Navigating Difficult Times. What Would a Daoist Do?
Self-Cultivation as a Way Forward
A lot of people are feeling worn down right now.
Not just angry, but tired and discouraged—unsure of how to move forward.
When the very institutions we rely on lie to us or inflict harm, outrage and grief are appropriate and justified responses. Pretending otherwise only denies our own lived experience.
The question is:
How do we remain human when the world around us feels chaotic and cruel?
One place to look for an answer is in early Daoist practices—the same practices that shape our own courses and training programs.
“What would a Daoist do?” borrows a moral frame that assumes there is a correct action waiting to be named. But Daoist thought doesn’t offer a rule—it offers an orientation from which “correct” action can arise.
I share this perspective to support our shared sanity and integrity at a time when both are under real strain.
Formation of Early Daoist Practices
Practices of self cultivation—ways of maintaining harmony between Heaven, Earth, and the human being—existed long before they were ever called “Daoist."
During the Warring States period of the late Zhou dynasty (c. 475–221 BCE), these practices were further shaped by the extreme conditions of:
Political breakdown
Coercive state power
Forced military service
Famine
Widespread exhaustion and despair
Under this pressure, cultivation was radically reinterpreted. It was no longer about refinement for a small elite. It became a form of psychological survival, moral clarity, and perceptual integrity.
Rather than escapism, the turn inward was a deliberate choice to stay whole—to maintain internal freedom in the face of external circumstances beyond their control.
Cultivation was not only about self-preservation. It was an act of self-sovereignty—a way to foster clarity, discernment, and agency.
What we now call "Daoism" was not originally a religion or even a unified school of thought. It was a way of meeting and understanding reality—a way of living that shaped how a person perceived and oriented their inner world.
“The aim was alignment with Dao (道).”
Regarded as ineffable, Dao (道) itself is not a belief system or a set of rules. It’s better framed as an orienting principle—one that we may infer through the close observation of natural patterns, such as:
The seasonal cycles
Growth and decay
Tension and release
These patterns are not the Dao itself. They are expressions of it.
Daoist thought describes how things work—it describes the natural inherent “way of life.”
Daoist Engagement Under Pressure
Daoist engagement begins with integrity and a clear perception of reality.
It is a recalibration of the self—shifting how we respond to the world.
That shift directly affects:
How we live
How we speak
How we act
Thinkers like Laozi and Zhuangzi lived in a time when “virtue” had become a kind of performance and when governance stopped being humane. Confucian ideas about hierarchy and correct behavior were being used to justify cruelty and demand obedience.
Daoist thought didn’t fight that system directly. Instead, it refused to organize itself around the same assumptions.
Self-cultivation was not about self-improvement as we usually think of it today. It was about non-cooperation with internalized violence—refusing to let injustice set the terms of one’s inner life.
When systems become unjust, they don’t only cause harm through laws or force. They colonize our very beings. Daoist practices aimed to prevent that internal occupation. Rather than merely enduring, cultivation was a commitment to live in alignment with what makes us fully human.
Acting From a Place of Clarity
There’s an important distinction to make here. Daoism does not equate withdrawal with moral indifference.
Injustice matters.
And just as important is how we respond to it—because the way we act can either break the dysfunctional cycle or inadvertently reinforce it.
Laozi, turned common assumptions upside down. The Daodejing (道德經) challenges and undermines the logic of domination by questioning the ideas most people take for granted.
It posited that:
Strength is not the same as force
Order does not mean control
Virtue is not something to be put on display
If someone has to announce that they are correct, good, or kind in order to prove it, it becomes questionable. Zhuangzi was especially sharp in his criticism of the display of false righteousness.
It’s easy to misunderstand Daoist thought when we hear phrases like “the sage does nothing.” This does not mean doing nothing at all. Rather, it alludes to conduct oriented from a place of centered clarity.
This is expressed as Wuwei (无为) — action that is not forced or contrived. Action that is not driven by fear, anger, or the need to prove something.
“When action comes from a distorted inner state, it tends to produce more distortion, even when the goal is justice. ”
Injustice also has psychological consequences. It affects how we think and react.
Cultivation—working with posture, breath, and intention—was how Daoists kept themselves from becoming a mirror image of what they opposed.
Stepping out of the game was not a stepping out of life. Daoists were not against engagement. Everything was about “Who” was acting. Action came out of having complete internal clarity—and from there, choosing when and how to act.
Cultivation, Agency, and Sanity
Empires rise and fall. And we, as people, live inside those cycles.
When the social order begins to break down, the work is not to abandon the world, but to recognize that tending to your inner life is itself a form of action. This comes before politics. Without inner steadiness—action quickly turns into reaction.
This way of responding works by not feeding what is already broken. It means not letting fear or resentment decide how you behave.
The Daodejing teaches “the sage does nothing, yet nothing is left undone” which points to this capacity: stepping out of automatic reactions so that action, when it comes, is deliberate and clear.
We can see a modern parallel in the disciplined nonviolence movements. Their strength did not come from passivity, but from inner steadfastness. By refusing to mirror the aggression directed at them, they disrupted the cycle that allowed violence to keep escalating. This reflects the same Daoist orientation we’re discussing.
Looking at the present moment, the parallels are disconcerting. There is a breakdown of trust. We see institutions claiming moral authority while behaving with incoherent brutally. Discernment is giving way to unquestioning allegiance.
In times like these, cultivation practices—whether Daoist, contemplative, or somatic—become less about feeling calm and more about a provision of personal sovereignty.
Inner cultivation does not tell you how you must respond to injustice. It shifts the place you respond from. From that place, you have more agency, more choice, and more discernment—no matter how you decide to engage.
What You Can Do Right Now
How do we recalibrate ourselves from the inside when the world feels upside down?
By strengthening the inner ground you stand on.
From that internal freedom, you can step off the cycle of constant reaction and recover the capacity for conscious, informed action.
Self-cultivation doesn’t guarantee just outcomes, nor does it replace collective action—it preserves the internal capacity of which action is an expression of.
Early Daoists weren’t hiding in caves. They were training themselves—and others—to remain intact inside destructive systems. So that when they did engage, their actions could make a real difference.
A Place to Begin
Self-cultivation begins with the most basic act of being alive: your breathing.
Here’s a simple yet profound breathing practice: Natural Breathing.
Even a few minutes daily (even if you do nothing else), can help bring you back to your center.
If you already have a Qigong, yoga, or meditation practice—make time for it. Especially now.
These practices aren’t luxuries.
They help steady your internal compass to point to true North so that you can meet the world with equanimity.
And if you don’t yet have a practice to turn to, we’re here to help. Our work is about supporting sanity—about helping people stay clear, grounded, and capable of real engagement, even in difficult times.
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