Each Day, a Little Less

Reading it step by step

We're six pages into this theme. We've watched the sage claim no credit, own nothing, refuse to compete, stay soft. You may be wondering: all very fine, but how do you practise it? Today's chapter gives a method: subtraction.

First: learning adds; the Dao subtracts. School, books and new skills add knowledge day by day. That's good, and Laozi isn't against it. But knowledge has one habit: it divides. Show the same moon to an astronomer and she sees a rocky satellite; show it to a poet and he sees home. Show the same house to an estate agent and he sees a price; show it to a child and she sees somewhere to hide. Every kind of knowledge hands us a pair of glasses, and with them a frame. The Dao is a whole. To see the whole, you take the frames off, one at a time.

Third: “act without contrivance, and nothing is left undone.” What's left at the end of all this subtracting isn't emptiness. What's gone is the extra, the forced, the moves made to show yourself off. Then the things that ought to happen start getting done, one by one, on their own. Governing works the same way: stop meddling and stirring things up, and people can make good lives for themselves.

We're all good at addition: one more course, one more certificate, one more app. But before bed each night, try one subtraction. Which of today's opinions could I put down? Which thought don't I need to keep gripping?

Addition helps you know more. Subtraction helps you see clearly.