riding tandem with the flow of the universe…..

……here’s what i discovered.

Stress and I have had a long and tumultuous relationship, much like the kind of romance you know you should end but keep entertaining because of its twisted allure.

Picture this: I’m in my twenties and thirties, supposedly wise and composed, yet occasionally caught in the quicksand of extreme stress—sweaty palms, a racing heart, and thoughts bouncing like popcorn in a microwave.

It’s absurd, really. Why would anyone willingly tango with such chaos? That’s precisely the question I began asking myself as I embarked on a journey to steer clear of stress at all costs.

The Taoist philosophy of Wu Wei entered my life like a Zen whisper. Imagine this: life as a tandem bike ride with the universe. You’re in the front seat, but instead of gripping the handlebars in white-knuckled terror, you relax, letting the Tao, or the natural flow of life, guide you.

Pedal when the road inclines, coast when it slopes downhill, and let go of the need to control every twist and turn. That’s Wu Wei—the art of effortless action. It’s not laziness but a radical trust in the rhythms of the universe, a belief that struggling against the current only tires you out and gets you nowhere.

I’ve become obsessed with this idea. Why sprint through life like a hamster on a wheel when you could glide like a swan on a serene lake?

To my horror, however, I discovered that Wu Wei is easier said than done, particularly when life throws curveballs like looming deadlines, unexpected bills, or when a store clerk who seems allergic to assisting customers.

Stress, it seems, is hardwired into us for survival. But while our ancestors needed a healthy dose of adrenaline to outrun sabertooth tigers, I doubt they’d recognize my existential dread over email backlogs as a life-or-death scenario.

And yet, the body reacts the same way. Cortisol levels spike, and suddenly, my quest for harmony feels like trying to meditate in a rock concert mosh pit.

So how do we escape this modern-day madness? Enter resilience, the unsung hero of the stress saga. Resilience is like a well-sprung trampoline: the higher life’s challenges try to throw you down, the higher you can bounce back.

It’s the capacity to prepare for, recover from, and adapt in the face of adversity. Resilience doesn’t mean dodging stress altogether but managing it with the finesse of a tightrope walker.

For me, resilience looks like doubling down on small, consistent habits that bring me back to homeostasis—the sweet spot where my mind, body, and spirit operate in harmony.

Taoism sees this balance as akin to being in flow, rhythm, and coherence with the universe. Think of it like tuning a guitar: when the strings are taut but not too tight, they produce music instead of chaos.

My go-to strategies for cultivating resilience are laughably simple.

First, I’ve mastered the art of saying “no” to things that disrupt my inner peace. Second, I practice the sacred act of doing absolutely nothing, otherwise known as Taoist meditation.

In stillness, I observe my breath, my thoughts, and the gentle hum of life’s machinery. It’s less about emptying the mind and more about recalibrating it, like restarting a glitchy computer.

Of course, the world doesn’t stop throwing wrenches your way just because you’ve decided to chill out. That’s where Wu Wei becomes more than a philosophy—it’s a practice.

Instead of resisting the wrenches, I’ve learned to sidestep them or incorporate them into the dance. When life insists on chaos, I respond with grace. When it asks for effort, I give it wholeheartedly, but no more than is necessary.

The result? More often than not, I find myself in a state of flow—pedaling tandem with the Tao, no longer sweating the small stuff. Extreme stress may occasionally rear its ugly head, but instead of engaging with it, I wave at it from a distance like an acquaintance I’d rather not chat with at the grocery store.

Life, I’ve learned, doesn’t need to be a battle. It can be a dance, a ride, a journey where the aim isn’t control but harmony. And that, perhaps, is the greatest resilience of all: not fighting the current, but finding joy in the ride.

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Diamond- Michael Scott — aka The Chocolate Taoist