In the Western world, we owe a lot of our successes to the inspired thinking of some of history’s greatest minds. Philosophers like Aristotle, Plato, Immanuel Kant, David Hume, and John Locke illuminated our thoughts and shaped significant underpinnings of our worldview.

We reap the benefits of a world built on rationality and reason. Cognitive thought, empiricism, objectivity, and cold, hard facts sit at the foundations of our societies. There are many, many good things that come of this.

But there are pitfalls too. Blind spots. While the Western world was solidifying its understanding of the material world, in the East, there was an emphasis on the rhythms of nature. On subtlety, nuance, and acceptance of things beyond our ability to rationally understand.

Though it can sometimes feel like history is behind us, we live in a world where these two different modes of thought are coalescing with each other, and are still reconciling their differences.

Let’s take a moment to learn about some alternative ways of thinking from mindsets that may feel foreign to some of our own. A broader view of the world’s perspectives of the world will only add more richness to our lives.

Buddhism: Finding Freedom Through Impermanence and Non-Self

“Brief is this existence, as a fleeting visit in a strange house.”
– Albert Einstein

We see the world as a solid thing. If we wake up, today will be the same as yesterday. And tomorrow will be the same as today. It can certainly feel that way sometimes. And it can conjure up feelings ranging from dullness to safety. But this is not the true nature of reality. Nothing stays the same forever. All of existence is in a constant state of change.

For example, consider someone who identifies completely with their job. Their sense of being and worth is intertwined with their profession. It gives them purpose. One day, they wake up only to discover they’ve been fired or let go. Their universe is shattered, and they are left feeling lost. The solid definitions of their life have suddenly evaporated into thin air.

A core facet of Buddhism is the idea of impermanence. In Pali, the language of the early Buddhist texts (such as the Pali Canon), this idea is known as anicca. We suffer when we hold onto things we can’t control.

Everything in nature is subject to change, from the smallest atom to the largest planet in the solar system. Right now, everything as we know it is in some way vanishing before our eyes.

A tree blooms in the spring. Flowers give way to leaves until those leaves wither and fall to the ground for the winter. Then, as always, life renews again. This is the way of all things: the old must constantly make way for the new.

A simple cup provides us with an example of impermanence. If it falls to the ground, it can shatter into pieces. This is an obvious instance of change. But there is a more subtle change that reflects the core of Buddhist teaching. Even if the cup remains intact, our feelings, thoughts, and perceptions of the cup are also continually changing.

This inner change speaks to the idea of anatta, or ‘non-self’. This is the more personal facet of Buddhism which speaks to the notion that there is no such thing as a permanent ‘self’ or ‘soul’. We are not etched in stone, but instead are closer to a flowing river—at once both the same body of water, and yet constantly changing. When we think “I,” what we’re actually referencing is a collection of transient thoughts, feelings, and perceptions.

According to the Buddha, attachment to this ‘self’ is the root source of all delusion. 

With a Buddhist’s understanding of impermanence, someone who loses their job realizes that change is inevitable. Their sense of purpose is not reliant on their profession. Working conditions come and go, and it’s unhelpful to add existential agony to an already stressful situation. Letting go of their perceived ‘self’ (anatta) helps them adapt to changing circumstances and explore the new opportunities that await them.

The past has come and gone. The future does not yet exist. The present moment is the only thing that is true.

Buddhism is perhaps one of the greatest self-help ideologies on the planet. The first of its Four Noble Truths dictates that an innate characteristic in life is the suffering we feel due to the painful fact that nothing lasts forever. Our lives, our friendships, our loves and loved ones. Only by accepting that this suffering exists can we learn to move past it.

Buddhism says that we have a choice. We can choose not to suffer in such a way. But as with anything worth achieving, this feat is easier said than done. Ingrained mental habits—such as the narratives about our lives which repeat in our heads over and over—make letting go of things a challenge.

If suffering is the diagnosis, Buddhism’s Noble Eightfold Path is the prescription. Buddha describes this journey as “The Middle Way.” A path of balance, where extremes are avoided. The eight tenets are as follows:

1. Right Understanding
2. Right Thought
3. Right Speech
4. Right Action
5. Right Livelihood
6. Right Effort
7. Right Mindfulness
8. Right Concentration

To make it more digestible, these are grouped into three key areas: moral conduct (understanding, thought, speech), mental development (action, livelihood, effort), and wisdom (mindfulness, concentration).

