365 TAO
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#0001 - Pillow Books
They are what I slip into my back pocket as I leave my apartment. They live on my hip, their excerpts becoming familiar companions in moments of solace or in the desperation that flavors this age of anxiety.
These are the books I recommend to passive seekers, friends, or those grappling with life’s problems. It’s less about the book itself—or even the story, really. It’s about how the ideas nourish something deep within me, as though they are constructing my very foundation. It’s about how they shape and flux how I carry myself through the world.
365 Tao consists of daily meditations—each just a page long—centered around Taoism. Taoism, a Chinese philosophy over 2,000 years old, overlaps ideologically with both stoicism and anarchy.
This book was a gift from a dear friend I no longer speak to. His dedication reads: “Welcome to your 30s. Let go of your guns.” This morning, I felt a pang of regret for the distance that now exists between us. Today’s meditation, fittingly titled “Farewell,” shook me with its opening lines:
“People’s paths come together all too briefly when sharing friendship, but that makes those times no less valuable.”
The book offered me solace, gently reminding me of a truth that is so easy to forget: nothing is permanent. Nothing remains still. “Friends should walk side by side for as long as their journeys carry them.”
The wisdom from this book manifests in unexpected ways. A few days ago, I wondered whether it was a good idea to share the books I plan to write about. I liked the idea because it would transform these index cards into a living library, and my relationship with the books into something alive, almost a fiction. But I also worried about the reactions it might provoke. Then, on today’s page, I found this line:
“No one owns knowledge. It should be freely shared.”
