Tao Te Ching – Chapter Fifty-Four
Written by Lao-tzu – From a translation by S. Mitchell
Whoever is planted in the Tao,
will not be rooted up.
Whoever embraces the Tao,
will not slip away.
Her name will be held in honour,
from generation to generation.
Let the Tao be present in your life,
and you will become genuine.
Let it be present in your family,
and your family will flourish.
Let it be present in your country,
and your country will be an example,
to all countries in the world.
Let it be present in the universe,
and the universe will sing.
How do I know this is true?
By looking inside myself.
How I Read This Chapter
Whatever is planted deeply,
will endure.
Whatever is held with love,
will not be lost.
The Way grows from the inside out.
First in a heart,
then in a home,
then in the world.
Plant it in your life,
and your roots will hold.
Let it guide you,
and life will blossom.
You’ll know it’s real,
not from books,
not from teachings,
but by the quiet knowing,
within your own soul.
What This Means To Me
I love this chapter. It speaks not just to recovery, but to one of my oldest and dearest passions: gardening. Working with soil, with roots, with growth. There’s something sacred about it – something that always made me feel connected to the deeper rhythm of life.
During my drinking days, there was a period when I worked as a landscape gardener and nurseryman. And looking back, I can honestly say that was one of the better times. My drinking hadn’t completely taken over – yet. I was outdoors, surrounded by growth and beauty, physically grounded, working with the seasons, the elements, the rhythm of creation. I remember moments of genuine happiness – those rare days when the fog lifted and I felt part of something greater than myself.
And yet, alcohol still had a hold. Even in those brighter days, I couldn’t stay rooted. I’d get close to peace, and then sabotage it. A blowout. A binge. A week lost to excessive drinking. I’d feel the Tao pressing gently against me – and then slip away from it. Not because it wasn’t there, but because I wasn’t ready to surrender.
“Whoever is planted in the Tao will not be rooted up.” That line hits something deep. Because now, in sobriety, I feel that rootedness. Not perfect, not immovable – but present. Grounded. Planted in something real. And I know the difference. The Tao isn’t something I visit now and then. It’s something I live with – like the garden I tend daily. And the more I care for it, the more it cares for me.
“Let the Tao be present in your life and you will become genuine.” That word – genuine – feels like such a gift. In addiction, I wore so many masks. I tried to be who I thought others wanted me to be, or who I needed to be to get by. But now, in recovery, I’m becoming more and more myself. Just me. Honest. Flawed. Healing. That’s the kind of growth the Tao offers: not flashy, but deep. Not fast, but lasting.
I also love how this chapter speaks of expansion: first yourself, then your family, then the world. That mirrors how recovery works. It starts with me – my relationship with my Higher Power, with truth, with stillness, with learning to love myself. Then it radiates outward. My relationships heal. I show up differently. I become someone others can lean on. And little by little, that ripples out into the world.
And then this, “How do I know this is true? By looking inside myself.” That’s it. That’s the proof. I don’t need to argue for the Tao, or for recovery, or for grace. I know it’s real because I feel it. Because I’ve lived both sides – the rootless wandering, and the steady return to centre. I’ve seen what grows when I’m present, and what withers when I’m not. The garden doesn’t lie.
Today, I let the Tao root in me. I tend to it with honesty, with prayer, with action. I water it with kindness. I clear the weeds of ego and fear. And slowly, patiently, something beautiful grows.
