The Tao of Trusting the Tao

Papa Gringo Performing Stand Up Comedy

Last summer, the Tao kicked my butt, reminding me that retirement’s coming soon, that I should start thinking about life post-teaching. One idea was to start this blog. I liked that idea. I still like that idea.

But now I’m getting kicked in the butt again.

Earlier this month, while replacing a burnt-out bulb in the kitchen, something sparked in my mind. I suddenly thought of pursuing stand-up comedy.

Thirty-five years ago, back in L.A., I had taken some stand-up comedy classes. I did a few open mics. I had a couple good shows.  But I never took it beyond that.

I didn’t like the late-night hours or the waiting around for my two-minute turn.  Instead, I went to grad school, got myself a masters, moved to the Bay, then started a career teaching college writing. 

The teaching path has served me well.  I’ve been blessed to have served as a Bodhisattva for so very many students. Standing at the front of all those classes even allowed me the chance to dabble around with standup skills.

However, even today, the thought of attending late-night open mics, of waiting around for a sixty-second spotlight, just doesn’t sound appealing.  Still, I’d like to start a regular joke-writing practice.  I recently got a couple books and found some writing tips online.  

Writing jokes could be fun.  Like solving crossword puzzles, it can keep my mushy mind sharp.  And I can start an Instagram page and a YouTube channel, both featuring brief video clips of me reciting one-liners or extended little bits.

Writing bits and putting them online is something I could do from anywhere — not only here in San Francisco, but also down south by the Rio de la Plata or up in the hills of Guanajuato.  

To be honest, the thought makes me feel a little nervous. I’m afraid I won’t have the talent to write or create consistent funny material. I’m afraid my videos will suck. But even if they do, so what?

It’s fun to try and go with the flow, especially when the Tao is running like a wild summer stream.

What About You?

Have you got any crazy dreams you might be afraid to pursue? Let me know in the comments. I could use a little empathy.

“The Natural” Way of the Tao

The recent passing of screen-legend Robert Redford got me thinking of his understated performance as Roy Hobbs in the 1984 film The Natural.

Redford as Hobbs, a mysterious baseball prodigy, embodies the Taoist practice of wu wei — the art of unforced action. Hobbs’s natural talents flow effortlessly; and when he plays ball, he flows in harmony with the rhythms of the universe. He doesn’t chase fame or fortune; he simply plays the game he loves.

Taoism teaches that, when one aligns with the Tao, life unfolds with ease. Hobbs’s journey to the major league, though interrupted by tragedy, resumes with quiet determination, not dogged ambition.

Nature as Natural Teacher

The film’s visual language, photographed by Caleb Deschanel with Barry Levinson’s direction, is steeped in nature — golden fields, twilight skies, earth-toned fashions, plus the crack of a bat in the open air.

Taoism reveres nature and its pastoral simplicity. Hobbs, a rookie to big-city corruption, finds ultimate solace and peaceful healing far from the stadium roars, farther still in the quiet countryside with his childhood love and their future dream.

Taoism urges us to live in accordance with nature, and Hobbs’s redemption is only possible when he reconnects with the natural flow.

Characters of Yin & Yang

The film’s characters are rich with duality: good and bad, youth and age, shadows and light. Hobbs’s off-field opponents — gamblers, a manipulative team owner, a blonde femme fatale — represent imbalance and greed. Iris, in contrast, Hobbs’s childhood love, symbolizes light, balance and truth.

Taoism teaches that life is a dance between opposites, that harmony arises when these forces balance out. Hobbs’s own internal struggles — tragedy and redemption, humility and ambition — mirror this Taoist tension. His final triumph is more than athletic; it’s spiritual. Hobbs opts for integrity over fame, restoring balance to his life and the game he loves.

Transcendence & the Tao

The film’s climactic moment, Hobbs’s game-winning homer, means more than victory: It represents transcendence. The ball shatters the stadium lights, raining sparks like stars, a visual metaphor for enlightenment.

In Taoism, the Tao is the eternal Way that underlies all existence. Hobbs’s final swing is a moment of pure alignment with the Tao — no thought, no effort, just being; his eyes on the ball as it cracks off his bat and sails into the sky.

What Do You Think?

