A Taoist Teaching on Letting Go
What is the opposite of death? The natural response might be "life," but that would be incorrect. The true opposite of death is birth. Life itself has no opposite—it is a continuous flow, an ever-present undercurrent beneath the duality of form.
Imagine the yin-yang symbol. Birth and death play their roles on the surface, shifting and cycling as opposites. Gain and loss, joy and sorrow, up and down—this is the realm of form. But beneath all of that is life itself, an uninterrupted existence, a space where opposites dissolve. Many people seek to be happy, but what does that truly mean? Happiness, like all things in the realm of form, fluctuates. No one is happy 100% of the time—such a state would be artificial, unsustainable. But peace, true peace, exists in the space beneath all change.
Life is a constant interplay of creation and destruction. Something is always breaking down, whether it's a car, a body, or even our thoughts and emotions. Think about your body—perfect today, but tomorrow, a visit to the dentist awaits. Even the most well-maintained vehicle will eventually need repairs. Nothing in form remains untouched by time. Change is inevitable.
From the moment of birth, we experience a metaphorical cutting. A newborn enters the world through separation. From the mother's perspective, there is a loss—a part of her body is now gone. From the child's perspective, there is independence—a birth of individuality. Birth and death are always intertwined. So, the question arises: what in your life needs to be cut?
This is not just about letting go of material things, though it could be. Perhaps it's time to clean out the garage or declutter a drawer. But more often, the cutting is internal. A repeating thought pattern that no longer serves you, a toxic relationship, an outdated schedule—these are the attachments that require release. Even something as simple as a haircut or trimming your nails is a small but symbolic act of renewal. Letting go is a birth in itself, an opening to something new.
To cultivate this understanding, we practice breathing. With each exhalation, we visualize the release of what no longer serves us. Inhaling brings in fresh, white light—renewal, clarity. Exhaling expels the turbid chi, the stagnation, the unnecessary weight we carry. The breath, like life, moves through cycles of expansion and contraction, inhalation and exhalation, birth and death.
Box breathing, a powerful technique, aligns the mind and body into a state of balance. Inhale, hold, exhale, hold. This rhythm is an ancient key to internal alchemy, a mastery over one’s own energy. As we engage in this practice, we are not just breathing; we are refining ourselves, purifying the mind, and creating space for transformation.