All this focus on suffering sometimes gives the impression that Buddhism deals in a negative outlook on life. But that misses the point. Buddhism is about taking a pragmatic approach to accepting the world as it really is. We cannot fix a problem if we refuse to look at it with clear eyes.

According to Buddhism, when we overcome our attachments to the things that cause us suffering (thoughts, feelings, people, possessions, situations), we gain access to a deeper part of ourselves that is more authentically happy and connected with the world. This liberated state of mind is also our original mind. The one we’ve forgotten due to being buried under years of suffering and illusion.

Impermanence is also a double edged-sword. It is not only loss. It is change. And change can be a renewing force. Who you are today is not who you were yesterday. You are free to let go of the illusions that plagued the version of you that no longer exists. The body that is currently sitting, reading this, breathing, blinking—that’s you. It’s all of you: the culmination of your entire life experience.

If you’re struggling with a breakup, remember that relationships, like everything, evolve. Do not focus on the permanent loss, but on the natural transition into something new. If your phone is stolen, don’t spiral into frustration and despair. Accept that material possessions come and go. While losing your phone is inconvenient, don’t let it disrupt your peace. If you’re having a bad day, take comfort in the fact that it will come to an end. All moments are just waves that rise and fall.

When in doubt, review the Buddha’s Five Remembrances:

• I am of the nature to grow old. There is no way to escape growing old.
• I am of the nature to have ill health. There is no way to escape having ill health.
• I am of the nature to die. There is no way to escape death.
• All that is dear to me and everyone I love are of the nature to change. There is no way to escape being separated from them.
• My actions are my only true belongings. I cannot escape the consequences of my actions. My actions are the ground upon which I stand.

“All that we are is the result of what we have thought: its is founded on our thoughts, it is made up of our thoughts. If a man speaks or acts with a pure thought, happiness follows him, like a shadow that never leaves him.”
-Buddha

Taoism: Flowing with Life Through Wu Wei (Effortless Action)

“The way never acts, yet nothing is left undone.”
— Tao Te Ching

Raise your hand if you can relate. You find yourself at a crossroads. Instead of picking a path, you agonize over making the ‘perfect’ choice, fearing that any mistake will ruin your future. Endless deliberation leaves you paralyzed by indecision. The harder you try to control the outcome, the more stuck you feel.

Consider looking at life through the lens of Wu Wei, the Taoist philosophy of ‘non-doing’.

To those unfamiliar with its nuances, Wu Wei seems paradoxical. One might object that it is impossible to get anything done if we don’t do anything. But this is an incorrect interpretation. Wu Wei is not about ‘non-action’, but instead ‘effortless action.’ It is about letting go of the rigid control that we try to force onto situations in order to fit a preconceived outcome in our mind. When we try to force things, we become angry, frustrated, anxious, or disappointed. Wu Wei teaches us to behave more like water. By responding fluidly and with clear sight, we act in tune with the natural demands of what lies in front of us.

Instead of obsessing over which path to take at the crossroads, listen to your intuition and trust whatever decision you make. Know that you can adapt along the way. In fact, you must be willing to adapt—as life is fluid and change is inevitable. One more reason why it makes little sense to put so much weight upon one decision out of many.

Wu Wei is about achieving a state of effortless skill. It is about being at peace while engaged in even the most demanding tasks. When we are tapped into the unselfconscious state of mind, proper behavior flows naturally, without overthinking or force.

The philosophy of Wu Wei is a result of the Taoist reverence for the natural world. Taoism (or Daoism) is an ancient Chinese philosophical and spiritual tradition, rooted in the teachings of Laozi’s Tao Te Ching and later expanded by thinkers like Zhuangzi. It is believed to have been in practice since at least the 4th century BCE. At its core, Taoism is about living in harmony with the Tao, or “the Way.” The Tao is simultaneously the fundamental essence and the natural flow of the universe.

Human intelligence contains more than just purely rational thought. Ancient Taoists intuitively grasped what modern neuroscience has only recently been able to confirm: our minds operate with two cognitive systems—intuitive and analytical. Intuitive cognition is fast, effortless, and automatic. Analytical cognition is slow, deliberate, and requires mental tension. It most often takes the form of the active voices in our heads. Over-relying on the latter—forcing rational control—often backfires. Whether it’s an athlete choking under pressure or an insomniac straining to sleep, the paradox is clear: sometimes, trying too hard makes success impossible.