Have you ever seen The Natural? What were your thoughts on Redford’s performance? Redford himself, always aligned with nature, surely followed the Tao to success.

Birthday Portrait: 10/7/1952 Vladimir Putin

An illustration of a narrow-eyed Vladimir Putin leering off at something suspicious to his far left.

Tomorrow, October 7th, Russian President Vladimir Putin turns 73. Typically, Libras are known for their diplomatic finesse, charm, and strategic thinking. They often seek balance and harmony; but in leadership, this can manifest as a calculated approach to maintaining control and equilibrium. Even so, Putin’s complete astrological chart reveals a complex interplay of planetary placements that deepen and sharpen his Libra traits, shaping a persona that is both enigmatic and formidable.

Saturn in Libra

Putin’s planetary influence of Saturn is exalted in Libra, granting this ex-KGB agent a disciplined sense of justice and responsibility. This placement suggests a strong commitment to order and structure, often expressed through legal or institutional frameworks. He values both loyalty and tradition, but with a strategic twist: Using rules to reinforce authority. Saturn here also implies a cautious approach to relationships, preferring alliances that serve long-term goals rather than emotional bonds.

Jupiter in Taurus

Putin’s Jupiter in Taurus brings a pragmatic and materially grounded worldview. As a result, Putin possesses a deep appreciation for stability, wealth, and tangible assets. This placement often correlates with a conservative expansion style—favoring slow, deliberate growth over risk. It also suggests a sensual side, with indulgence in comfort and luxury. Jupiter in Taurus reinforces the tendency to consolidate power through economic control and resource management.

Mars in Sagittarius

Putin’s Mars in Sagittarius fuels ambition with ideological fervor. This placement suggests a bold, adventurous energy, often expressed through expansive goals and international pursuits. Putin may be driven by a vision of national destiny or cultural pride, using assertiveness to push boundaries. Mars here can also indicate a love of strategy and competition, with a tendency to act decisively when opportunities align with broader philosophical aims.

Venus in Scorpio

Putin’s Venus in Scorpio intensifies emotional depth and relational power dynamics. Putin likely approaches relationships with intensity, secrecy, and loyalty—but also with a keen eye for leverage. This placement suggests a magnetic charm paired with a penetrating insight into others’ motives. Venus in Scorpio can also manifest as a love for mystery, control and transformation, especially in personal and political alliances.

Mercury in Libra

His Mercury in Libra enhances Putin’s communication skills with tact and diplomacy. He likely excels in negotiation, persuasion, and balancing competing interests. This placement favors intellectual refinement and strategic dialogue, often masking deeper intentions behind a polished exterior. Mercury in Libra also suggests a preference for harmony in discourse, though not necessarily transparency—he may use charm as a tool for influence.

Moon in Taurus

His Moon in Taurus provides emotional steadiness and a strong attachment to security. Putin may have a calm, composed demeanor, with a deep need for control over his environment. This placement favors loyalty, consistency, and resistance to change. Emotionally, he may be slow to trust but deeply committed once bonds are formed. The Moon in Taurus also reinforces his appreciation for tradition, comfort, and the preservation of power.

How About You?

Curious how your own astrological natal chart may influence your own personality and, by extension, your own experience of life? If so, contact me directly and let’s set up a reading over Zoom.

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Retirement in the Age of AI

A retired woman sitting on a portable stool, sketching in her notebook. She sits with her back to us, giving a glimpse over her shoulder of what she might be drawing.

While kicking back at my computer with a cup of hot coffee, I shut my eyes and tried to imagine the future I’ll retire into. What would the world resemble once AI replaces a majority of mid-level business and administrative positions? So I opened my eyes and asked AI: What will life be like in the year 2030, especially the United States, after the impending AI Revolution?

AI’s response, in part:

🌍 The Year 2030: When Work Changes Forever

In 2030, the global economy no longer revolves around labor—it revolves around orchestration. AI systems now perform most mid-level corporate tasks: logistics, accounting, diagnostics, even legal drafting. The only required corporate employees are those who manage the AI infrastructure staff.

This shift leaves millions of Americans, especially Gen Xers through Gen Z, without traditional employment opportunities. However, rather than collapse, society pivots. New local economies emerge, providing new opportunities for communal connection.

