Tao Te Ching – Chapter Thirty-Nine
Written by Lao-tzu – From a translation by S. Mitchell
In harmony with the Tao,
the sky is clear and spacious,
the earth is solid and full,
all creatures flourish together,
content with the way they are,
endlessly repeating themselves,
endlessly renewed.
When man interferes with the Tao,
the sky becomes filthy,
the earth becomes depleted,
the equilibrium crumbles,
creatures become extinct.
The Master views the parts with compassion,
because he understands the whole.
His constant practice is humility.
He doesn’t glitter like a jewel
but lets himself be shaped by the Tao,
as rugged and common as stone.
How I Read This Chapter
When I am in harmony with the Way,
life flows.
There is enough.
There is space.
There is renewal.
But when I grasp, force, or interfere,
I lose that balance.
The sky clouds,
the ground shakes,
my spirit dries up.
The Master sees with wide vision,
feeling for the parts,
by honouring the whole.
He does not try to shine,
he simply is.
Worn smooth by life,
humbled by grace,
he becomes part of the Way again.
What This Means To Me
This chapter speaks to the natural order of things – the quiet, sacred rhythm that exists when I stop trying to control everything and allow life to be what it is. In my addiction, I was always interfering. I didn’t trust anyone. I didn’t trust myself. I pushed, pulled, manipulated, escaped. And every time I did, something inside me broke a little more.
“In harmony with the Tao, all creatures flourish together, content with the way they are.” I longed for that contentment, but I didn’t know how to stop striving. I tried to fix everything with more effort – more drinking, more pretending, more plans. I didn’t realise that peace wasn’t something to achieve; it was something I returned to when I stopped trying to force the world into my shape.
“When man interferes with the Tao, the sky becomes filthy, the earth depleted…” I recognise that in myself. When I interfered – when I didn’t trust the process – I polluted my own soul. I clouded my judgement. I depleted my body, my relationships, my spirit. I chased happiness, and in doing so, I trampled over the very things that could have brought it.
Recovery has shown me a different way. When I align myself with the Tao – with honesty, with humility, with service – things begin to heal. I don’t need to strive. I just need to stay present, do the next right thing, and allow life to unfold. That’s where clarity returns. That’s where I find the solid ground beneath me again.
“The Master views the parts with compassion, because he understands the whole.” That’s how I now try to view myself and others. In addiction, I saw only the fragments – my worst moments, others’ failures, all the broken pieces. But the Master sees with wider eyes. He sees the whole story. He sees not just the action, but the pain beneath it. The wound behind the anger. The humanity beneath the mistake.
This is the lens I’ve learned to bring to recovery: compassion. For myself, when I falter. For others, when they do. We’re all part of something greater. We’re all learning to live in balance again.
“His constant practice is humility.” That’s what keeps me grounded. Not grand speeches or spiritual showmanship. Just daily humility. Saying “I don’t know.” Asking for help. Admitting when I’m wrong. Letting go of needing to be impressive, and choosing instead to be real.
The final image is beautiful: “He doesn’t glitter like a jewel but lets himself be shaped by the Tao, as rugged and common as stone.” That’s the kind of person I want to be. Not polished, not perfect – just honest. Useful. Grounded. Letting life smooth my edges, not because I strive, but because I stay present and let it shape me.
Today, I don’t need to shine. I don’t need to stand out. I just need to stay connected – to My God, to the Way, to my true self. And in that quiet place of trust, everything becomes enough.
Let the Tao shape me. Let life shape me. I don’t need to resist it anymore.
