There’s a certain primal panic that hits when your devices go dark.
This past weekend, both my iPad and phone were refusing to charge. The symbols of my digital lifeblood—flickering screens, glowing icons, satisfying chimes were gone.
In their place was a cold, ominous silence. At first, I did the logical thing: checked the plug, adjusted the cable, even tried a little tech voodoo. Nothing. And like any self-respecting modern human, I immediately assumed the worst.
The battery’s gone.
The iPad’s too old.
I’ll have to buy a new one.
This is a disaster.
I’m cut off from the world. From productivity. From life itself.
In a matter of minutes, my mind had written a twelve-chapter epic of digital doom. What started as a simple inconvenience ballooned into a full-blown existential crisis.
Rumination and the Restless Mind
Our thinking minds are master dramatists. In the Tao Te Ching, Lao Tzu warns us: “The more you know, the less you understand.” And in moments like these, we understand all too well how our accumulated thoughts only entangle us further.
Instead of simply observing the situation, I let my mind run wild—spinning stories, fearing loss, catastrophizing like the sky was falling.
In the Bhagavad Gita, Krishna teaches Arjuna that suffering arises not from circumstances, but from our attachment to outcomes. My attachment? Staying connected. Staying plugged in. Staying in control.
For a few hours, I wasn’t in control at all. And maybe that was the point.
Enter: Random Co-Creation
Then came the unexpected pivot. I caught myself in the downward spiral and asked: What if I just… let go?
I had no digital distractions. No escape hatch. No way to Google my way out. And so, I surrendered—not out of enlightened wisdom, but sheer exhaustion.
I refer to this as a state of random co-creation, a kind of improvisational dance with the universe where you set yourself in motion without attachment to where you’ll land. Like water, you flow toward the next step without resistance.
I got dressed. Grabbed my bag. Headed out to get a new cord. No plan, no agenda, just allowing what needed to unfold… to unfold.
The Power Cord Revelation
It wasn’t until I was standing in the store that I thought: What if the cord itself is the issue?
And of course, it was.
Not the battery. Not the device. Not the end of my digital age. Just a worn-out cord that had quietly given up the ghost. When I plugged the new one in, everything came back to life. Devices reawakened. Connectivity resumed. All was well.
But I was no longer the same.
Lessons from the I Ching: Hexagram 29 – The Abysmal
The I Ching speaks of times when we feel as though we are in the pit—no clear path, just danger all around. Hexagram 29, The Abysmal, teaches that these are not times to push or panic, but to develop inner truth and practice repetition of correct action.
The solution to my problem was not to force or to fret but to return to stillness, act with presence, and trust the unfolding. As Lao Tzu says, “Do you have the patience to wait until your mud settles and the water is clear?” That morning, I didn’t. But by afternoon, I did.
From Crisis to Clarity
The episode reminded me how quickly we build walls of worry with bricks made of thought. We assign meaning to every hiccup. We dramatize the ordinary. But in the quiet space between annoyance and action lies a well of wisdom.
The Bhagavad Gita encourages us to “act without attachment to the fruits of action.” That includes the fruit of control, certainty, and always knowing what’s going wrong. We don’t always need to know. Sometimes we just need to trust.
A New Lens for Daily Life
What other situations in our lives are just “power cord problems” in disguise?
We assume the relationship is over. The dream is dead. The job has hit a wall. But maybe the issue is something smaller, simpler, easier to replace than we think.
Here’s what I learned—and what I invite you to try:
Pause before reacting. Annoyance is a signal. Not a mandate.
Challenge your narrative. Are you writing fiction or facts?
Try random co-creation. Let go of linear thinking. Set yourself in motion.
Trust the Tao. The Tao doesn’t rush, yet everything is accomplished.
Final Charge
In the end, a $20 power cord offered more than electricity—it offered perspective.
Sometimes, enlightenment doesn’t come in a temple or on a retreat. It comes in a Best Buy checkout line, holding a cord you wish you’d tested sooner.
So the next time you’re thrown off by something small, ask yourself: Is this the end of the world… or just a frayed cable?
Let it go. Breathe. And let the Tao do its thing.
You just might find that the power you were missing wasn’t in the cord after all. It was in your capacity to be still, to observe, and to laugh at yourself. That’s the real charge.
Hey, if you’re digging the Daily Chocolate Taoist vibe, then consider becoming a $6.00/month or $60.00/year member supporter to help keep this full-time indie writer caffeinated and creating. And if you’re feeling a little mischievous, feel free to toss in a bit of dirty chai latte fuel into the mix. Because every sip of my favorite drink will help to keep my Taoist adventure rolling.
Diamond Michael Scott — aka The Chocolate Taoist
Your ability to hear the call to challenge and weave a lesson from a "modern world" annoyance is powerful and also hilarious. I'm curious about the I Ching. There are themes that echo the Runes but I have not yet been exposed otherwise. Thank you!
“The solution to my problem was not to force or to fret but to return to stillness, act with presence, and trust the unfolding.”
Ahh. The simplest of acts. Yet the mind wrestles with itself over what it knows is best for it but doesn’t want to submit to. Such a great statement. And post! Thanks brother.