💸 Universal Basic Income: The New Floor

Each year, the US Treasury issues all adult US citizens a $50,000 stipend, paid for by taxes on downsizing organizations. The basic stipend is enough to cover housing, food, and utilities. While not lavish, it’s stable. Some people, to keep busy, start up their own small businesses or fill low-level service jobs — bartending, caregiving, delivery — not necessarily out of need, but to enjoy work’s daily structure, its social engagement, and the supplemental income it provides.

A quiet economic revolution has occurred, one as disruptive as the car economy replacing the horse economy. In the early 1900s, blacksmiths, stable hands, and leather workers, all lost their livelihoods when city streets stinking of manure gave way to city air stinking of gasoline exhaust. Back then, new industries emerged. The same is starting today.

🎨 Hobbies, Hustles, and Human Flourishing

Freed from the daily grind of holding down an office job, many people turn inward to explore their latent talents. Painters paint. Coders build indie games. Gardeners grow food for their neighbors. Some monetize their passions; others simply live more slowly, adapting to a pace that allows for reflection and expression.

After the initial shock and fear of the unknown, displaced workers soon came to appreciate how the economy has bifurcated, how AI handles the infrastructure while humans handle the soul. With more time available to mingle and socialize, neighborhoods create more neighbors and fewer passing strangers.

🏥 Healthcare: Basic for All, Premium for Some

To help lower life expenses, the federal government provides universal healthcare that covers preventive care, emergencies, and chronic conditions. Private insurance still plays a role—especially for elective procedures, advanced therapies, or boutique services. It’s a two-tiered system, one that funds innovation, one that provides general benefits for all.

👶 Population Pressure and Ethical Dilemmas

With fewer people working, providing more time for leisure and social interaction, AI has determined that human destiny is best served with slower population growth. To prevent a potentially catastrophic baby boom, abortion is available though without federal funding. Federal funding is available, however, for younger adults looking to self-sterilize.

While controversial, the self-sterilization debate has been framed as a choice—an opt-in benefit for those desiring a life without generational legacies.

What Do You Think?

Have you considered the near-future changes to society and how it might affect your retirement choices? I just hope that, along with my pension, I also get a universal income stipend.

Retirement Option #2: Guanajuato, Mexico

Panoramic photograph of Guanajuato, Mexico.

Though spending only a weekend there more than forty years ago, I still carry found memories of Guanajuato – its rain-glistened cobblestone streets full of mariachi music, its little plazas and sidewalk cafes surrounded by brilliant bold colors.

For decades, I’ve dreamed of returning.  To start, I hope to stay for a month or two and take Spanish lessons at a local school, meeting other expats and local artists and academics – all while drawing and painting in my portable watercolor sketchbook.

After that, I’d like to branch out, spending time in each of the surrounding mountain pueblos, all of them rich with revolutionary history, with the lingering echoes of miners’ cries as they discovered silver and gold.  I’ll sketch the Tao all over these towns and, perhaps, find one for settling down.

San Felipe

A pen-and-ink watercolor illustration of the main church in main plaza of San Felipe, Guanajuato, Mexico.

Long before the Spanish arrived in the mid-16th century, the Chichimeca people populated this region that borders the stunning Parque Nacional Sierra de Lobos, which served as a natural forested fortress for their defense. 

Their legacy adds a layer of ancestral depth to the pueblo’s identity — one of rooted resilience, one that moved Mexico to seek independence from Spain.

Irapuato

With its famed fertile soil and temperate climate, Irapuato was originally known for its yield of sweet guavas. Today, it harvests the majority of Mexico’s juicy strawberry crop and celebrates its annual yield with a Festival de la Fresas

Stretching over six kilometers, its ornate 18th-century Romanesque aqueduct channels nearby mountain water to the colonial city’s center, where it nourishes a lavish botanical garden.

A pen-and-ink watercolor illustration of the main church in main plaza of Irapuato, Mexico.

San Luis de la Paz

A pen-and-ink watercolor illustration of the main church in main plaza of San Luis de la Paz, Mexico.

