Tao Te Ching

All By Itself

You have a little seed.
It is small. It is brown. It feels like a tiny stone in your hand.

But it is not a stone.
Inside the seed, very quiet, a flower is waiting.

You want to see the flower now.
So you squeeze the seed. You pull on it. You poke it.
Does that help?
No. You cannot pull a flower out of a seed.
A seed will not hurry.

So here is what you do instead.
You make a little hole in the soft dirt.
You lay the seed down, like putting it to bed.
You give it a small drink of water.
You let the warm sun come.
And then you wait.

You go and play. You eat your lunch. You fall asleep.
And down in the dark, where you cannot see —
the seed cracks open.
A tiny green thread reaches up.
It grows. All by itself.

You did not pull it.
You did not push it.
You could not make it hurry. Not even all day.
You gave it a little water. Then you let it be.
And it grew. All by itself.

So many things are like the little seed.

You cannot make yourself fall asleep by trying hard.
But you lie still, and you stop trying —
and sleep comes. All by itself.

And you —
you are growing too.
A little bit every night, while you sleep.
You do not have to pull, or push, or hurry.
You are growing. All by itself.

So when you want something, right now —
do not grab. Do not squeeze.
Do the small, kind thing.
Give it a little water. Give it a little time.

Now close your eyes.
Soft and slow, in the quiet and the dark,
you are growing.
All by itself.

A note for the grown-up

For the grown-up reading aloud: this is one quiet idea made tiny, wu wei, or not-forcing, which the Tao Te Ching keeps returning to (a great tree “grew from the tiniest sprout,” ch. 64). Hold one caution while you read: this is patience and a light touch, not doing nothing. The child still plants the seed and waters it. They act, and then they let go. Letting it grow never means giving up, and it doesn’t promise that waiting always gets you what you want. Some things grow on their own once you stop yanking at them, and you still tend them.

Too Full

Here is your cup.
Here is the juice.
You pour. And pour. And pour.
Right up to the very top!

Now carry it to the table.
Slow… slow…
Oh no. Drip. Drip. Splash.
Juice on the floor. Juice on your socks.

Too full is hard to carry.

Let’s try again.
Pour the juice. Stop a little early.
Leave a bit of room at the top.
Now carry it.
Step, step, step.
No splash. You made it!

Just enough is easy to carry.

Your arms can be too full, too.
Six toys, seven toys, eight toys.
Try to carry them all at once.
Bump. Clatter. Toys all over the stairs.
Take two. Then come back for more.

Your plate can be too full.
Your day can be too full.
Too many games, and no time to rest.
Then you feel wobbly inside, like the splashing cup.

Say it with me:
Too full is hard to carry.
Just enough is easy to carry.

It is fine to want juice.
It is fine to want toys.
Wanting is not bad.
Just stop a little early.
Leave some room at the top.

Now you pour.
Stop a little early.
And carry it all the way.

A note for the grown-up

For the grown-up reading aloud: the Tao Te Ching warns that “it is better to leave a vessel unfilled, than to attempt to carry it when it is full” (ch. 9), and prizes knowing when to stop. The misreading to watch for is that wanting things is bad. The primer says plainly that it isn’t: the lesson is stopping in time, not wanting nothing.

The Empty Middle

Here is a cup.
It has a bottom. It has sides.
It has a handle.

And it has a hole in the middle.
Not a hole that leaks.
An empty space inside.

Can you drink from the sides?
No!
Can you drink from the handle?
No!
You drink from the empty middle.
The empty middle holds the milk.

The empty part is the useful part.

Look at your bucket at the beach.
The empty middle holds the sand.
Look at your house.
The empty middle is where you live.
You do not live inside the walls!
You live in the space between them.

The empty part is the useful part.

But wait.
Could a cup be all empty?
No sides? No bottom?
Then the milk falls right out.
Splash!
The sides hold the empty middle.
You need them both.

Your day is like that too.
Busy parts are like the cup’s sides.
Quiet parts are the empty middle.
A little quiet is not wasted.
It is room.
Room to think. Room to rest.

The empty part is the useful part.

Now find a cup.
Hold it up.
Look inside at the empty middle.
Say it with me:
The empty part is the useful part.

A note for the grown-up

For the grown-up reading aloud: the Tao Te Ching’s plainest argument is a wheel whose use depends on the empty hub, then a clay pot and a room (ch. 11). The misreading to fence is that empty is better than full, or that having nothing is good. The book pairs the two: the solid part gives the frame, the empty part gives the use. That’s why the primer keeps the cup’s sides in view.

Bendy Wins

Here is a green twig.
It is alive. It is new.
Bend it. Bend it more.
Let go. Boing!
It springs right back.

Here is an old, dry stick.
It is brown. It is stiff.
Bend it.
Snap!
It breaks in two.

Bendy bends. Stiff snaps.

Look at the grass in the wind.
The wind blows hard. Whoosh!
The grass bends way down low.
Then the wind stops.
Up comes the grass again.
It is still there.

Bendy bends. Stiff snaps.

You can be bendy too.
Your friend wants a different game.
You want your game.
Stiff says: My way, or I quit!
Snap. Now nobody is playing.
Bendy says: Your game first. Then mine.
Now you both get to play.

But bendy is not floppy.
The grass bends.
The grass does not break.
The grass stands back up.
You can bend, and still say what you want.

Bendy bends. Stiff snaps.

Now wiggle your fingers.
Wiggle your arms.
Bend down low, like the grass.
Now spring back up. Boing!

A note for the grown-up

For the grown-up reading aloud: “Man at his birth is supple and weak; at his death, firm and strong,” runs chapter 76, and it adds that green plants are soft while dead ones are dry and brittle. The misreading to fence is that bending means giving in to anyone who pushes. So the grass in the primer always stands back up, and the child still says what they want. The book’s political side, where “soft” can be a ruler’s tactic, is left out on purpose.