To be who I am—to breathe from my heels, as Taoist master Chuang Tzu specified—it will be immediately helpful to relinquish past and future. Why? There’s no breath there. No rhythm.
To borrow from a Trappist monk, the wisdom of Lao Tzu—conceived as his mother traced the arc of a falling star, carried in her womb for 62 years, delivered while she leaned against a plum tree—sleeps in China’s paper flesh like dynamite. “When nothing is done, nothing is left undone.” In a related development, it’s been 50 years since the Beatles released their paean of praise, Let It Be.