Founded in August 1552 to mark the Spanish-brokered peace treaty between the native Otomi and Chichimeca peoples, San Luis de la Paz stands today as a symbol of resistance, resilience and reconciliation.

Once a strategic outpost along the Spanish Silver Route, the town — surrounded by sacred mountains, winding rivers, and striking rock formations — played a vital role in colonial trade and cultural exchange across the central Mexican highlands.

Dolores Hidalgo

In 1810, Father Miguel Hidalgo sounded the church bells, el Grito de Dolores, igniting a revolution. Today, Dolores Hidalgo’s central plaza teems with pottery workshops, mariachi echoes, and the warmth of colonial charm.

Designated a Pueblo Mágico, the town invites visitors to savor strawberry ices, to honor José Alfredo Jiménez’s poetic legacy, and to sample the quiet rise of vineyards amid its storied, sunlit hills.

A pen-and-ink watercolor illustration of the main church in main plaza of Dolores Hidalgo, Mexico.

San Jose Iturbide

Pen-and-ink watercolor sketch of a church tower in San Jose Inturbide. A Mexican flag flies from a nearby pole.

Founded in 1754 as Casas Viejas, the renamed mountain pueblo honors both St Joseph and Agustin de Iturbide, Mexico’s first emperor, with stunning neoclassical and Baroque architecture; festive spring traditions; and culinary delights such as cajeta, a goat’s-milk caramel.

In dusty whispers of one-time wealth, local lore speaks of mining carriages rumbling down cobbled colonial roads, of wooden wheels on chiseled stone as they ferried silver, cinnabar, and dreams of fortune from Sierra Gorda mines.

How About You?

Ever been to Guanajuato or any of its surrounding pueblos? Tell me about it in the comments.

The Tao of Fasting

Watercolor image of Papa Gringo's on a bathroom scale, showing the weight as 159.7 pounds.

There’s an old Taoist saying: “To learn the Tao, one must first fast.” Even without understanding the modern scientific benefits of prolonged fasting, such as ketosis and autophagy, and how those benefits heal the body, ancient Taoists understood the spiritual significance of not chowing down on three full squares a day.

Of Ice and Men

Ten thousand years ago, prior to the Ice Age thaw, Stone-Age hunter-gatherers went days without any substantial nutrition, without satisfying the body’s hunger for proteins and fats. Over many millions of years, however, hominid bodies had developed processes to accommodate such long droughts in dining.

Several millennia after the glacial ice caps receded, northern-Chinese Taoists intentionally skipped a few hearty meals in order to stimulate ketosis and kick-start autophagy, allowing the body to initiate its own self-regeneration, to feed off dead and abnormal cells, strengthening the sinews that remained.

Of course, such practice was packaged as preparation for sacred religious rites, preparation that repaired and revived a body not focused on digestion. During fasting periods, senses are heightened, mindfulness improves — two states needed for success when out on extended hunting expeditions.

Full of Emptiness

In Taoism, “emptiness” is not a void to be pitied but a hollow to be hailed — a space where the Tao can flow unimpeded. It is the hollow of bamboo, the pause between breaths, the momentary silence that gives music its melody. Emptiness invites receptivity, humility and, in a spiritual sense, transformation.

Fasting, in this context, becomes the ritual enactment of emptiness: a deliberate clearing of the body’s cravings and the mind’s clutter. By abstaining from food, pungent flavors, and sensory excess, the practitioner cultivates inner quietude, a waking sleep that invites spiritual cognition.

In Taoist ritual, fasting precedes communion with the divine, echoing the belief that only through emptiness can one be filled with the Tao’s subtle presence. It is a practice of becoming porous, open to the mystery of life.

Wu Wei in Action

In Taoism, wu wei — often translated as “non-action” or “effortless action” — is the art of flowing with the natural order rather than forcing outcomes. It’s not passivity; rather, it’s a deep attunement to the rhythms of life, where action arises spontaneously from harmony.

Fasting, when viewed through this lens, becomes a practice of wu wei: a gentle release of control over the body’s desires, allowing the spirit to settle into stillness. Rather than striving or resisting, the practitioner simply surrenders and lets go — of food, stimulation and excess –and, in doing so, returns to a more elemental state.

