read.

So, pick up a copy today and start your journey of discovery.

Glory is mine that under the blue wheel
Whatever color it takes on, it is free
(Hafez)

It is enough to close your eyes and the darkness that reigns over all existence is seen. There is no other light or self, and in this nothingness, the whole world is seen, and you are also a part of it. You cannot separate yourself from it. These eyes of yours have stolen you from existence and deprived you of all your being.

Certainly, seeing the transparent world with one's own eyes is the greatest miracle, and we look at the surrounding world every day. But sometimes it is necessary to close our eyes so that we are not distracted from the world. The world is hidden within us, and external factors often disrupt our senses.

The one who looks outside dreams, the one who looks inside is awake.
Carl Gustav Jung

This book is from the collection of martyrdom books, which is also a kind of shrine of Chinese Gnosticism and Taoism. It is a very beautiful and touching wise book, containing the moral points of the sages and the royal strategies, which in a way wants to free us from these prisons and mental chains. The last destination that every human being will reach one day.

Until grace and reason become unknown homelessness/ Let me say one thing, make yourself clear that the truth
Hafez

------

Selected:

The Tao that can be told is not the eternal Tao.
The name that can be named is not the eternal name.
The nameless is the beginning of heaven and earth.
The named is the mother of all things.
Therefore, without desires, one can see the mystery.
With desires, one can only see the manifestations.
The mystery and the manifestations are both from the same source.
This source is called darkness.
Darkness within darkness;
The gate to the world of knowledge

Link to the text of the book:
http://taoteching.blogfa.com/category/1

Read more about Tao
https://fa.wikipedia.org/wiki/%D8%AF...

Concatenated thoughts. Review #1 - #2 ✔

\\n  Things arise and she lets them come;
things disappear and she lets them go.
She has but doesn't possess,
acts but doesn't expect.\\n

The Tao Te Ching is a profound classical text attributed to the Chinese philosopher and writer Lao Tzu (6th century), serving as the foundation of Taoism. Comprising 81 concise chapters in poetic form, it employs a concise language filled with evocative and at times repetitive contradictions to offer guidance on how humanity can establish a harmonious relationship with nature and the Tao. In an inspiringly concise manner, the chapters disclose the sage's fundamental truths encompassing theology to politics, which are inseparable elements of the Tao Te Ching.

I simultaneously perused two editions: Ellen Chen’s The Tao Te Ching: A New Translation with Commentary and Stephen Mitchell’s Tao Te Ching: A New English Version. After delving into chapter 11 of the latter, the merits of each work became particularly evident.

Chen's translation is an accurate wonder. It is the type of translation I favor; as literal as feasible. I desire not only the translator's interpretation but also to know the precise words that traversed the author's mind. I have come to terms with all that is lost in translation, so at least afford me surgical precision.

Conversely, Mitchell adopts a different approach: stripping the verses of all metaphor, he concentrates on the meaning and the thoughts Lao Tzu intended to convey. In that sense, it is a remarkable work; a meticulous examination of all the elements that constitute this treatise. While maintaining a modest degree of literality, it expresses a similar interpretation.

If compelled to choose, I prefer Chen's academic translation with its enriching commentary over Mitchell's version with its still lyrical directness. Even though she generally refers to the sage as a man, whereas Mitchell contends that since we are all, potentially, the Master (since the Master is, essentially, us), I felt it would be untrue to present a male archetype, as other versions have, ironically, done. Ironically, because of all the great world religions the teaching of Lao tzu is by far the most female.

Regarding my experience with this book, I should revisit it in a few years... The dynamics between opposites that both say and don't say, that affirm and deny, that teach without speaking and act without doing; it all begins to become somewhat tiresome after a while. Naturally, I was unable to identify with some notions; my skeptical disposition began to assert control rather promptly. However, The Tao Te Ching encompasses several useful concepts to enhance our fleeting sojourn in this world. Moreover, many of those impressions are directed at politicians. In that regard, this book should be compulsory reading for every single one of them.

I conclude this'review' with some chapters according to the perspectives of each translator. **

#18
When the great Tao is forgotten,
Goodness and pity appear…

Notes:
the great Tao: Jayata said to Vasubandu, “If you have nothing to ask for in your mind, that state of mind is called the Tao”.
goodness and pity appear: When the Tao is forgotten, people act according to rules, not from the heart. This goodness is as insecure as Job's and can be as self-satisfied as Little Jack Horner's. Whereas a good father has no intention of being good; he just acts naturally.

*

#30
Whoever relies on the Tao in governing men
doesn't try to force issues
or defeat enemies by force of arms.
For every force there is a counter force.
Violence, even well intentioned,
always rebounds upon oneself.
The Master does his job and then stops.
He understands that the universe
is forever out of control,
and trying to dominate events
goes against the current of the Tao.
Because he believes in himself,
he doesn’t try to convince others.
Because he is content with himself,
he doesn’t need other’s approval.
Because he accepts himself,
the whole world accepts him.

Notes:
doesn't try to force issues: He lets the issues resolve themselves.
out of control: Out of control of his own, tiny, personal, conscious self.

*

#66
All streams flow to the sea
because it is lower than they are.
Humility gives it its power.

If you want to govern the people,
you must place yourself below them.
If you want to lead the people,
you must learn how to follow them.

The Master is above the people,
and no one feels oppressed.
She goes ahead of the people,
and no one feels manipulated.
The whole world is grateful to her.
Because she competes with no one,
no one can compete with her.

Notes:
The Master is above the people: Not that she feels superior, but that, looking from a higher vantage point, she can see more.
The whole world is grateful to her: Even those who think they are ungrateful.
no one can compete with her: She sees everyone as her equal.

