Emptying Minds, Filling Cores

Ancient Wisdom for Modern Overwhelm

One of the books that has had, and continues to have, a profound impact on my life and way of being in the world, is the Tao Te Ching by Lao Tzu. So each month I am exploring a chapter of this book and how we can use its wisdom in our writing, and lives, today.

I hope you enjoy it. I'd love to hear from you with your comments and ideas. This month's translation is from the Stephen Mitchell translation.

Chapter Three

If you overesteem great men,
people become powerless.
If you overvalue possessions,
people begin to steal.

The Master leads
by emptying people's minds
and filling their cores,
by weakening their ambition
and toughening their resolve.
He helps people lose everything they know,
everything they desire,
and creates confusion in those
who think that they know.

Practice not-doing,
and everything will fall into place.

The Paradox of True Leadership

At the heart of this chapter lies one of the most profound paradoxes in both leadership and storytelling: the most effective leaders are often those who appear to do nothing at all. In our celebrity-obsessed culture, where social media creates instant influencers and where wealth and luxury is paraded as the ultimate measure of success, Chapter Three is as relevant now as when it was written.

We live in a time when people give away their power by outsourcing their thoughts and opinions to their media of choice and by constantly comparing themselves to curated versions of others’ lives. The endless pursuit of money and possessions has led to both literal and metaphorical theft — of time, attention, authentic connection, and even identity. This chapter seems to be warning us about the very world we've created.

But what strikes me most about this passage is the concept of leading "by emptying people's minds and filling their cores." In a world saturated with information, where everyone seems to have an opinion about everything, there's something deeply appealing about the idea of emptying rather than filling, of creating space rather than adding noise.

As writers, we often think our job is to fill pages, to provide answers, to demonstrate our knowledge. But what if our real role is to create the kind of confusion that leads to genuine understanding? What if the most powerful stories are those that help readers "lose everything they know, everything they desire"?

Storytelling

Photo by Graphic Node on Unsplash

The line that resonates most deeply for me in this chapter is:

Practice not-doing, and everything will fall into place.

This concept of wu wei, or non-action, is at the heart of Taoism and it doesn't mean being passive or lazy. It means acting in accordance with the natural flow of things, without force or struggle. For storytellers, this might mean trusting the story to emerge rather than forcing it into predetermined shapes.

I've noticed in my own writing that the stories that feel most alive are often the ones where I step back and let the characters lead. Where I "practice not-doing" and allow the narrative to unfold organically. It's the difference between controlling your story and collaborating with it. When I write memoir and stories about my present day life, it’s when I just let my heart guide the writing that it has the most power. Where I don’t set out to achieve anything in particular with a piece of writing.

In our hustle culture where we’re always chasing outcomes, the idea of not-doing feels radical, almost revolutionary. We see it in the way social media has turned everyone into a brand, where authenticity itself has become a performance. But stories that emerge from this kind of forced doing often feel hollow, manufactured, to me. How about you?

The most compelling characters in literature are often those who embody this paradox— leaders who lead by serving, teachers who teach by questioning, heroes who succeed by surrendering control. In life writing the most compelling voices are those that are not so certain they have figured it all out. I know I haven’t. One of the most liberating elements of my mindfulness and spiritual journey has been letting go of the need to pretend I know the answers to everything. “I don’t know” has become one of my most often uttered statements!

Story Reading

Photo by Kenny Orr on Unsplash

The School by Donald Barthelme

This short story is available to read online here.

Synopsis

A darkly comic story told by a teacher recounting a series of deaths that have occurred at his school—from plants and animals to people connected to the school community. As the deaths accumulate, the students begin asking profound questions about mortality and meaning, leading to an unexpected and surreal conclusion.

Story Analysis

I chose this story because it perfectly embodies the concept of teaching through confusion rather than certainty and because the narrative voice is truly brilliant, making me feel completely immersed in this character and his world. The narrator-teacher doesn't have answers to his students' increasingly urgent questions about death and meaning. Instead of providing false comfort or easy explanations, he creates a space for genuine questioning.

The story demonstrates how "emptying people's minds" can be more powerful than filling them with false certainties. The children's direct, unfiltered questions strip away adult pretences and force everyone to confront the fundamental mysteries of existence.

This is the kind of confusion that Chapter Three suggests can be transformative as we're forced to question our assumptions.

The teacher in the story practices a form of "not-doing." He doesn't try to manufacture meaning or provide pat answers. Instead, he allows the accumulating questions to create their own momentum, leading to the story's strange, almost mystical conclusion.

What did you think of the story and how it explores the relationship between teaching and not-knowing? What about the ending? Let me know in the comments below.

Craft Development

In Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear by

Elizabeth Gilbert

, she talks about the relationship between creativity and control. She writes about how the most magical creative experiences often happen when we stop trying to force outcomes and instead become curious collaborators with our ideas.

This mirrors the "not-doing" principle from Chapter Three. Gilbert suggests that our ideas are living beings that choose us, and our job isn't to control them but to provide the conditions for them to flourish. I believe this too and in my fiction writing I believe that the characters that come to me to tell their story are “out there” somewhere and the reason they come to me is because I need to learn something from writing their story for them. This approach to our writing requires emptying our minds of preconceptions about what our work should be and filling our cores with trust in the creative process.

When we approach our writing from this perspective, we become like the Master in Chapter Three and create space for our stories to emerge naturally rather than forcing them.

Writing Exercise

Take a story you've been struggling with — one where you feel like you're forcing the plot or characters to do what you think they should do. Instead sit quietly and tap into who the character is, let them come to you and tell their story through you. Practice "not-doing” and instead of trying to make things happen, create space for what needs to emerge. Let your characters surprise you.

New Work Prompt

Write a story about a leader who leads by appearing to do nothing, or a teacher who teaches by creating confusion rather than providing answers. This could be set in any context—a workplace, a family, a community, a church, or a relationship.

Your protagonist should embody the paradox at the heart of Chapter Three: achieving influence not through force or display but through creating space for others to discover their own power.

Sit and practice mindful breathing and empty your mind to let the character come to you. When they arrive, let them tell you their story in their own voice and just write it down.

Things to think about when editing the story:

• How does your character practice "not-doing" in a way that creates positive change?

• What does it mean to "empty minds and fill cores" in your story's context?

• How can confusion become a gift rather than a problem?

• What assumptions or desires might your characters need to lose in order to find something more authentic?

Remember the final line: "Practice not-doing, and everything will fall into place." Trust your story enough to let it teach you what it wants to become.

That's all for this month's exploration of the Tao Te Ching. I really hope you have enjoyed it and I would love to hear your thoughts and ideas about it all and read the work from the exercises and prompt, if you feel comfortable sharing them.

I'll be back next month with Chapter Four.

Write well, practice not-doing, enjoy this amazing gift of life!

With love,