What it Looks Like to Surf the Tao (Tao Te Ching 20)

20.

Stop overthinking.

Let your worries go.

It doesn’t matter 

if popular opinion goes this way 

or that way.

In the end,

there’s really no difference

between success and failure,

since we receive lessons from both. 

So tell me: should I fear what others fear?

Don’t be silly. 

The crowd is getting rowdy, 

and they’re heading for a party.

They want to get drunk

and “get laid.”

But I lounge around,

as if I didn’t get the invitation.

I’m like a newborn

who hasn’t even learned smile yet.

I must seem like a foundling,

who’s now drifting about 

like a vagabond.

Most men try to hoard their excess.

But I leave everything behind.

They think I must be an idiot.

“Dumbass,” they sneer.

The crowd is glamorous

but I seem common.

Everyone else is a player.

They think I don’t have game.

But I’m just floating 

on ocean waves,

surfing the Tao

whichever way it flows.

Others chase success.

I must seem strange.

I simply receive 

the blessings 

that are already here,

like a suckling infant.

Reflection

Many English translators often understood this chapter to be one of existential despair, Lao Tzu at his most melancholic. Yet that’s not the only way to read what’s going on with the sage here, in one of his most personal chapters. There are at least three ways to interpret the author’s state of mind in chapter 20:

1) He’s being mopey. This is how many of the older translations understood his meaning. A refrain in the original text is “I alone,” which leads some to connect the way of the Tao surfer to a life of loneliness. This would fit with the experience of our friend Autumn’s mom, who said “It gets lonely when you have true faith.” There may be a little bit of this sort of poignancy in the chapter, but we think there’s more. 

2) He’s spiritually arrogant. The contrast between his own way and that of the larger community could indicate that Lao Tzu is being a sort of woke spiritual hipster, too cool for the average dolt who just doesn’t get it. In this case, he’d be acting like the prophet Elijah who thought he was the only follower of the truth left on earth in 1 Kings 9:10: “I have been very zealous for the Lord God Almighty. The Israelites have rejected your covenant, torn down your altars, and put your prophets to death with the sword. I am the only one left, and now they are trying to kill me too.”

3) He’s clear-headed and playful. We favor this interpretation. Lao Tzu is explaining why his way of life is so different from those hustling and bustling around him. Everybody is frantically preparing for a party that the sage, for some reason, is casually ignoring. This makes him seem foolish, but—with a wink—Lao Tzu is content with the way that seems less glamorous.

This third approach is supported by chapter 70. In that chapter, Lao Tzu explains that only a few understand him, though there have been other ancient sages like him. They too were both rare and were also misunderstood. This, Lao Tzu says, is why no one seems to get him even though a few individuals go to great lengths to meet with him and learn from his wisdom. “This is why sages don’t look like much,” he writes in chapter 70, “but carry within themselves the greatest of treasures.”

In other words, we don’t think he’s all that sad in this chapter. He may lament the fact that more people aren’t able to surf the Tao, but he’s also content. The only reason for him to be bummed out about his condition would be for him to care about the opinions of the masses. But the sage is beyond that. That’s why the chapter ends not with a frantic attempt to be at the most happening event but with an image of receptivity: that of a nursing child. In this way, he resonates with Jesus’ observation that the kingdom of God belongs to those who take on the mind of a child (Luke 18:16).

So here’s the wink and the insight Lao Tzu offers us all: look for the real party going on. We’ve all been to parties out of obligation and they often lead to anxiety and exhaustion. But the real party includes butterflies emerging from their cocoons in a tiny yard. It includes a woman with terminal cancer enjoying the feeling of her feet in the ocean waves. It includes playing a board game with your grandson. Being present and enjoying the gifts that are all around us is what the Tao offers us. In doing this, it also releases us from our panic about getting invited to the big flashy events, being noticed, and looking just right. 

Have you ever been shamed by a “successful” person for your lack of drive? There are folks who think being meek and content with less is a sign of weakness. Anyone who’s still stuck in that mindset won’t be able even to understand Lao Tzu’s attitude in this chapter. They might think, perhaps, that the world needs to come to its senses and make Lao Tzu the major celebrity at whatever event is taking place. But that would be to miss the point entirely. We think Lao Tzu was relieved to lounge about while others ran this way and that. 

You see, once we understand that Lao Tzu was content to be different from the crowd rather than bummed out we will be better able to apply his teachings to our own lives. Lao Tzu wasn’t experiencing persecution from those in the system; they just couldn’t understand him. Therefore, freedom from shallow and expensive events is liberating, not something to lament. In other words, the sage isn’t worried about getting to a better party, the sage is the epicenter of the true cosmic party. You can be too.