…….at times it’s hard not to worry about what’s presently happening in our world. Turn on the news, scroll your feed, stand in line at the grocery store—there’s a low-frequency hum of anxiety everywhere.
Authoritarian thunderclouds moving in. Economic dominoes wobbling. Social fabric fraying at the seams. I’d be lying if I said I don’t feel it in my body—tight in the chest, clenching the jaw, bracing for the next hit of whatever fresh absurdity rolls our way.
But I’ve also come to realize this: Worrying isn’t the problem. It’s what we do with it that matters. And that’s where the Tao—and specifically the I Ching—has saved my peace more times than I can count.
The I Ching, or Book of Changes, isn’t some dusty relic from ancient China that’s only good for fortune-telling at candlelit parties. It’s a living, breathing, shape-shifting mirror. It doesn’t promise certainty. It teaches how to live within uncertainty—how to surf the chaos instead of being swallowed by it.
Highly Recommend I-Ching Cafe 👇
This isn’t abstract philosophy to me. It’s muscle memory at this point. When the outer world feels unhinged, I turn inward and cast the I Ching like dropping a stone into still water. I don’t ask it to tell me what’s going to happen. I ask it to tell me who I need to be.
Just the other morning, when the news made me want to scream into a pillow or move to Iceland, I rolled my coins, took a breath, and asked the I Ching, “How do I move through this anxious world without losing myself?”
Here’s what came back:
Hexagram 61 – Inner Truth
Changing lines leading to:
Hexagram 24 – Return (The Turning Point)
At first, I chuckled. Not a belly laugh—more of that quiet, cosmic “of course” kind of laugh.
Inner Truth says: Stop chasing the noise. Turn inward. Align with your core. If your inner self is steady, no outer storm can knock you off course. That hit hard. I’ve always known that worry multiplies when I get too invested in external outcomes. Politics. Markets. Social media meltdowns.
But the line that truly stopped me was this: “The superior person weighs words and remains calm.”
That’s when I realized—my job isn’t to fix the world. It’s to show up with integrity, breath, and presence.
And then came Return— one of my favorite hexagrams. The prodigal son of the soul’s journey. A whisper to come home. Not to the way things used to be, but to who I’ve always been beneath the chaos. The Taoist within. The one who knows how to float.
That reading didn’t give me a playbook. It gave me a center. It reminded me that stillness is a power move. That pausing before reacting is a radical act in an age of reactivity.
And it got me thinking, “what if worry isn’t something to banish, but a signal that we’re out of alignment?”
The Tao doesn’t fight worry. It doesn’t shame fear. It observes it. Lets it pass through like the weather.
Because everything—everything—is part of the flow. Authoritarians. The anxiety. Cranky friends. A deep breath after a good cry. Rallies with AOC and Bernie. It’s all the Tao, moving in rhythm.
What the I Ching teaches me again and again is this….. every condition contains its opposite. In fear, there’s the seed of courage. In collapse, there’s the root of rebirth. The only mistake is to cling too tightly to anything—especially your worries.
Taoist thought doesn’t ask us to be indifferent or naive. It asks us to detach from the results. It doesn’t mean we don’t care. It means we care enough to stay grounded while the world flips out.
I’ve learned to ride the wave, not because I’m enlightened, but because I’m tired of being yanked around by the undertow.
When I get overwhelmed, I breathe. I stretch. I walk along a majestic path. I chop vegetables slowly. I open the I Ching like a friend who doesn’t give advice but knows how to speak in riddles that somehow always make sense in my bones.
I’m not saying this way is easy. But it’s lighter. It’s softer. And it leaves room for joy—even now.
Especially now.
Because maybe this season of uncertainty is an initiation. A turning point. An invitation to practice radical presence, deep listening, and unshakeable softness in a world that rewards tension.
So if you’re feeling the ache of it all—if the headlines have got you questioning your sanity, your savings, or the state of humanity—I get it.
But maybe, just maybe, you’re not breaking down.
Maybe you’re breaking open.
And the I Ching? It’s just there to hold the mirror.
If the Daily Chocolate Taoist nomadic wisdom lights up your day, fuels your mind, or gives you a fresh perspective, I’d love your support as a paid member!
I’m committed to delivering high-quality, thought-provoking features straight to your inbox—no paywalls, no fluff, just raw, unfiltered wisdom on what it means to be human in today’s paradoxical, mysterious, and uncertain world.
Your support fuels my full-time mission, and I appreciate every single contribution. Let’s keep this energy going!
I've gotten Return a couple of times in the last year. I always see it as reassuring.
Return is a reminder to return, to look inward and to remain true to what I know about myself.
If there's an area that I'm neglecting, however, it’s another invitation for self-reflection.
It’s all out there — energectically, it can feel that way at times. But, that’s when we need to step back.
Tuning into what’s inside is ultimately more important.
I can't turn down the volume outside. I can only do that within myself. I remind myself to tune the volume down.
Thank you for the reminder.
I have my anxiety and my fears. But, then I have to ask myself, for what purpose?
What purpose does this serve if it doesn't offer me a sense of inner peace of freedom?
"It doesn’t mean we don’t care. It means we care enough to stay grounded while the world flips out." - Truth