Aug 18, 18
* Also on my blog.
** I shared the same chapters on each review.

I'm an unbeliever, and this stance has been with me ever since the first time I skipped Sunday services and nothing happened, not a peep from the supposed Eye in the Sky. So, it might seem rather odd that I'm now reviewing the Tao Te Ching, that widely known and highly influential Taoist text penned by Lao-Tzu and poetically translated in this particular edition by Stephen Mitchell. For me, the Tao Te Ching is more like a collection of folk wisdom than a religious treatise, and it holds far more practical value than a million sermons combined.

What sets the Tao Te Ching apart from religious attempts at morality, such as the 10 Commandments, is its remarkable inclusiveness. Seven out of the 10 Commandments don't even mention God and instead offer sound advice aimed at facilitating peaceful community relations: respect your elders, don't kill, don't cheat on your spouse, don't steal, don't tell lies, and don't lust after another's spouse or their belongings. However, the tragedy of the Great List, in my view, is that the top three commandments serve only to divide the world into believers and nonbelievers. Regardless of how closely one follows the last seven, if you don't believe in God, you're considered worthless. In this way, the first three create division while the last seven seek harmony. With Taoism, on the other hand, even if you don't believe in the Force-like nature of the Tao—and for the record, I don't—you can still consider yourself a Taoist.

Taoism endeavors to achieve harmony by liberating the individual from the corrosive effects of judgmental thinking, desire, and greed. Its fulcrum lies in the concept of “non-action,” or literally “doing not-doing.” As Mitchell writes in his introduction, non-action is not the act of doing nothing but rather the purest form of action. He uses the analogy, “The game plays the game; the poem writes the poem; we can’t tell the dancer from the dance.”

This slim volume is both a quick read and a profound study. Mitchell’s lyrical rendering of the Tao Te Ching might, to some, seem like silly hippie clichés, but there is far more depth to it than meets the eye. Take chapter 9, for example. A photocopy of this chapter hung on my office corkboard for years. It states: “Fill your cup to the brim and it will spill. Keep sharpening your knife and it will blunt. Chase after money and security and your heart will never unclench. Care about people’s approval and you will be their prisoner.” You can almost envision the hacky sack and smell the patchouli. But there is a profound truth here that, if truly grasped, can transform the way you think.

As chapter 1 so aptly states: “The tao that can be told is not the eternal Tao. The name that can be named is not the eternal Name.” Analogy, therefore, plays a crucial role in understanding the Tao Te Ching, and the reader must do a significant amount of work—the long study part—to fully fathom the book’s richness. Consider chapter 11 in its entirety, where non-action is discussed: “We join spokes together in a wheel, but it is the center hole that makes the wagon move. We shape clay into a pot, but it is the emptiness inside that holds whatever we want. We hammer wood for a house, but it is the inner space that makes it livable. We work with being, but non-being is what we use.”

There is much more to this book than just philosophical abstraction. In fact, common sense pervades the Tao Te Ching. Take these lines, which discuss the roots of crime: “If you overvalue possessions, people begin to steal” (chapter 2) and “If you don’t trust the people, you make them untrustworthy” (chapter 17). Or these, from chapter 38, which describe the toll of illusory thought: “When the Tao is lost, there is goodness. When goodness is lost, there is morality. When morality is lost, there is ritual. Ritual is the husk of true faith, the beginning of chaos. Therefore the Master concerns himself with the depths and not the surface, with the fruit and not the flower. He has no will of his own. He dwells in reality and lets all illusions go.” I'm telling you, had I been born into Taoism, I might actually believe in something.

This has got to be one of the most perennially beguiling, elliptical things ever written.

It seems all the more mysterious to me because so much of it is couched as this extremely practical, almost Machiavellian political advice.

Having been schooled entirely in the western intellectual tradition, with its notions of hierarchy, dualism and progression (historical, socio/cultural or otherwise), this was a complete mind-fuck to me.

It sort of reminds me of Heidegger, with those really crazy, cyclical concept definitions.

Or certain lines from modest mouse songs.

To further expand, this piece of writing has an allure that never fades. Its elliptical nature keeps pulling me in, making me constantly wonder about its true meaning. The practical political advice it offers, which is almost Machiavellian in its approach, only adds to its mystery.

Coming from a background steeped in the western intellectual tradition, with its emphasis on hierarchy, dualism, and progression in various aspects, this writing completely颠覆了 my understanding.

It's like Heidegger's works, with their crazy and cyclical concept definitions that make my head spin.

Or it's similar to certain lines from Modest Mouse songs that leave me with a sense of confusion and yet a strange kind of fascination.

I find myself constantly grappling with this piece, trying to untangle its mysteries and make sense of its profound ideas.

The secret of a happy life as per the Tao Te Ching seems to completely oppose our present way of life in the globalized world.

Chapter 80 states that small countries with few people are ideal. By providing people with all they desire, they will come to realize that they don't actually need those things. Teaching them that death is a serious matter and to be satisfied with never leaving their homes. Even though they have an abundance of horses, wagons, and boats, they won't feel the need to use them. Even if they possess weapons and shields, they will keep them out of sight. Let people enjoy simple technologies, savor their food, make their own clothes, be content with their own homes, and take delight in the customs they cherish. Although the neighboring country is close enough that they can hear the roosters crowing and dogs barking, they are content to never visit each other throughout their lives.

And when it comes to true wisdom, Chapter 81 says that true words don't sound beautiful; beautiful-sounding words are not true. Wise men don't need to debate; those who need to debate are not wise. Wise men are not scholars, and scholars are not wise.

This ancient wisdom challenges our modern notions of progress, consumption, and constant movement. It makes us question whether our current way of life is truly leading us to happiness and fulfillment.