Tao Te Ching – Chapter Thirteen
Written by Lao-tzu – From a translation by S. Mitchell
Success is as dangerous as failure.
Hope is as hollow as fear.
What does it mean that success is as dangerous as failure?
Whether you go up the ladder or down it,
your position is shaky.
When you stand with your two feet on the ground,
you will always keep your balance.
What does it mean that hope is as hollow as fear?
Hope and fear are both phantoms
that arise from thinking of the self.
When we don’t see the self as self,
what do we have to fear?
See the world as your self.
Have faith in the way things are.
Love the world as your self;
then you can care for all things.
How I Read This Chapter
Success and failure are two sides of the same trap.
Both tie me to ego,
one lifts me too high,
the other drags me down.
Hope and fear,
they seem like opposites,
but both come from wanting control.
The one who stands steady,
feet on the earth,
accepts life as it is, not as it should be.
When I forget myself,
I remember I belong.
When I stop chasing,
I can start caring.
When I see the world as part of me,
I no longer need to win,
I just need to love.
What This Means To Me
In addiction, I was driven by extremes. I wanted to be praised or pitied—anything but ordinary. I chased success in all its forms: admiration, attention, approval. And when I failed—as I often did—I drank to escape the shame. But the truth is, both success and failure were fuel for the same fire: the need to prove I mattered. I lived on a ladder, always climbing or falling, never resting.
This chapter speaks a quiet but profound truth: success is as dangerous as failure. Why? Because both tie my sense of worth to outcomes. When I was up, I feared falling. When I was down, I felt worthless. But when I found recovery—when I finally placed both feet firmly on the ground—I discovered a new kind of balance. One not based on where I stood in the eyes of others, but on where I stood in relation to the truth.
Hope and fear are described here as phantoms—illusions that arise from thinking too much of the self. That hit me hard. I used to think hope was everything, a lifeline. But I see now that hope, like fear, can be rooted in resistance. Hope wants things to be different. Fear dreads that they won’t be. Both pull me away from the present moment, away from acceptance. They keep me living in a story, instead of in reality.
The Tao offers a deeper way: see the world as your self. Not as something to conquer or escape, but as something sacred, shared, and worth loving. This is where recovery has brought me—not just sobriety from alcohol, but a healing of how I see myself in the world. When I stop obsessing over me—how I’m doing, how I’m seen, what I’ve achieved—I begin to notice others. I begin to care.
This is what Step Twelve calls us into: carrying the message, practicing these principles in all our affairs—not from a place of superiority, but from shared humanity. I don’t need to be a “success story.” I just need to be present, honest, and kind. The rest will follow.
“Have faith in the way things are.” This is not resignation—it’s serenity. It’s trusting that even when life doesn’t go to plan, I am still held. Even when I don’t understand, I can still show up with love.
Today, I try to stand with both feet on the ground. I don’t chase highs, and I don’t collapse in lows. I let go of needing to be impressive. I release the old craving to be someone special. Instead, I focus on being someone real.
And from that grounded place, I begin to love the world—not for what it gives me, but simply because it is. And that, more than any hope or fear, is what keeps me sober today.
