Somewhere around the 6th century BCE, something strange happened.
Taoism, Confucianism, Buddhism, and the Torah all emerged - independently, yet almost simultaneously - in different parts of the world. As if humanity collectively hit a wall and decided it was time to grow up.
Fast-forward two and a half millennia, and we’re still catching up.
Elizabeth Reninger’s Taoism for Beginners isn’t a spiritual deep-dive. It’s a clean, accessible invitation to stop trying so hard and start living better. I picked it up half out of curiosity, half out of burnout. And to my surprise, it gave me one of the most useful frameworks I now use with clients navigating high-stakes career transitions, chronic indecision, and quiet personal crises.
Let me walk you through the three practices that stuck with me — and how I use them in real life.
1. Compassion: A Non-Sentimental Act of Survival
Taoism begins where most modern coaching ends — with mercy, not performance.
Reninger reintroduces compassion not as a soft virtue, but as an essential act of energy management. To practice compassion towards yourself is to stop draining your system with internal combat. It’s not about self-love affirmations or writing in glitter pens. It’s about laying down your weapons.
I’ve used this with clients who’ve spent years punishing themselves for professional “mistakes.” A botched career pivot, a failed team launch, a year lost to caregiving or grief. And it’s this shift — from judgment to observation — that starts real change.
A Taoist practice I now recommend often is the Inner Smile:
Sit. Relax the jaw. Place your attention behind the space between your eyebrows, then move inward to the center of the skull. Think of someone you love — and smile at them, gently. Then turn the smile inward, toward your heart, your lungs, your stomach. No fixing. Just attention.
It’s unnerving how effective it is.
2. Simplicity: The Discipline of Doing Less (Well)
Reninger defines Taoist simplicity as being satisfied with what you have. But in a coaching context, I’d add: it’s the art of doing less on purpose.
This is especially powerful for ambitious, multi-talented professionals stuck in overwhelm. I once worked with a founder choosing between four business directions. The breakthrough didn’t come from a spreadsheet or SWOT analysis. It came from asking one Taoist-inspired question: Which choice lets you move without force?
That clarity of action without pushing is what Taoism calls the Tao itself.
We’re conditioned to associate complexity with intelligence. But complexity burns out even the brightest. Simplicity, in this framework, is not minimalism for the sake of aesthetics. It’s strategic alignment.
3. Patience: Time as a Tool, Not a Threat
Taoist patience isn’t passive. It’s alert. It doesn’t chase, but it doesn’t sleep either.
In practice, this means learning to trust timing without trying to control it. This is not easy for high-achievers with five-year plans and quarterly OKRs.
One of my clients — an executive who left a major firm without a “next” — spent months spiraling in uncertainty. The Taoist frame helped her stop treating the unknown as a crisis. We built her calendar around space: daily walks, reflection slots, and one small act of joy per day. Clarity came. But only after the noise subsided.
Taoism doesn’t sell you a plan. It shows you what emerges when you stop forcing one.
Closing: From Ritual to Real Practice
One of my favorite lines from the book (and from the Tao Te Ching itself) is this:
When the Tao is lost, there is goodness. When goodness is lost, there is morality. When morality is lost, there is ritual. Ritual is the husk of true faith — the beginning of chaos.
You could write a whole essay on that one line. But in career coaching, I see it every day: people clinging to rituals — LinkedIn makeovers, performance hacks, color-coded to-do lists — because the real thread of purpose is missing.
Taoism reminds us that clarity, presence, and action do not begin with effort. They begin with stillness.
Before you can chart a new direction, you need to see where you actually are.
And that starts with getting honest about what’s working — and what’s quietly eroding you.
If you’d like to take a closer look, I’ve created a simple diagnostic I share with my clients. It’s not a personality quiz. It’s a conversation starter — with yourself.