Western society seems to have an allergic reaction to the idea of being automatic or spontaneous. We raise our children in increasingly structured environments. Instead of time to play, they are subjected to rigorous testing, strict schedules, drowning levels of homework, and demanding after-school activities—the strain of which can be felt from the athlete to the mathlete. The result is a conditioning for a brutal sort of competitiveness that begins as early as preschool in some cases, and continues throughout our adult lives.

We are ‘encouraged’ to be more efficient, more productive, and more on-call in our work lives. The smartphone has us tethered to forces which erode our leisure time without shame—with endless emails, texts, calls, and notifications. Instead of relaxing into the natural flow of unstructured pleasures, we find our day-to-day moments consumed, our attention constantly being coerced back toward the glow of LCD screens.

Those of us who live in societies which are heirs to the Western philosophical tradition are taught that rationality rules above all, and we must subdue our bodies through the will power of our conscious minds. Ancient Chinese Taoists were suspicious of this form of forced striving.

Practitioners of Wu Wei experience a loss of self-consciousness, which fosters a feeling of unity with one’s environment. There is harmony, and immersion into a meaningful and shared whole. Our natural state as living creatures is not one of solitary, materialistic, hyper-capitalist super soldiers. We are social animals. And we often forget that it is not our ability to compute precise calculations, mitigate productivity errors, or invest in the stock market that makes large-scale societies function. The most fundamental truth is that all of this works because we are emotionally bound to one another.

Instead of pushing yourself past the point of exhaustion with constant effort at work, recognize the natural cycles of focus and recovery. If we ignore the importance of rest, we slide into burnout. The effect is that working too hard ironically harms productivity.

If you are the type of person who tries to control every aspect of your relationships, stressing about whether people like you, or overanalyzing your partner’s words and forcing conversations to go a certain way, you will succeed only at creating tension instead of genuine connection. Rather than controlling relationships, let them develop organically. This will foster deeper connections that flow with ease and are built on a foundation of authenticity.

Perhaps you find yourself sitting in front of a blank page, growing frustrated as you try to force a creative idea to come. You are neglecting to allow space for inspiration to flow naturally. Instead, take a walk, listen to music, or do something unrelated. Trust that ideas will come when the time is right.

The Ancient Taoists engaged in practices like water calligraphy and rock gardening to develop their sense of Wu Wei. While these are beautiful traditions which have their place, luckily, there are also a few modern equivalents that we can more easily apply to our own lives:

• Unplug and Observe: Shut down your computer. Turn off your phone and leave it in a drawer. Go outside and take a walk. Notice the sights and sounds around you. Your mind will probably try to distract you with a million thoughts. That’s okay. Just come back to the present moment when you notice this. The more often you do it, the easier it becomes.
• Listen Fully: Engage in conversations without planning your response. Truly hear what others are saying. Listen completely. This will strengthen your patience and mindfulness.
• Engage in Creative Flow: Painting, drawing, or any creative activity helps develop Wu Wei by immersing you in effortless action. You might know Wu Wei by its modern name: the ‘flow state’.

Wu Wei isn’t about giving up or being lazy. It is not about inaction, but ‘proper action.’ Each of us contains a natural inner beauty, and this beauty is more intelligent than surface-level human thought.

A good life isn’t achieved by Wu Wei alone, but this Taoist wisdom reminds us that excessive striving and rigid control can do more harm than good. By flowing with life instead of against it, we will find greater peace, balance, and a sense of fulfillment.

Zen: Embracing Simplicity and the Present Moment

“The finger pointing at the moon is not the moon.”
– Zen Proverb

Zen is fascinating because its creation is the result of Buddhism having come into contact with Taoism. Their influence on each other blossomed into something new. While Zen is a form of Buddhism, it is strikingly different from the branches that came before it.

The version of Buddhism which adheres most closely to the earliest practices of Buddha’s disciples is Theravada Buddhism. A later incarnation of Buddhism developed as it came into contact with Hinduism. This is known as Mahayana Buddhism, and what sets it apart is its incorporation of Hindu gods and scriptures into its teachings. Mahayana has many rituals and practices, and it is sometimes as ornate as Zen Buddhism is austere.

