It seems like all the rage these days is with the word “boundaries.” Entire shelves in bookstores are filled with titles teaching you to “set hard boundaries,” “defend your boundaries,” and “build better fences.”
But here’s the rub: when you turn a boundary into a fortress, you risk walling yourself off from the very life that’s trying to reach you.
Taoism gives us a different metaphor in the form of boundaries as rivers. They are invisible until you stumble into them. They shift, flood, dry up, and change course without warning. They are neither enemies nor allies. They simply flow and could care less if you approve of their route.
When I Stepped Into the River
I’ve felt these invisible rivers shape my life over and over again. The most defining moment came when I left the world of healthcare HR after 10 years. Everyone I knew thought I was crazy. I had a secure job, a good salary, a network of colleagues, and a life most would call “stable.” But stability can be a golden cage. I felt like a river was roaring just outside my window, calling me to leave yet I was terrified.
Finally, I jumped. It wasn’t graceful. It was messy, emotional, and full of doubt. But once I was in, the current grabbed me and carried me out West into a life I never could have engineered. I became a writer and a nomadic soul. I discovered freedom I didn’t know I was craving. That leap was my initiation into the Taoist truth that rivers are not barriers. They are invitations.
Zhuangzi’s Swimmer and the Taoist Dare
The ancient Taoist sage Zhuangzi tells a story about a man who dives into the furious waters of a waterfall. The crowd gasps as they surmise that surely he will drown. But a few moments later, he surfaces downstream, smiling and unscathed. When asked how he survived, he replies, “I go down with the swirls and come up with the eddies. I follow the way of the water and do not impose myself upon it.”
That story has haunted me for years. It is not a sweet bedtime story but a dare. Can you, too, let go of the death grip you have on the bank? Can you trust that the water will hold you even when it looks like it will destroy you?
This is not passive surrender. It is skillful participation. It is daring to live in such a way that you let the river teach you where you end and where you are meant to flow.
Boundaries as Electric Currents
When I was a kid in Columbus, Ohio, my mom took my brother and me to COSI, the Center of Science and Industry. My favorite exhibit was always the electric eel tank. I’d stand there, wide-eyed, as the eel pulsed invisible shocks through the water. It didn’t roar or thrash to make its presence known. It simply radiated its power.
Our boundaries can be like that in the form of quiet, powerful currents that shape how we are experienced. When I learned to send those subtle “pulses” in my relationships and work, I no longer needed to scream or overexplain. I didn’t have to build a dam or a fence. My invisible rivers spoke for me.
The Contrarian Take: Stop Worshipping “Hard” Boundaries
Here’s where I might ruffle some feathers: I think our culture has gone a little overboard with “hard boundaries.” The internet tells us to cut off anyone who drains us, block that person who annoys us, or ghost those who cross an invisible line.
Sure, sometimes you need a firm “no.” But life is not a courtroom where you defend your perimeter at all costs. It’s a river system.
Rivers don’t say, “No entry, trespassers will be prosecuted.” They just flow. If something doesn’t belong, it’s eventually carried downstream. Taoism dares us to be fluid, not rigid. To let people cross and recross our rivers, sometimes even muddying them, because that is how we grow. Rigidity is a false sense of control. Fluidity is freedom.
Living The Winding Path
Now living in Fort Collins, Colorado, I see clearly how the river of my life has curved and doubled back, sometimes sweeping me into unexpected friendships, projects, and detours that felt like disasters at first but later proved essential. Each bend smoothed another rough edge of who I thought I was. Taoism calls this wu wei, namely, effortless action, or aligning with the natural flow rather than fighting it.
I notice that when I cling too hard, I suffer. When I let go, I am carried somewhere bigger than my imagination. I no longer see boundaries as what I must defend but as the banks that keep me moving toward my own ocean.
Stop Building Dams
That’s the real challenge: stop building dams around your life. Stop pretending that walls will save you. What they really do is stop the natural flow that could transform you. The river of life is not here to drown you. It’s here to move you —- to carve your character, teach you rhythm, and deliver you to a larger sea.
The next time you feel the pressure of a boundary, don’t reinforce it. Step closer. Listen for the sound of rushing water. Ask what it wants to teach you.
Because here’s the rebellious truth: the river is never really your enemy. The only enemy is your refusal to trust it.
Journaling Prompts for Riding the Current
Where in your life have you been building dams instead of letting the river move?
Recall a time when you were swept into change against your will but later saw it as a gift. What did it reveal about your capacity to trust?
Imagine yourself as Zhuangzi’s swimmer in the waterfall. What part of your life right now feels like the roaring water? How might you “go down with the swirls” instead of fighting?
Where do you need to send quiet, electric signals instead of shouting to be understood?
If you trusted that the river knows where it’s going, what action (or inaction) would you take today?
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Diamond-Michael Scott aka The Chocolate Taoist