> Daoism also appears to have taken a literalist turn (ironically).
It's incredibly ironic. To those who wonder where the irony is, imagine writing a book of poems on "freesbeing", which you describe as an ineffable experience that one gets when they play the freesbee. In your book, most passages allude to subtleties that escape any reader who isn't a freesbee enthousiast. And so, only those who pick up a freesbee and start throwing it unlock the meaning in your book. Then thousands of years later, intellectuals try to explain "freesbeing" without knowing what even is the freesbee.
Daoism is a practical guide to a mystical way of life. Similar to the teachings of Buddhist mystics, Advaitist mystics, Christian mystics, Sufi mystics, and so forth. Most such teachings are very practical and somewhat point in the same (inner) direction. A shared core tenet is that experiences are infinitely more valid (i.e. true) than the content of thoughts (i.e. concepts, philosophy, beliefs, labels, words, etc) used to describe them. Said more commonly, the mind -- the craddle of thoughts, the mother of all concepts, explanations, and philosophies -- is a liar. This is peppered everywhere in the Tao Te Ching, starting from the very first line. Yet, most interpretations of it are conceptual, trying to make it into some kind of a philosophy.
I don't know how much the modern take on stoicism diverges from its historical origins, but I'm among those who believe that it ultimately pumps a delusion: that one can solve mind aches with mind hacks. Contemplative mystics (e.g. Zen, Dao) can recognize in stoicism some elemental truths --mainly that our emotions tend to be driven by the fiction created by thoughts--, but they also see it as incomplete at best and at worst, just another misguided attempt at trusting the mind as a solution architect to the problems that it creates, which often results in other subtler problems like bypassing.
Such traditions don't practice control or avoidance of emotions, but rather use them as teaching devices through aware observation when they manifest in experience (bodily sensations and thoughts). Through this "witnessing" there's realization of their fundamental nature, along with surrendering and integration of shadow elements. On the surface the result may appear the same as what stoicism purports to give you, but there's a radical difference. Where stoicism aims for thought-driven control, mystics know there's none to be found and instead encourage to trust in and to reconnect with our intuitive nature. Allow pain, feel it fully, let it go, and return in the flow.
If you're not into mysticism, but are interested in this kind of work for the practical purpose of navigating your experience of life with less suffering, here's a secular curriculum: start with some embodiment practice (contemplation in bodily sensations, yoga nidra, body scan meditations, soft butter meditations, Tai Chi, Qigong, any physical activity done with heightened awareness of the body), find a good teacher or therapist to guide you into Shadow Work, supplement with regular Trauma and Tension Release Exercises (TRE), sprinkle some Loving Kindness meditations to take things to another level. Do this and you won't just look the part, you'll feel it to your core.
> Where stoicism aims for thought-driven control, mystics know there's none to be found and instead encourage to trust in and to reconnect with our intuitive nature. Allow pain, feel it fully, let it go, and return in the flow.
The idea that thought is also ultimately driven by intuitions is one that stoics would've been quite familiar with. Part of the problem here is a definitional matter: should we restrict our view solely to the negative emotions, or admit that a positive "spirit" also exists in us that's ultimately just as intuitive and emotional? There isn't one single answer AIUI; both views are useful for different purposes, but it's true that a more "mystical" point of view could lead us to the latter. Some of the Stoics do talk about notions like "the good and bad daimon (or genius)" in ways that might somehow hint at the same reality, even though these intuitions are quite hard to understand in a modern context.
A tip about independent projects on a resume. Put yourself as an employee, a hired contractor, or just a technical co-founder. Don't mention that you're the solo or main founder, unless it's a far past project. I've learned the hard way that regardless of what they may say about looking for autonomous, free thinking, resourceful, self-starters, basically all the qualities of an entrepreneur, employers balk at the label. Some will reject a good profile if they don't feel that you'll be around for more than 2 years, even though many of their recent hires are gone shortly after a single year.
List what the technical challenges of the projects were, what its promoters expected, and how you addressed everything. Don't let entrepreneurial merits overshadow technical ones, especially if you're not after a position like product manager in a company that truly understands how to employ entrepreneurs.
Another way to think about it is that the perception that someone else took a risk on you seems more valuable to employers than you being crazy enough, audacious enough, or courageous enough to dare take on life.
My last engagement was exactly 2 years ago, after nearly 3 years struggling with successive difficult working environments (bad employer, bad project, bad client). My savings ran out 12 months ago and I still couldn't find a job. Since then I've lived frugally, off of my line of credit and credit cards. Moving to a cheaper country helped to slow the bleeding.
After my last client 2 years ago, I got into reading/listening to philosophy, which eventually led to a steady contemplative practice. 3 months into it, it became difficult to motivate myself to do anything except listen to guided meditations, satsangs by various teachers, contemplate into the sense of self, or go on daily long walks across town doing the same.
A year ago, some motivation came back, which allowed me to do a few coding problems every day. Then about 5 months ago, I started to let go of some personal attachments (identity patterns, beliefs about me, about life, about the world, about my place in it) and motivation started to steadily come back in, but with a lot of detachment. 3 months ago I started prepping to find a job again. I bought a few books and joined a few online courses to fill the gaps in my resume. I've accepted that I may need to get back on the horse at half my previous salary. I think I would be fine with even a third and probably less, if it didn't look so suspicious to my would-be employer, lol. I have an unwavering trust that things will work themselves out just fine, so even when I experience bouts of stress, they're quite brief.
I have some short term goals, but little ambitions. I can still see the achiever in me, but he's slowly dying. I'm fine with that. I'm trying to be fine with how the world is generally. If I feel that I can help make things easier for someone right now, I can try. But I've accepted that I'm no messiah. There are no messiah. Nobody knows shit about how this or that ought to be. Now or in the future. I'm coming to peace with success really meaning experiencing breath or taking a step.
Lately, I've started adding some of the new skills that I acquired in my resume and it correlated with some reactions on my latest applications. Causation? Maybe, I don't know, but there's hope. One thing that will probably change even after I find work, is that I'll execute on my other interests, which I kept putting off, because of some far away grandiose objectives. My recent struggles with money and employment in tech have also revealed a vulnerability and a dependency. I see that I need to be more resilient and adaptable. Next time the industry comes up with new interesting shenanigans to test me, I'll probably be moving on to something else. Beekeeping, fungiculture, soap making, or whatever. I'll probably even start a few projects on the side while employed. I love coding and will probably keep doing it until my mind wavers, but it has to stop being my identity.
> Daoism also appears to have taken a literalist turn (ironically).
It's incredibly ironic. To those who wonder where the irony is, imagine writing a book of poems on "freesbeing", which you describe as an ineffable experience that one gets when they play the freesbee. In your book, most passages allude to subtleties that escape any reader who isn't a freesbee enthousiast. And so, only those who pick up a freesbee and start throwing it unlock the meaning in your book. Then thousands of years later, intellectuals try to explain "freesbeing" without knowing what even is the freesbee.
Daoism is a practical guide to a mystical way of life. Similar to the teachings of Buddhist mystics, Advaitist mystics, Christian mystics, Sufi mystics, and so forth. Most such teachings are very practical and somewhat point in the same (inner) direction. A shared core tenet is that experiences are infinitely more valid (i.e. true) than the content of thoughts (i.e. concepts, philosophy, beliefs, labels, words, etc) used to describe them. Said more commonly, the mind -- the craddle of thoughts, the mother of all concepts, explanations, and philosophies -- is a liar. This is peppered everywhere in the Tao Te Ching, starting from the very first line. Yet, most interpretations of it are conceptual, trying to make it into some kind of a philosophy.
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