For a good part of my life, I found myself caught in a never-ending audition for a part I didn’t even want. I’d spent years performing roles I didn’t write, reciting lines someone else handed me, and wondering why the applause always felt hollow.
The questions of identity—Who am I? Who am I not? Who do I hope to become?—haunted me, as if I were a protagonist in an existential sitcom without a laugh track.
Spoiler alert: The script was garbage, and firing the director (aka everyone else’s opinions) was the best decision I ever made.
What I discovered along the way is that at my core, my essence is defined by three values: expansion, human connection, and freedom. These are my North Stars, my philosophical GPS, the Taoist yin-yang trifecta that keeps me centered and inspired.
But the journey to uncover these truths wasn’t some tidy hero’s journey. It was messy, hilarious, and deeply humbling—a masterclass in letting go of who I thought I should be.
Expansion: Chasing the Infinite
If I had a nickel for every time someone told me to “stay in my lane,” I’d have enough to buy my own highway. Expansion, for me, is about rejecting limits—not in some manic hustle-culture way, but in the Taoist sense of flowing with life’s endless possibilities.
For me the Tao isn’t a rigid map; it’s an open invitation to wander and explore.
I used to think that expansion was all about achievement. Climb the ladder, collect the accolades, rinse, repeat.
But what I’ve come to understand is that true expansion is internal. It’s about stretching the boundaries of my mind, my heart, and my spirit.
It’s about having the audacity to learn qigong one month, dive into philosophy the next, and then obsess over how Taoism intersects with Bitcoin.
Yes, I’m weird—and it’s glorious.
Taoism teaches us to be like water, adaptable and uncontained. That’s my expansion ethos: I’m not trying to fit into anyone’s cup. I’m the whole damn river.
Human Connection: The Joy of Being Seen
There’s a peculiar irony in being obsessed with human connection. For a long time, I thought I was bad at it—awkward, overly earnest, or just plain misunderstood.
But Taoism showed me that connection isn’t about performing or impressing. It’s about authenticity, about showing up as yourself and letting the chips (or opinions) fall where they may.
I used to chase connection like it was a scarce resource, believing I had to earn it through charm, success, or some elaborate social dance. Now, I realize it’s less about trying and more about allowing.
When I stopped pretending to be what I thought others wanted, the right people started showing up—people who resonated with my quirks, my humor, and my obsession with existential rabbit holes.
The Taoist principle of wu wei, or effortless action, applies here. Connection isn’t forced; it’s a natural outcome of being true to yourself. When you’re authentic, you don’t have to chase your tribe—they’ll find you in the same way rivers find the ocean.
Freedom: The Art of Letting Go
Freedom, to me, is less about rebellion and more about release. It’s the liberation that comes when you stop trying to control the uncontrollable—other people’s opinions, the chaos of life, the ticking clock of societal expectations.
Taoism is a freedom manifesto disguised as a philosophy. It teaches us to let go of attachment, whether it’s to outcomes, possessions, or identities.
I’ve spent far too much of my life shackled by labels: the Nice Guy, the Overachiever, the People Pleaser. Dropping those identities wasn’t easy. They felt safe, even if they were suffocating. But once I released them, I could finally breathe.
Freedom is also about choice. It’s about choosing your own path, even if it’s unconventional or contrarian. My path involves writing provocative essays, practicing qigong, and dreaming about what Taoism could teach the digital age. It’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but that’s the point—it’s mine.
The Delight of Knowing Who You Are
Here’s the best part of all this soul-searching: I finally know who I am, and it feels amazing. It’s not some grand, final revelation, but a quiet confidence in my essence.
Expansion, connection, and freedom—they’re not just abstract values; they’re the pillars of my existence. They guide my decisions, my relationships, and my purpose.
I used to envy people who seemed to have it all figured out, but now I realize they were probably faking it. The truth is, discovering who you are is a lifelong process. It’s not about arriving at some definitive answer but embracing the questions and evolving with them.
Is Obsession the Key to Dharma?
One thing I’ve learned is that obsession isn’t a bad thing—it’s a compass pointing you toward your dharma, your unique purpose. My obsession with Taoism, philosophy, and connection isn’t a distraction; it’s a calling. It’s what makes me different, and it’s what makes my life meaningful.
Taoism teaches us to honor our nature, to flow with it rather than resist it. My nature is expansive, curious, and fiercely independent. I’m not here to fit in; I’m here to expand, connect, and be free. And that’s more than enough.
So, who am I? I’m a work in progress, a Taoist wanderer, and a lover of paradox. Who am I not? I’m not anyone else’s expectation. And who do I hope to become? More me, every single day.
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Diamond Michael Scott — aka The Chocolate Taoist
I love this so much and can relate. I often say that I'm a work in progress. And I'm so happy you know who you are and that you're sharing all the parts of you here on Substack. It's a win/win.
We should ask ourselves daily who we are?