Tao Te Ching – Chapter Twenty-Seven
Written by Lao-tzu – From a translation by S. Mitchell
A good traveller has no fixed plans,
and is not intent upon arriving.
A good artist lets his intuition,
lead him wherever it wants.
A good scientist has freed himself of concepts,
and keeps his mind open to what is.
Thus the Master is available to all people,
and doesn't reject anyone.
He is ready to use all situations,
and doesn't waste anything.
This is called embodying the light.
What is a good man but a bad man's teacher?
What is a bad man but a good man's job?
If you don't understand this, you will get lost,
however intelligent you are.
It is the great secret.
How I Read This Chapter
The one who is truly wise does not cling to plans,
does not need certainty to take the next step.
let intuition, not fear, guide you.
see not what should be,
but what is—and begin from there.
In recovery, this means being open:
to the moment, to others, to the unexpected.
It means trusting the path,
even when we don't know where it's going.
do not label people as worthy or unworthy.
welcome all,
because nothing—and no one—is wasted.
Light shines even through our darkest places.
The good teach the struggling.
The struggling awaken the compassion of the good.
Each needs the other.
This is the secret.
This is the Way.
What This Means To Me
For a long time, I lived life with a desperate need to know where I was going, even though I always felt lost. I needed a plan. I needed answers. I needed to know I’d be okay, even when I never felt good. In addiction, I clung to the illusion of control—even as my life unravelled. And in early recovery, I brought that same fear with me: what’s the right way to heal? Am I doing this correctly? Will I get “there”?
But this chapter reminds me: “a good traveller doesn’t insist on arriving. A good artist doesn’t force the painting. A good scientist lets go of old beliefs.” In other words, recovery asks me to loosen my grip on the map and trust the road beneath my feet. To allow my path to unfold—not according to my plan, but according to grace.
“The Master is available to all people and doesn’t reject anyone.” That line hits something tender in me. Because I’ve felt rejected—by others, by myself, by the life I thought I ruined. But recovery, like the Master, doesn’t shut the door. It says: come in. No matter how far you’ve fallen, no matter how lost you’ve been. You’re not wasted. You’re not beyond use. Everything can be transformed.
And I’ve seen it. I’ve seen people who once couldn’t go an hour without a drink now guiding others with kindness. I’ve seen “bad men” become “good men’s jobs”—teaching humility, patience, and forgiveness just by being where they are. I’ve seen myself—once full of shame and resentment—become a vessel for hope and gratitude, simply by being honest, and keeping my heart and mind open.
“What is a good man but a bad man’s teacher? What is a bad man but a good man’s job?” That might be the most powerful teaching of all. Because it invites me to drop the labels. To stop separating the world into good and bad, sober and sick, worthy and worthless. We are all each other’s mirrors. We are all each other’s work.
If I don’t understand this—if I forget that even my worst moments have taught me compassion—I’ll get lost. I might stay sober, but I’ll miss the deeper healing. Because the great secret isn’t just abstinence. It’s connection. It’s wholeness. It’s learning to see light in everything, even the broken pieces.
So today, I try to walk without demanding arrival. To create without controlling the outcome. To learn without clinging to old concepts. And above all, to welcome what is—within me, within others—without judgment or waste.
Because this is the secret. And it’s changing everything.
