Show Notes
A listener wrote in this week with something a lot of people are feeling but haven't said out loud: they've been trying to do the things the practice asks — the stillness, the presence, the slowing down — and it's boring. The mind races. Nothing lands. The quiet that's supposed to feel like relief feels like a room with no windows and no particular reason to stay in it. This check-in takes that frustration seriously. Why does the removal of stimulation feel like deprivation rather than relief? Why does the Western nervous system push back so hard against the very thing every contemplative tradition in human history has pointed toward? And why does trying harder at stillness make it worse rather than better? The racing mind is not the problem. The racing mind is the symptom. And understanding what it's a symptom of is considerably more useful than trying to stop it.
More from The Modern Taoist
Every October, people feel it — the sense that the dead are closer than usual. Halloween is just the pop-culture echo of something much older: the recognition that the unseen world is real, and that this time of year carries a different weight. In this episode of The Modern Taoist, Kit Mann goes deep on what the Taoist tradition actually says about ghosts, spirits, and the afterlife — and it’s not what you’d expect. In Taoism, there is no supernatural. If something exists, it’s part of nature. Which means ghosts, spirits, and the unseen world aren’t outside the framework. They’re part of it. Kit walks through the classical Chinese vocabulary for the spirit world — Shén (shen), the animating spiritual force; Guǐ (gway), the ghost or lingering dead; Zǔ (dzoo), the ancestors; and the two souls every living person carries: the Hún (hwun), the yang sky-soul, and the Pò (poh), the yin earth-soul. What happens when they separate at death — and what happens when they don’t — is exactly where the Taoist understanding of ghosts begins. From there: why ghosts exist according to the tradition (unfinished business, violent death, and the neglect of the dead by the living), Zhuangzi’s famous story of singing at his wife’s funeral, the skull on the road who wouldn’t trade death for life, and the deeper question underneath all of it — why do we see them, and why do we need them to exist? This episode also answers a listener question about unexplained waves of sadness that arise in meditation, and closes with a Taoist assignment built for the season. Thoughtful, a little unsettling, and grounded in a 2,500-year-old tradition that took the unseen world seriously long before it was Halloween.
The Modern Taoist — Tao Te Now, Chapter 6 Kit Mann on the five lines in the Tao Te Ching that make the biggest claim in the book and then immediately make it personal. Chapter 6 calls the Tao the Great Mother — empty yet inexhaustible, the source of infinite worlds — and then turns directly to the listener and says it is always present within you, and you can use it any way you want. This episode breaks down what that actually means, why the emptiness Lao Tzu is describing is not a lack but a function, and why the Tao is not something you go out and find. It was already there before you started looking. If you have ever felt like your spiritual practice was something you had to earn your way into, this chapter says otherwise.
The Modern Taoist — Rest Is Not the Same Thing as Stopping Kit Mann on why the weekend you spent doing nothing still left you exhausted on Monday morning. This episode draws a distinction that productivity culture never bothered to make: the difference between stopping and actually resting. One of them restores something. The other is just anxiety in a horizontal position. Most people have been taught that rest is what happens when the work is done — a reward, something earned, something scheduled into the gaps. Taoism does not see it that way. Rest is not the absence of work. It is part of the same cycle as the work, and the person who removes it from that cycle has not optimized anything. They have cut off the source the productivity comes from. This check-in is short, direct, and built for the person who scrolls for two hours and feels worse afterward, who sits still and stays somewhere else in their head, who cannot remember the last time they came back from time off actually restored. If that is you, this is the episode. If you know someone like that, send it to them
The Modern Taoist — Ask Me Anything | Episode 5 Kit Mann answers six listener questions in the latest Ask Me Anything episode of The Modern Taoist — covering clinical anxiety and depression, perimenopause, whether Taoism is only for older people, what the tradition actually says about death, collecting as compulsion, and what to do when a company betrays nine years of loyalty. No themes, no arc, no tidy argument. Just real questions from real people and honest answers that bring Taoist thinking to the places it actually lives — in the body, in the workplace, in the grief, in the obsession, in the gap between what you understand and what you feel.
The Tao Te Now — Chapter 5 Chapter 5 opens with the most uncomfortable claim Lao Tzu has made so far. The Tao does not take sides. It gives birth to both good and evil and does not choose between them. The sage does not organize the world into people who deserve care and people who do not. She welcomes both saints and sinners. In this episode, Kit Mann works through what that actually means — and what it does not mean. It is not moral relativism. It is not indifference. It is the recognition that waiting for the universe to validate your goodness and punish the wrongdoing of others is its own kind of suffering, and that letting go of that expectation changes something real. The chapter also introduces a new image for the Tao — the bellows, empty and infinitely capable, producing more the more it is used. And it ends on nine words that contain the whole of the practice: hold on to the center. Not arrive at it. Hold on to it. The difference between those two things is the difference between a destination and a practice.