It was Mahayana Buddhism that first came to China from India. According to legend, it was brought over during the 6th century by an Indian monk named Bodhidharma. As this new religion spread throughout China, it became more and more influenced by Taoist principles such as spontaneity and simplicity. This blend of ideas led to the creation of Chan Buddhism, which strips away much of the pageantry of the Mahayana and Theravada traditions. By the 12th century, Chan had spread to Japan, where it further evolved into Zen Buddhism (Zen is the Japanese word for Chan).

Zen’s strong Taoist influences decrease the emphasis on rituals, mantras, logic, or scriptures and focus instead on living in harmony with nature and the present moment. Zen is not about intellectual understanding but rather direct experience. It emphasizes being over knowing, simplicity over complexity, and presence over distraction.

Think about it. The last time you had breakfast, were you paying attention to what you were eating? Or were you instead immersing yourself in the numerous distractions available to us? Television, conversation, scrolling on the phone, or even reading a book or magazine are all common pairings with a meal. Did you notice the flavors of your food? For most of us, it is normal to favor instant distraction over presence and appreciation of even a simple task like eating.

If you were a practitioner of Zen, you might have found yourself being fully present with the task at hand, focusing on each bite, appreciating the texture, aroma, and taste of your breakfast. Zen eschews multitasking as a form of over-productive mania. Single-tasking is key. And with it, an ordinary meal becomes a moment of mindfulness rather than a rushed obligation.

Zen is minimalist. It teaches that enlightenment cannot be explained, only experienced. If enlightenment is the moon, then Zen, or any teaching for that matter, can only be the finger pointing at the moon. It is a signpost signifying the path ahead, not the path itself.

At the heart of Zen is Zazen, or seated meditation. It is a practice of stillness and awareness, where one simply sits, breathes, and observes thoughts without attachment. The goal is to become present, which is the state of mind required for illumination. This is the essence of Zazen, and it can be done by anyone, at any time. As with all things Zen, its beauty is in its simplicity.

While Theravada Buddhism teaches that enlightenment is attained gradually, often over multiple lifetimes via reincarnation of the spirit, Zen refers to enlightenment as Satori, a moment of sudden awakening. A direct, immediate realization of truth.

Not only is it immediate, but it is said that it comes at the most ordinary times, and is not limited to moments of deep meditation. There have been claims of monks achieving enlightenment while washing dishes. Every action is an opportunity for mindfulness. Eating, working, walking, even using the restroom are seen as forms of practice. Zen transforms the ordinary into the extraordinary through complete presence.

Though Zen stresses that enlightenment cannot be taught, it still emphasizes the importance of direct transmission of wisdom from teacher to student. This is very much in line with the Zen philosophy that the direct personal experience of a teacher is far more important than any stricture or scholarly study.

Like Taoism, Zen deals in paradoxes. Transmitting knowledge to students often relies on “wordless understanding.” Teachers also emphasize koans—paradoxical riddles designed to break habitual thinking and spark sudden insight. A classic example of a koan is: “What is the sound of one hand clapping?” The goal is not to answer logically but to transcend conventional patterns of thought towards something more abstract and indescribable.

Consider these examples, where, according to Zen, enlightenment can be found in everyday moments:

Without the incorporation of Zen, you may find yourself worried about an upcoming decision. You ruminate over endless “what if” scenarios in your head. Even during your leisure time, your mind is elsewhere. With a Zen mindset, you acknowledge your worries, but with a practiced level of detachment, you let them pass. You return to the present, focusing on what actions can be taken now, rather than obsessing over an uncertain future.

Or perhaps someone cuts you off in traffic. Rather than letting your anger flare, you notice the feeling while choosing not to cling to it. You take a deep breath and acknowledge the moment, moving on without resentment.

The next time you find yourself standing in a long line at the grocery store, resist the urge to become frustrated with the time being wasted. Avoid pulling out your phone to distract you from the discomfort. Instead, observe your surroundings without impatience. Use this as an opportunity to become present. Feel the weight of items in your hand. Take notice of the rhythm of people’s movements. Who knows? You may even experience a sudden moment of Satori while scanning your produce.

Zen invites us to slow down, take notice, and be present. In a world obsessed with productivity, Zen reminds us that true fulfillment comes not from doing more, but from fully engaging with what is already here. By shifting from doing to being, we unlock a deeper, more effortless way of living.