Flexibility and adaptability are, intellectually, modern ideas, immensely difficult to grasp for ancient and medieval minds. Even today, millions of people remain reluctant to regard each individual as master of his fate. Instead, they view one’s health, success or happiness as driven by factors outside one’s control.
Although Taoism was created in the 6th century BC, its ideas are remarkably modern in this respect; in the times of Lao-Tzu, China experienced widespread war, famine and poverty, but in the Tao Te Ching, humans are depicted as responsible for their own success, that is, provided that they align their actions with the Tao.
What is the Taoist formula for achieving health, success and happiness? Softness and flexibility, as exemplified by water. In Chapter 8 of the Tao Te Ching, Lao-Tzu affirms that “the best way to live is to behave like water because water is universally beneficial and does not harm anybody.”
Lao-Tzu and adaptability
Lao-Tzu had never heard of the devastating damage caused by floods and tsunamis, but leaving those aside, he was correct in characterising water as beneficial: good irrigation is needed to help crops grow steadily; animals and humans require clean drinking water; and swimming pools are a great source of fun.
Taoist water metaphors go beyond the physical advantages of irrigation and imbibition. They refer to psychological traits such as smoothness, inconspicuousness, quietness, gentleness, peacefulness, and the willingness to circumvent obstacles.
People who possess those psychological traits are regarded by Taoists as strong, resilient and practically invincible. Little by little, they can erode any obstacle, dissolve any constraints, and overcome any resistance.
Lao-Tzu praised water-like mentalities in Chapter 78 of the Tao Te Ching: “Although water is the softest and most yielding substance, it can easily defeat harder and stronger obstacles.” Metaphorically, Lao-Tzu is acknowledging the vast powers of gentle, smooth, resilient individuals.
While adaptability is an essential Taoist virtue, it is seldom categorised as such by other philosophers, ancient or modern. For instance, Socrates (470-399 BC) criticized prejudice and arrogance, but never figured out how to circumvent them; and Confucius (551-479 BC) placed the respect for ancestors and social mores on a higher level than individual progress.
Chuang-Tzu and the drowning man
Chuang-Tzu wrote a story in which a drowning man tries to escape the whirls in a river. He does his utmost to swim away from the whirls, but the current pushes him back. When he is about to succumb, he figures out that he can escape by floating passively. By doing nothing, he lets himself get carried away, and reaches the riverbank safely.
Taoist flexibility doesn’t mean randomness. It doesn’t mean that we can win by taking thoughtless, ill-conceived, arbitrary, uncoordinated action. Water flows smoothly and flexibly, but not randomly. It seeks to circumvent obstacles, but will always look for a downward path.
Does Chinese history offer examples that confirm Lao-Tzu’s water metaphor? Yes, for instance, the Battle of Gaixia, fought in 202 BC. According to tradition, Liu Bang defeated Xiang Yu by practising Taoist flexibility, patience, and the willingness to yield when necessary.
Xiang Yu lost the Battle of Gaixia because he was inflexible and impatient. His strength and boldness did him in. When his attack was repelled and his troops surrounded, Xiang Yu opted for running away.
However, the escape didn’t last long. Shortly after, Xiang Yu committed suicide, and Liu Bang, the winner from the battle, became the first ruler of the Han dynasty in China.
I cannot ascertain if Liu Bang had won the Battle of Gaixia because he had practised Taoist virtues, or because he had been lucky and later seized the opportunity, for publicity purposes, to pretend that was a Taoist.
In any case, the water metaphors in the Tao Te Ching do not primarily pursue military purposes. They shape the Taoist way of life in all areas: health, personal finance, relationships, work and the achievement of happiness as a whole.
Chuang-Tzu and the drying lake
Chapter 8 of the Tao Te Ching describes in great detail what it means to “behave like water.” It calls for practising kindness, fairness, truthfulness, harmony, and aligning our actions with the Tao. If we do all that, says Lay-Tzu, we can expect to gain the upper hand, at least in the long term.
Chuang-Tzu (3rd century BC) also used water metaphors in his stories, but underlining the dire effects of water deprivation or insufficient availability. If the victims fail to realize that the water level is going down, they might get trapped and perish.
In one of his stories, Chuang-Tzu speaks of fish dying on the sand after a lake has dried up. The fish had failed to detect that the water level was diminishing, and at one point, it was just too late for them to escape.
In Chuang-Tzu’s metaphor of the drying lake, the fish might have escaped if they had found an escape route, for instance, an underground stream connecting the lake to a nearby river. They could certainly not have adapted to living on dry sand. In their case, the only alternatives were escaping or dying.
Inflexible organisations or people resemble the stranded fish in Chuang-Tzu’s metaphor. When the environment changes too fast, they find it hard to adapt and, as a result, they might find themselves stranded.
For this reason, Taoists consider flexibility and harmony to be twin virtues. One cannot be sustained without the other. The fish in the diminishing lake did not possess enough flexibility to survive on dry sand. There, they could never find harmony.
Taoism and self-improvement
Can flexibility be trained? Can we teach ourselves the skills we need to become as adaptable as water? Yes, but one should not confuse adaptability with strength.
In Chuang-Tzu’s story, it would have proven useless for the fish to become stronger and larger. In fact, a larger bodily size would have only hastened their demise. Unfortunately, people will sometimes emphasise strength training to the detriment of flexibility training.
If we want to train for flexibility (physical, intellectual, and financial), we should “put our own views behind,” states Lao-Tzu in Chapter 7 of the Tao Te Ching. Instead of planning to do more of the same, let us consider non-linear alternatives.
I am referring to uncomfortable, disruptive options that may entail relocation, changes in nutrition patterns, change of job or profession, acquiring new skills, or finding new friends. None of those actions will flow naturally out of “getting stronger.”
Water is inherently flexible, and for Taoists, flexibility is far more important than strength. “If we force things, they will end up decaying faster,” explains Chapter 55 of the Tao Te Ching.
Let’s remind ourselves that water cannot be trained to grow stronger, healthier or more imposing. Thus, we should question whether our self-development efforts are making us more like water, or just stronger.
Chuang-Tzu recounted a story about a man who trained to become stronger by practising all sorts of strenuous exercises. He acquired a vast strength, but when he aged, his overgrown muscles did him a disservice. They made his body somewhat unbalanced and ended up undermining his original purpose.
If the protagonist of Chuang-Tzu’s story could have turned back the clock, I guess that he would have combined strength training with flexibility training. Fair enough, if one gravitates towards the conclusion that it is better to do both than nothing at all. The Taoist metaphors about water don’t preclude finding better training methods than the ones used by Chuang-Tzu.
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