(Those who) possessed in highest degree the attributes (of the Tao) did not (seek) to show them, and therefore they possessed them (in fullest measure). (Those who) possessed in a lower degree those attributes (sought how) not to lose them, and therefore they did not possess them (in fullest measure). (Those who) possessed in the highest degree those attributes did nothing (with a purpose), and had no need to do anything. (Those who) possessed them in a lower degree were (always) doing, and had need to be so doing. (Those who) possessed the highest benevolence were (always seeking) to carry it out, and had no need to be doing so. (Those who) possessed the highest righteousness were (always seeking) to carry it out, and had need to be so doing. (Those who) possessed the highest (sense of) propriety were (always seeking) to show it, and when men did not respond to it, they bared the arm and marched up to them. Thus it was that when the Tao was lost, its attributes appeared; when its attributes were lost, benevolence appeared; when benevolence was lost, righteousness appeared; and when righteousness was lost, the proprieties appeared. Now propriety is the attenuated form of leal-heartedness and good faith, and is also the commencement of disorder; swift apprehension is (only) a flower of the Tao, and is the beginning of stupidity. Thus it is that the Great man abides by what is solid, and eschews what is flimsy; dwells with the fruit and not with the flower. It is thus that he puts away the one and makes choice of the other.
The Tao Te Ching distinguishes between the master and the apprentice by what they *stop doing*. The highest virtue operates without display, without strain, without needing proof. The moment we begin performing our goodness, policing our righteousness, or calculating results, we've already stepped down a ladder—trading the Tao itself for its pale echo in rules and propriety. This descent is not sin; it's a kind of forgetting.
Yes, we often stop this torrent by the little value we set upon it. But let us stop it no more; let us enter into ourselves and break down the bank which hinders it. Let us make way for grace; let us redeem the lost time, for perhaps we have but little left. Death follows us close; let us be well prepared for it: for we die but once; and a miscarriage there is irretrievable.
I say again, let us enter into ourselves. The time presses, there is no room for delay: our souls are at stake. I believe you have taken such effectual measures that you will not be surprised. I commend you for it; it is the one thing necessary. We must, nevertheless, always work at it, because not to advance in the spiritual life is to go back. But those who have the gale of the HOLY SPIRIT go forward even in sleep. If the vessel of our soul is still tossed with winds and storms, let us awake the LORD, who reposes in it, and He will quickly calm the sea.
I have taken the liberty to impart to you these good sentiments, that you may compare them with your own. It will serve again to kindle and inflame them, if…
Brother Lawrence cuts through passivity with urgency: grace is not automatic; we must actively *clear the obstruction*. We enter ourselves, we work, we awaken Christ's presence in the boat. His voice insists on effort and vigilance—not to earn, but to stop blocking what already wants to flow. Time presses. Death is real. Complacency is betrayal.
Of things some are in our power, and others are not. In our power are opinion, movement towards a thing, desire, aversion, turning from a thing; and in a word, whatever are our acts. Not in our power are the body, property, reputation, offices (magisterial power), and in a word, whatever are not our own acts. And the things in our power are by nature free, not subject to restraint or hindrance; but the things not in our power are weak, slavish, subject to restraint, in the power of others. Remember then, that if…
Epictetus names the hard boundary: some things live in your power (intention, will, opinion), others do not (outcome, others' response, the body's fate). This echoes both voices—it forbids the Taoist illusion that non-doing means non-responsibility, and it forbids Brother Lawrence's trap of anxious striving over what cannot be controlled.
All three agree: there is a natural order, and alignment with it requires a kind of surrender. But they diverge sharply in tone. The Tao counsels effortless return; Brother Lawrence demands we *wake the Lord* in urgency and love; Epictetus offers steady discrimination—do your duty cleanly, release the rest. The Tao says *stop forcing*. Lawrence says *stop delaying*. Epictetus says *know the difference and live it without complaint*. They are not one voice; they are three angles on the same truth.
In this one choice before me today, what part is truly mine—and can I do it without needing to control how it lands?