The Noise of Modern Life
We’re living in an era where the five colors don’t just blind the eye — they scroll endlessly across our screens. The five tones are not ancient pentatonic scales, but algorithmically selected audio bites designed to grab attention, sell product, or shape opinion. The five flavors? Over-salted, over-sweetened, engineered for addiction.

(image: The Street, 1916, Max Beckmann, Artist, German, 1884 - 1950)

Lately, I’ve been thinking about how to stay grounded and present in the midst of everything happening around us—especially in the U.S. political climate right now. The tension, polarization, and constant stream of information can feel overwhelming. Like many of you, I care deeply. But I also notice how easy it is to get pulled into reactivity, fear, or fatigue.

(image: The Rapids, Hudson River, Adirondacks, 1894, Winslow Homer)

In Taoist thought, nothing in nature forces itself.
The oak doesn’t rush its growth. The river doesn’t try to be strong—it simply flows, finding the lowest places and nourishing everything along the way.

(image: The machine man (1925), Albert Daenens (Belgian, 1883-1952)

In Western thinking, we often treat the body like a machine—something to be diagnosed, repaired, and optimized. But Classical Chinese Medicine offers an entirely different metaphor: the body as landscape—living, relational, seasonal.

(image: Autumn River (秋江), 1998, Mo Ce 莫测, Chinese, born 1928)

In a culture shaped by doing, Taoism quietly asks us: What if you allowed yourself to be moved instead of always moving?

(image: Winding Path to Seclusion (Qujing tongyou) 1998, Li Shaoyan)

We live in a culture obsessed with self-improvement. Scroll a social feed for five minutes and you’ll find a dozen ways to be more efficient, more productive, more healed, more enlightened—to be your Best Self! There’s always a new hack, a better mindset, a next step.