Tao Te Ching – Chapter Six
Written by Lao-tzu – From a translation by S. Mitchell
The Tao is called the Great Mother:
empty yet inexhaustible,
it gives birth to infinite worlds.
It is always present within you.
You can use it any way you want.
How I Read This Chapter
The Tao is the Great Mother,
not a ruler or judge, but a source.
She is empty, not because she lacks,
but because she is open, receptive, alive with potential.
From her, all things arise.
From her, new beginnings are always possible.
She is not far away,
she lives within us, quietly,
ready to be drawn upon whenever we are willing.
This is recovery.
This is grace.
Not forced, but freely offered.
Not earned, but always available.
What This Means To Me
In early recovery, I believed I had burned every bridge—spiritually, emotionally, morally. I saw myself as a taker, not a builder. I thought I had emptied myself of any worth. But the Tao speaks of a different kind of emptiness—one that is not shameful, but sacred. The Great Mother is empty because she is vast, open, able to give endlessly. What a contrast to the way I used to live, trying to grasp and hold and consume. My life back then was filled with noise and craving, yet it was never enough.
The idea that something so generous and powerful could still live within me was hard to believe at first. But over time, through working the Steps, sitting in silence, and opening up in meetings, I began to sense it. A quiet strength. A deeper current. A source of love that didn’t ask me to be perfect, just willing. I realised the Great Mother—the Tao, the Higher Power, whatever name I give it—is not outside me, judging my failings. She is inside, always ready to give birth to something new.
This chapter reminds me that healing doesn’t come from force or effort alone. It comes from returning to that source, again and again. The Tao gives birth to “infinite worlds”—and in recovery, I’ve seen those new worlds emerge. A world where I no longer drink to cope. A world where I tell the truth instead of hiding. A world where connection replaces isolation. None of these changes happened overnight, but they all came from the same place: that still centre within, the part of me that the Tao never abandoned.
“It is always present within you.” That line touches something tender in me. I spent years feeling like I had to earn worthiness. I thought spirituality was for other people—people who hadn’t done what I’d done. But this truth changes everything. I don’t have to go out and find it. I don’t have to become someone else. The Tao—the source of new life—is already here. It always was. My only task is to turn toward it.
And then this: “You can use it any way you want.” Not in the selfish way I once lived—using people, substances, and moments to escape—but in the humble way of recovery. I can draw upon this power when I share in a meeting. When I sit with another alcoholic in pain. When I take a breath instead of a drink. When I pause to pray instead of panic. This inexhaustible source is not something I control—but it is something I can rely on.
I am not empty in the way I feared. I am empty in the way that makes room for miracles.
