Finding the Way Through Chaos: A Taoist Response to Political Stress

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.

So, I wanted to share some thoughts—not as answers, but as reflections based on how I’m trying to be with this time, move through it, and remain in the flow. Taoist philosophy has been a steadying influence in my life, and it continues to offer a quiet kind of salve for moments like these.

Returning to the Way

At the heart of Taoism is the concept of the Tao—often translated as “the Way.” It isn’t something we control or master, but something we attune to. It’s the quiet rhythm of life itself: the changing seasons, the breath of the forest, the movement of a river finding its course. According to the Tao Te Ching, we suffer most when we try to resist the natural flow—when we grasp, force, or cling in fear.

Our culture—especially in times of political unrest—encourages the opposite. Push harder. Speak louder. Stay on high alert. But the Tao offers another path: the practice of wu wei or non-doing—not inaction, but a kind of effortlessness that comes from harmony rather than discord.

I’m trying to ask myself more often: Where am I pushing upstream? Can I soften into the current, even while staying aware?

The Practice of Non-Reactivity

One of the most helpful teachings Taoism has offered me lately is the reminder to pause.

When I'm pulled toward outrage, doom-scrolling, or the urge to argue, Taoism says: breathe. Step back. Let your nervous system settle before you move or speak.

“The wise are not reactive,” says the Tao Te Ching, “but responsive like water—yielding, yet powerful.”

This means choosing when and how I take in news. It means anchoring myself in practices that restore perspective—whether it’s journaling, time in nature, movement, or simply silence. It’s from this space that I’m more able to respond—not from panic or despair, but from grounded presence.

Embracing Paradox

An endearing aspect of Taoism is its comfort with paradox. Soft is strong. Yielding is resilient. Emptiness is full. In a culture that often flattens everything into binaries—left vs. right, good vs. evil—Taoist wisdom invites us to stay open to complexity.

When I find myself taking sides, or feeling locked in opposition, I try to remember: the Tao is always holding the whole. Yin and yang are not enemies—they are complementary expressions of the same whole.

That doesn’t mean I agree with everything or everyone. But it helps me practice a deeper kind of seeing. One that’s not about being right, but about being real. And compassionate.

Inner Cultivation as Political Grounding

A core truth in Taoist thought is that the world begins within. We may not be able to change systems overnight, but we can cultivate clarity, steadiness, and integrity in ourselves.

The more I return to my own center, the more I find I can engage without being consumed. I don’t think that means detaching from the world. Quite the opposite—it means showing up with a clearer heart and a steadier hand.

And some days, that’s enough.

Let the World Be the World

One of my favorite passages from the Tao Te Ching says:

“The world is ruled by letting things take their course. It cannot be ruled by interfering.”

For me, this isn’t about giving up—it’s about letting go of the illusion of control. It’s remembering that we are part of something vast and mysterious. That while we act, vote, speak, and serve—we can also trust. We can rest. We can remember the Tao is moving, even when we can’t see the whole picture.

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I offer these thoughts not as a prescription, but as a companion. A reflection of how I’m trying to live with more ease and integrity in uncertain times.

The Tao reminds me: we don’t have to hold it all. We just have to walk the Way, one moment at a time.

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Welcome to the Practice

I named my coaching practice Cultivate because that’s what growth really is—slow, seasonal, relational. It’s not a race. It’s a rhythm.

Thank you for being here.

More soon.

-- Robert Baggett, M. Dip. Ac., CLC