Wu-wei is a concept essential to Taoism. It essentially means something like “acting without acting” or “non-action.” Please note at the outset that it is not to be confused with “inaction.” There is nothing especially Taoist about spending all day on the couch (there may be other good reasons to do that, but wu-wei is not one of them).
Instead, wu-wei is a way of approaching action. It means not forcing things, not acting hastily or unnecessarily, and not overthinking. You might also translate it for our times as “not trying so hard.” Again – do not confuse this with not trying at all! It is a matter of attention, focus, and attitude. Behind all this is the key idea of the Tao, the Taoist ultimate reality. “Tao” means “way,” both in the sense of a path (“Do you know the way to San Jose?”) and of a manner of behaving (“That’s the way we do things around here!”). The Tao is the basic force of life, and it constantly moves, like a vast current. Water is a very common image for the Tao:
The supreme good is like water,
which nourishes all things without trying to.
It is content with the low places that people disdain.
Thus, it is like the Tao.
(Tao Te Ching, Chapter 8, trans. Stephen Mitchell)
You can see the “not trying” right there. More importantly, though, notice the practical attention to water in motion: it flows down, and will seek the lowest point, if you let it and if that’s the best route. Water follows the path of least resistance. It does not judge; it simply keeps moving – maximum mobility with minimum effort. This is the Tao.
The Taoist ideal is to embody the Tao. This means following the Way in two senses: as a model, and as a path. The lines above describe the Tao, but also describe the proper attitude: be like that. Be like water, which does not judge, but does what is necessary and adapts to its surroundings. Likewise, since the Tao is itself like a flowing current, do not push against it. Let its movement move you. The Taoist confidence in “non-action” is rooted in the constant non-action of the Tao. Reality is in motion, pushing us along. It benefits us to go along with it. It causes us unnecessary strain to swim against the current. So why make things harder on yourself? To “act without acting” is to act in harmony with the Tao, and to let the motion of this ultimate Force help you on your way.
Therefore the Master
acts without doing anything
and teaches without saying anything.
Things arise and she lets them come;
things disappear and she lets them go.
She has, but doesn’t possess,
acts but doesn’t expect.
When her work is done, she forgets it.
That is why it lasts forever.
(Tao Te Ching, Chapter 2, trans. Stephen Mitchell)
Again, notice here that the emphasis is on attitude toward action more than a specific action itself. It does not say that the Master never acts at all. She acts, but in a certain way – without self-consciously “doing something” or expecting a certain result. She is not possessive of her time or of credit or of a certain hard-and-fast plan. She takes things as they come, and lets things go as they go.
So what might it mean to bring this idea of wu-wei into teaching? Clearly it is not a matter of just sitting at a desk at the front of the room doing nothing (although knowing when to get out of the way is a key part of wu-wei)! The verses quoted above do describe the Master partly in her teaching function. She “teaches without saying anything,” and we should always be aware of what we are non-verbally teaching through body language, demeanor, interaction styles, what we focus on in lessons, and so forth. Wu-wei as a teaching principle, however, is also a chance to reflect on our attitude toward the whole teaching enterprise. Are we willing to adapt? What sort of things do we walk into the classroom “possessing?” Are we willing to let those things go? Are we willing to have confidence in the bigger, unseen momentum of a class dynamic or of a semester? Are we willing to trust the “Tao,” the “way,” of our teaching, and of our students’ learning? If we embody wu-wei as instructors, what other values might it produce? What follows are some ideas.