This emptiness invites clarity, receptivity and alignment with the Tao. Like river water carving mountain stone, not by force but by flowing persistence, fasting in Taoism is a quiet surrender that opens space for surprising discovery. It is a way of becoming light, porous, and attuned to the subtle currents of being.

How About You?

Have you had any past experience with fasting? I lost about five pounds by skipping approximately ten meals last week and simplifying all the meals I did eat. Please share your experience in the comments.

Effects of Saturn in Retrograde

A rams head, the planet Saturn, and a floating gold fish.

Feeling Frustrated? 

If your recent bright ideas have seemed to suddenly dim, if your energy feels jammed or your mojo jacked — you are not alone!  The planet Saturn, now in retrograde, has been throwing cosmic curveballs, striking out our swings at success, sending us back to the bench in the dugout. 

Last spring, on May 25, Saturn entered the sign of Aries, which is normally a time when passionate actions yield promising results.  With Saturn in Aries, we often initiate ambitious projects, accept leadership roles, and embrace a pioneer spirit. 

Back in June, plump summer dreams were ripe on the vine.

But then, on July 13, Saturn turned retrograde, and all our dreams seemed suddenly dashed.  

So What Does Retrograde Mean?  

Physically, as we stand on the Earth with a telescope and track the orbital path of Saturn, a night arrives when the planet appears to reverse direction.  This apparent retrograde occurs when the planet begins to orbit the back side of the Sun while the Earth continues to orbit in front. 

Metaphysically, when a planet goes retrograde, all its positive characteristics are negatively influenced.  What’s strong is weakened.  What’s possible is paused. 

The planet Saturn is the CEO of astrology, the quarterback of our natal charts.  When entering Aires, Saturn adopts the energy of the ram – headstrong, impetuous, confident, determined.   

However, when retrograde, Saturn in Aries begins to second-guess itself.  Confidence wanes.  Caution delays success.  Ever since mid-July, our dreams from early June have seemed hopelessly stalled, no matter our attempts to advance them.   

Luckily, Bad Spells Don’t Last Long

Today, September 1, Saturn leaves the sign of Aires and slips into the introspective waters of Pisces.  Normally, this would feel like stepping into a luxury bubble bath.  Our Saturn CEO would sip champagne and dream of future possibilities. 

But Saturn will still be retrograde, so Pisces negativity will drown our CEO in emotional uncertainty.  We are likely now to abandon our recent ambitious plans, then agonize with guilt for having given up so soon.

Fortunately, on November 28, Saturn ends its retrograde, turns direct again, and resumes its orbit on the same side of the Sun as the Earth.  At that point, we’ll begin to enjoy the positive Pisces traits.  We’ll begin to re-imagine our abandoned plans from spring.  We’ll begin to re-build our emotional core.

A Bright Future in 2026

Early next year, on February 13, Saturn, still going direct, will re-enter the sign of Aries.  Our CEO will once again step up to take charge, to direct immediate action, to lead the campaign toward success.

For me, personally, back at the end of May, I addressed a long-lingering health concern. Complications arose in mid-July, and now I’m due for a Pisces pity party. 

Eventually, though, based on the stars, things will turn around come November.  Come February, I’ll be fully back in shape and ready to conclude the last couple years of my career.  After that, I’ll likely retire in the Spring of 2028, right as Saturn enters the sign of Taurus.  

How About You?

Has Saturn in retrograde effected your recent plans and actions?  Let me know in the comments.

Birthday Portrait: 8/25/1930 Sean Connery

A shoulder-up illustration of Sean Connery as James Bond 007. Bond wears a tuxedo and holds a long-barreled black gun up against his cheek.

At first glance, Sean Connery’s James Bond doesn’t appear to symbolize the Tao. 

Done up, always dapper; prone to flashy gadgets, shaken martinis, and high-stakes espionage: Connery’s Agent 007 seems too self-initiated, too action-prone to embody the easy-going rhythm of the Tao.

That Connery Cool

Actually, it’s Connery’s own natural poise that cools Bond’s fiery adventure — that reels in all that secret-agent energy and brings it back to center, where all its antsy potential slowly simmers, burning like an oven roasting ice.

