Balance, physical and philosophical, is the Taoist recipe for mental clarity. It rests on the habit of doing things carefully and with measure, not too fast and not too slowly, not in excess and not insufficiently.
In their speaking style, Taoists refrain from exaggeration, in particular when it creates false impressions, hopes or promises. Lao-Tzu addressed this point in chapter 63 of the Tao Te Ching by warning us against people who make promises lightly.
Both exaggerations and deficiencies are bound to cause dire problems because they disrupt the world’s natural balance. The Taoist is committed to aligning his actions with the Tao, which amounts to respecting nature’s balance.
For Lao-Tzu, all attempts to disrupt the world’s balance are destined to failure. Negative consequences await people who disrupt the Tao or who refuse to align their actions with nature.
Chuang-Tzu and the archer’s metaphor
Chapter 29 of the Tao Te Ching predicts the loss of power, or loss of grip, for people responsible for the disruptions. Such a loss, I infer, constitutes the beginning of a chain of harmful consequences, which might take some time to materialize.
Balance goes hand in hand with alignment with the Tao, and enables serenity. Taoists operate effectively in all areas of their lives because they develop a strong sensitivity for unbalances.
As a result, they can detect unbalances much faster than the average individual. In the face of unbalances, most people will do nothing, and keep going as though the situation was normal.
In contrast, Taoists will feel the danger and take measures to protect themselves and their family. If the unbalance can easily be restored, they will do so, but that is rarely the case. If there is no possibility to address the issue, Taoists will simply walk away, withdraw, and take cover.
By recounting the archer’s story, Chuang-Tzu illustrated the Taoist concept of balance: A highly skilled archer was able to hit the target every time, but one day, he entered a contest that promised a gold prize to the winner. Due to the tension created by the gold prize, the archer was unable to hit the target.
Balance, in this case mental balance, had been disrupted by the gold prize. Competition pressure had rendered the situation tense and undermined the archer’s skills. I can only assume that his skills returned to normal after the contest, after the tension had evaporated.
The Tao Te Ching and the overflowing cup
According to Lao-Tzu, quietness is a prerequisite for mental clarity and balance. If we speak too much, we might try to put the cart before the horse, paint exaggerated pictures or fall prey to vanity. Those attitudes can only undermine our serenity.
Chapter 2 of the Tao Te Ching expresses a strong preference for actions over words. Wise individuals prefer to demonstrate their skills and virtue by means of action, not by making grand statements.
Taoists opt for speaking with measurement and will regard with suspicion any attempt at grandstanding. Flashy, boisterous verbosity tends to disrupt mental clarity. It impedes alignment with reality and upsets our philosophical balance.
Mental clarity, in the Taoist tradition, entails the rejection of excess. Chapter 9 of the Tao Te Ching warns against excess by telling us not to fill our cup beyond the rim. Overflowing leads to waste and denotes philosophical unbalance.
Tools, even if well designed, need to be carefully built. The same principle applies to homes, bridges and cathedrals. If the pillars are even slightly unbalanced, the walls will shift and the structure will collapse.
However, Taoists don’t view balance as purely mathematical or physical. A flock of hens needs a rooster, but one hen more or less will not affect the rooster’s harmony. Similarly, a wheel needs spikes, but depending on its width and thickness, the number of spikes will vary.
Lao-Tzu and the wheel spikes
Balance is attained by the individual’s relation with the total picture. At which point does a flock of hens become too large? At which point will one rooster prove insufficient?
Irrespective of the number of spikes, what counts is the proportion between them and the empty spaces. Lao-Tzu goes as far as saying, in chapter 11 of the Tao Te Ching, that it is the empty space that makes the wheel function properly.
Unfortunately, many people today regard technology as a means to dispense with balance. They embrace an unbalanced lifestyle and rely on electronic devices to repair the damage. In the long run, however, the consequences cannot be escaped.
The worst possible approach is to view the need for balance as a relic of the past, in the same way as British anthropologist Edward Burnett Tylor (1832-1917) viewed primitive cultures.
After travelling for three years in Cuba and Mexico (1855-1858), Tylor sailed back to the United Kingdom and started to write books about anthropology.
Tylor’s main thesis is that human beings have evolved into a sophisticated civilization little by little, leaving behind most of the traits of primitive cultures. Tylor’s underlying idea is that modern civilisation is far better than primitive cultures.
His book “Researches into the Early History of Mankind and the Development of Civilization,” published in 1865, sees modern civilization as far superior, but doesn’t address aspects such as philosophical balance and mental clarity.
I would not categorize the need for balance as old-fashioned and primitive because, if we throw balance out of the window, we are also dispensing with mental clarity and happiness. Lao-Tzu could not conceive of effective living without balance and mental clarity, and neither can I.
If you are interested in putting effective strategies into practice in all sorts of situations, I recommend my book “The Philosophy of Builders.”