Tao Te Ching – Chapter Sixty Two
Written by Lao-tzu – From a translation by S. Mitchell
The Tao is the centre of the universe,
the good man’s treasure,
the bad man’s refuge.
Honors can be bought with fine words,
respect can be won with good deeds;
but the Tao is beyond all value,
and no one can achieve it.
Thus, when a new leader is chosen,
don’t offer to help him,
with your wealth or your expertise.
Offer instead,
to teach him about the Tao.
Why did the ancient Masters esteem the Tao?
Because, being one with the Tao,
when you seek, you find;
and when you make a mistake, you are forgiven.
That is why everybody loves it.
How I Read This Chapter
The Way doesn’t belong to the clever,
the holy, or the strong.
It belongs to all.
To the joyful and the lost,
to the ones who shine,
and the ones who have been broken.
It offers refuge, not reward.
It forgives. It welcomes. It restores.
The Way can’t be earned,
but it can be found.
It can’t be bought,
but it can be trusted.
When you seek, you find.
When you fall, you are held.
What This Means To Me
There’s a line in this chapter that speaks straight to my experience of early recovery: “The Tao is the good man’s treasure, the bad man’s refuge.” That line alone could’ve saved me years of self-punishment. Because for so long, I thought spiritual things – peace, belonging, connection – were for other people. People who had their lives together. People who didn’t mess things up. People who didn’t drink like I drank, or think like I thought. I felt like an outsider, even to grace.
But this chapter reminds me what I now know to be true: the Tao welcomes the broken just as much as the whole. And maybe even more so. It’s not a prize for the pure. It’s a refuge for the weary.
When I first came to meetings, I didn’t feel good. I didn’t feel like treasure. I felt ashamed, uncertain, raw. But the Steps didn’t demand credentials. They just asked for honesty, and willingness. That’s all the Tao asks for, too. When I came humbly, it was there. When I kept coming back, even after messing up – it was still there. I didn’t earn it. I just showed up. And that was enough.
“When you seek, you find; and when you make a mistake, you are forgiven.” That line feels like pure Step Eleven and Step Ten rolled into one. Every day I seek, and some days I stumble. But when I turn back, the Tao isn’t angry. It doesn’t keep score. It just receives me again, quietly. That kind of spiritual love is unlike anything I grew up with. It’s not transactional. It doesn’t depend on behaviour or image or effort. It’s just there – deep, soft, steady.
I also really love the warning here about power, “When a new leader is chosen… don’t offer wealth or expertise. Offer to teach the Tao.” That hits home. Because in recovery, when I take on service or guide others, I have to remember: I’m not here to impress or advise. I’m here to walk the path. To embody it. To pass on what was freely given to me – not through knowledge or strength, but through honesty and presence.
And perhaps most beautiful of all is this, “The Tao is beyond all value.” You can’t measure it. You can’t earn it. You can’t fake it. But if you seek it, it meets you. If you fall, it forgives you. And if you live close to it, people feel it – even if they don’t know what it is. That’s the kind of quiet power I want in my life.
Today, I don’t need to be “good enough” to belong. I just need to stay close to the Way. The Tao doesn’t care where I’ve been – only that I keep coming back.
