Tao Te Ching – Chapter Seventy-Four
Written by Lao-tzu – From a translation by S. Mitchell
If you realize that all things change,
there is nothing you will try to hold on to.
If you aren't afraid of dying,
there is nothing you can't achieve.
Trying to control the future,
is like trying to take the master carpenter's place.
When you handle the master carpenter's tools,
chances are that you'll cut your hand.
How I Read This Chapter
Everything changes.
Trying to hold on,
only creates pain.
When I stop fearing endings,
new beginnings arrive.
Trying to control life,
is like stealing the chisel,
from the master craftsman.
When I try to shape what isn't mine,
I wound myself.
The Way unfolds on its own,
carving, shaping, creating.
My work is not to take over.
My work is to let go.
What This Means To Me
Letting go has always been one of the hardest things for me.
In my drinking days, I clung to everything – relationships that didn’t serve me, fantasies of who I might become, illusions of control, even the pain itself. I was terrified of change. Terrified of loss. But everything around me was always shifting anyway, and my resistance only deepened the suffering.
This chapter reminds me of what I’ve slowly learned in recovery: that the root of my freedom lies in letting go. When I accept that all things change – feelings, situations, even identities – I stop gripping. I open my hands. I breathe. I trust.
“If you aren’t afraid of dying, there is nothing you can’t achieve.” That line speaks to the courage recovery has called out of me. I used to fear every kind of loss – losing control, losing approval, losing what made me feel safe. But in Step One, I died to my old self. I admitted powerlessness. I surrendered the fight. And from that surrender came life.
Recovery has shown me that what I fear most often holds the key to my freedom. Whether it’s the fear of losing a job, a relationship, or simply not being liked – I now know that I can walk through those fears and remain sober, centred, and held. The fear that once ruled my every decision now feels less like a master and more like a message: There is something here I need to release.
The lines about the Master Carpenter remind me of Step Three – turning my will and my life over to the care of a Higher Power. Every time I’ve tried to run the show, it’s ended in chaos. I’ve tried to hammer and carve my life into what I thought it should be, only to find I was bleeding all over it.
When I interfere – when I try to control the outcomes, the people, the process – I usually get hurt. The Tao calls this out gently but clearly: Trying to use tools that are not mine will only wound me.
So I stop. I pause. I pray. I trust.
The Master Carpenter is already at work. I don’t have to shape the whole of my life – I just need to take care of the next plank, the next breath, the next amends, the next act of service. That’s all.
And when I remember that everything is changing anyway, I can loosen my grip. I can let the Tao do what it does best – transform, guide, and hold.
Today, I don’t try to force the future. I don’t need to carve it with my bare hands. I let it unfold. And in that letting go, I find peace.