That equilibrium, no doubt, is thanks to Venus having passed through Libra ninety-five years ago today, the day Connery was born in Edinburgh.  When Venus orbits into Libra — the sign of elegant balance — the planet of love and romance steams with graceful charm. 

Smooth-Talking Bond

As James Bond, Connery’s Mars in Gemini exudes a quick and quippy charisma, one that smartly neutralizes bad guys, that smoothly triumphs over all the bad girls.  His witty words cut like a blade, like an infamous slap across the face.

Though gone from us since 2020, Sean Connery’s big-hearted Jupiter in Cancer still warms our amused attention. His dangerous, casino-calm grin still lingers — a reminder that, even in the world of espionage, the Tao remains forever constant, forever controlled, forever flowing free.  

Celebrity Astrology

Curious about your favorite celebrity’s astrological chart and how it effects their character? Let me know in the comments.

Retirement Option #1: Montevideo, Uruguay

Locals lounging on the grass at sunset, Playa Ramirez in the background

With retirement looming on the near horizon, I often wonder where to spend my post-working life.  Maybe I’ll slow travel, one-bagging it back and forth between a few select places. Or maybe one particular place will eventually call me home. 

First on my list of potential destinations is Montevideo.  Since 1980, every several years or so, I’ve traveled south to Uruguay to visit family friends.  It’s a magical place where classic Spanish Castellano blends with Italian-immigrant slang, where African descendants beat Candombe drums in post-colonial city streets. 

After all those visits, here’s my five favorite things about the Rio de la Plata capital.

Plaza Independencia

Plaza Independencia with Salvo Palace in the background

In the heart of the Old City, in the center of Plaza Independencia, the mausoleum of General Jose Artigas, the country’s first presidente, stands silently solemn. Surrounding his statue, diverse architectural towers come to attention, anchored by the bemusing Salvo Palace, its offbeat elegance a symbol of this drumbeat town. 

For me, Plaza Independencia is a relaxing destination after a long morning walk, a place to pause with a coffee, to watch the map-checking tourists and the mate-sipping locals, all perfect portrait models for my furtive urban sketching.  

Prado’s Museum of Art

Juan Manuel Blanes' mega painting "The Thirty-three."

A ninety-minute walk north from the Old City, just outside the Parque Prado, the Museo Municipal de Bellas Artes curates a magnificent collection of large-scale patriotic paintings by Juan Manuel Blanes, such as the Treinta y Tres shown above.

Blanes’ depiction of Uruguayan gauchos and native Americans layer in cultural memory.  On my past visits, I’ve lingered before each canvas, appreciating both their expansive historical scenes and their emotionally intricate brush strokes. 

The museum also displays a lively collection by Pedro Figari, an early-modern, late-life painter whose childlike “naïve-style” honored the mid-19th-century humility of the working-class and mocked the pride of the bourgeoisie.  

Playa Posit0s

A panoramic view of Playa Pocitos with the blue Rio de la Plata lapping at the beach along the city's edge.

An hour south by bus, we’re chilling at the beach in the Playa Positos neighborhood, where the Rio de la Plata meets mid-20th-century high-rise apartments.  The contrast of a bustling city and a wide relaxing strand symbolizes the yin/yang vibe felt throughout this meditative bay. 

I’ve spent late afternoons beneath my own beach umbrella, sketching sun bathers and the inevitable impromptu futbol game.  Not quite a tourist spot, this beach is mostly a neighborhood treasure where families picnic and locals kick off their zapos and spark up a smoke.

The Rambla

A woman relaxes on a bench along the Rambla at Playa Pocitos

Between the beach and the blocks of high-rise apartments, the Rambla’s walking esplanade provides strollers, runners, and bicycle riders with twenty-two kilometers of a stone-mosaic pathway that lines the city’s riverfront perimeter. 

I like to take my meditative walks along the wide Rambla, especially early mornings when the streets are relatively still, relatively quiet, when the playa’s gritty sand has been swept smooth by the night’s receding tide.  Come evening, as the sun sets, as the Rio fires up a dusky orange, locals gather to socialize, their hot-water thermoses filling up their mate gourds.   

