Tao Te Ching – Chapter Fifty-Nine
Written by Lao-tzu – From a translation by S. Mitchell
For governing a country well,
there is nothing better than moderation.
The mark of a moderate man,
is freedom from his own ideas.
Tolerant like the sky,
all-pervading like sunlight,
firm like a mountain,
supple like a tree in the wind,
he has no destination in view,
and makes use of anything,
life happens to bring his way.
Nothing is impossible for him.
Because he has let go,
he can care for the people’s welfare,
as a mother cares for her child.
How I Read This Chapter
The wise one leads by not forcing.
They listen more than they speak,
and adjusts rather than clings.
They are open like the sky,
steady like a mountain,
and soft enough to bend
without breaking.
They don’t rush.
They don’t resist.
They make use of what life brings,
nothing wasted,
nothing forced.
Because they have let go of them-self,
they can truly show up for others.
What This Means To Me
This chapter reminds me of one of the quiet miracles of recovery: the discovery of moderation – not just in how I drink (or should I say don’t), or how I live, but in how I think.
“The mark of a moderate man is freedom from his own ideas.” That line really lands. Because for so long, I was imprisoned by my own thinking. I didn’t think I was – because I thought I was right. My ideas about the world, about people, about myself – especially myself – were hardwired, unquestioned, and often harsh. I was constantly measuring myself against impossible standards, pushing for outcomes, controlling everything I could. My head never stopped, with it’s vicious inner dialogue. And alcohol became the only off-switch I knew.
But in recovery – through the Steps, through prayer, though meditation, through sponsorship – I slowly started letting go of those fixed ideas. I stopped needing to be right. I learned to pause, to listen, to ask for help. And what I found was a new kind of freedom: the freedom to not know. To not have it all figured out. To let life unfold without needing to dictate the script.
And in that moderation – in that spiritual humility – I’ve become someone I actually trust.
I love the imagery in this chapter, “Tolerant like the sky, all-pervading like sunlight, firm like a mountain, supple like a tree in the wind.” That’s the kind of person I want to be today. Open, gentle, grounded – but flexible. Not rigid. Not extreme. Not living at the edges of reaction. In my drinking days, I was all extremes – highs and lows, black and white, all or nothing. But now, I try to live in the middle ground. The gentle ground. The Tao reminds me that real strength isn’t force – it’s presence. It’s consistency. And that’s what the Steps have helped me find.
“He has no destination in view and makes use of anything life happens to bring his way.” That’s the heart of surrender. I used to think I needed a master plan, a big life vision, some grand purpose. But now, I try to show up with open hands. I don’t know what tomorrow holds – and that used to terrify me. But now it frees me. When I stop demanding that life go my way, I can start responding to what life actually is. And that’s where the real growth happens.
“Because he has let go, he can care for the people’s welfare as a mother cares for her child.” That’s the bit that gets me. Because when I let go of self-centred fear, I become available – to love, to serve, to hold space for others. Not because I have the answers, but because I’ve learned to be present. I don’t need to fix anyone. I just need to care, quietly and consistently, like the Tao does. Like a mother. Like sunlight.
Today, I live in moderation – not as a compromise, but as a choice. Not halfway, but whole. Grounded, soft, steady. And because I no longer need everything to go my way, I can finally show up for others – just as they are, just as I am.