Costa Azul

Papa Gringo standing outside Costa Azul, circa 1989

For more than forty years, my favorite Pocitos beach-view café has been Costa Azul, the one at the corner of Juan Benito Blanco and Felix Buxareo.  That’s where I sit after long days of walking and sketching, where I can order up a chivito, Uruguay’s classic sizzling steak sandwich, and take long sips of the seaside air.

Retirement is not only the end of a career; it’s also the start of something new, a dawning of opportunities.  As I have for decades, I’m likely to keep visiting Montevideo, staying perhaps for a season or two, then moving on to another locale.  Or maybe, after four decades, I’ll put down roots and settle into the castellano sand.

How About You?

Got questions about Montevideo?  Where are you thinking to retire?  Let me know in the comments. 

The Tao of Watercolor

a pen-and-ink/watercolor sketch of an empty summer road in northern California.  The two-lane yellow-striped road enters from the lower right and turns upward, passing long dried grass and the long cast shadows of several telephone poles, before it disappears over the nearby hill.

Everyone needs a hobby.  Whether it’s working out at the gym, writing in a journal, tending a garden, or casting a fishing line into a stream, hobbies provide leisure and relaxation, especially for those who have recently transitioned out of the working world. 

For me, I’ve found lots of relaxing pleasure when drawing and sketching with watercolor, an activity, I’ve found, that grounds me in the center of the Tao.

Flow Over Force

Watercolor teaches us to relinquish control.  No matter how determined our egos may be to control the outcome of a painting, watercolor defies that control and, instead — guided by grace and fluidity — flows on its own terms, as if following its own will.  Likewise, Taoism teaches us to harmonize with the natural order, to embrace surprise as an ally rather than repel it as a foe.

When painting with watercolor, each stroke is a surrender of control. We learn to adapt, to gently follow rather than impose. This dance with unpredictability is not weakness:  It’s wisdom. Much like the Tao, watercolor reminds us that the soft overcomes the hard, that true freedom comes when abdicating control.

The Beauty of Impermanence

A watercolor sketch lives in the moment of creation. Its edges bleed; its colors fade.  What begins with intention often ends with surprise. Taoist philosophy holds that everything is transient — like ripples in a stream or clouds passing overhead. With watercolor, impermanence is not a flaw but a virtue.

Each layer of paint dries differently, making each image unique, sui generis. An artist develops patience and humility, accepting that no intended mark will appear as intended. When completed, what remains is the spirit of the moment — a quiet reverence for the now, captured in pigment on paper.

Wu Wei in Practice

Of course, at the heart of Taoism is the concept of wu wei — the art of doing without doing. It’s not laziness, but alignment nature’s effortless flow. When applying watercolor, forcing the ego’s intention leads to muddiness; allowing things to unfold as they naturally unfurl reveals clarity and charm. A painter becomes a partner with the painted, not its maker.

Each wash of color is a meditation in non-interference. You mix, blend and brush — all without fuss. The result is often more honest than any planned outcome:  It’s a surprise, a collaboration between intention and surrender. Rather than reward control, watercolor nurtures trust.

Harmony in Chaos

Watercolor thrives in the unpredictable. A splash lands off-center, a bloom spreads like mist — yet somehow, beauty emerges. Taoism sees chaos not as disorder, but as the fertile ground from which harmony blooms. When brushing on color, “accidents” become focal points, giving character and soul to a final image.

A happy watercolorist learns to welcome surprise, adjusting and adapting like a river that winds through rocky terrain. The painting process teaches that a sudden mess isn’t something to fear — it’s something to embrace, something to foster, an opportunity to discover the previously unforeseen.

Stillness in each Stroke

To paint with watercolor is to pause the world. Each stroke invites stillness — an awareness of brush, breath, and unfolding color. Taoist thought reveres quietude, seeing it as the root of insight and peace. In watercolor, distraction dulls the result, but presence sharpens the soul.

The rhythm of dipping, dabbing, and watching water glide becomes a slow dance with time. For many, early retirement is a time to dip and dabble and discover new things — some as big as a watercolor hobby, some as small as an unintended freckle on a watercolor portrait. Either way, the Tao takes the lead.

How About You?

What habits or hobbies do you plan to develop or already enjoy in retirement?  Let me know in the comments.