Flexibility – Lesson plans take work. We all know this. And we all want our work to pay off. But a wu-wei approach to lessons means really understanding that our best laid plans may not work or may go off the rails or may get pre-empted by some unforeseen issue…and being okay with that. This may mean seeing a class session less like a script we are reading, with lines and motions to be dutifully followed, and more like a game, with certain rules set up that allow evolving combinations of “plays.” It means being open to whatever comes, which might be an equipment failure or a student issue or a really brilliant tangential comment or something else entirely, and being willing to make the best of it. In my graduate school days, I was once leading a discussion section when my students and I noticed that someone dressed as Spider-Man was climbing the rocky wall of the building next door. It was not, I should add, near Halloween. So we all paused, checked out the climber, had a good laugh, wished them well, and carried on. More to the point, writer (and teacher) Frederick Buechner tells the story of a winter day he walked to class and noticed a beautiful sunset happening, so he got to his west-facing classroom and suddenly turned off the lights. He and his whole class just stopped and watched the sun set for about 20 minutes. “What was great was the unbusy-ness of it,” he writes. “It was taking unlabeled, unallotted time to just look with maybe more than our eyes at what was wonderfully there to be looked at without any obligation to think constructive thoughts about it or turn it to any useful purpose later” (The Hungering Dark, p.75). It was simply an exercise in attention and appreciation. Obviously, giving over every class to sunset-gazing is a bad idea. But in that moment, it was a good idea. And it was good wu-wei.
Patience – Following on the above, this means patience with ourselves and with students. However, it can also mean remembering to see the long game. Maybe a class will need longer with certain skills or material. Maybe you need to slow yourself down, and put less in each period, plan, or lecture. Wu-wei is a reminder to keep the essentials in view. Eventually, that water will flow downhill. Public schools in suitable climates build snow days into their schedules. Wu-wei teaching might mean building some catch-up days or simply unscheduled available days in to a syllabus, with the idea that more time can be spent where it might need to be. It might also mean just showing grace when something doesn’t work the first time. Or becoming comfortable with the inevitable silences in discussions. Just as the Taoist master has confidence in the motion of the Tao, we might try having confidence that things are happening even if we (or students) can’t immediately see them. Patience is also a great thing to teach without words: students brought up in an instant-gratification culture will benefit from trying on a different attitude and seeing it at work.
Humility – This is a hard one, but it is the result of learning to be like water that does not disdain any route. There is a power dynamic in teaching, and we all try to cultivate some air of authority (to keep order, if nothing else). That said, more authority, I have found, comes from honesty than from trying to hard to be someone you are not. Wu-wei reminds us that we are a part of something greater, and that bigger and varying forces are at work around us. This does not even have to carry spiritual weight, if you’d prefer it not: our students’ attitudes and aptitudes, the larger academic culture of our schools, trends in our chosen disciplines, and even the weather are all acting all the time to shape our environment. We can only do so much. Even more practically, good teaching enables students without doing things for them, so we literally can only do so much – students must always do work themselves. As an instructor, I always find that both exciting (“look what I can help them do”) and humbling (“look how well they did all on their own…ooh, or didn’t!”). Considering wu-wei in teaching invites us to be honest about our capabilities, our personalities, and our environments, and, like water, to humbly flow through them. This, too, can be an invaluable wordless lesson. I still recall the day someone asked one of my grad school professors a question in class about a text…and he replied that he didn’t know the answer, “so let’s all see if we can find out together.” I was impressed, and I took that sensibility with me into my own teaching.
Reflection questions:
- What does “maximum mobility with minimum effort” mean to you? Are there places in your life & work you already try to achieve this? What does it look like?
- How much space do you build into your syllabi or lesson plans for unforeseen events or issues?
- Do you ever catch students “trying too hard” and causing themselves stress? How do you help them if you do? Do you help yourself in similar ways?
- How much time do you spend thinking about the “big picture” of a course or a semester? Do you try to communicate that picture to your students?
- What aspects of your teaching are you comfortable giving up some control over? Which aspects do you definitely want to control? How realistic are these goals?
- What would it look like to make confidence an outcome of your classes? Of your own professional development?
- Where might it be useful to think of yourself as teaching a “way” along with specific content or skills? How would you describe the Tao of your discipline? Of your classroom? Of your teaching?
To Go a Little Deeper
- Two accessible versions of classic Taoist texts are the Tao Te Ching translated by Stephen Mitchell (Harper Perennial, 2006), and The Way of Chuang Tzu translated by Thomas Merton (New Directions, 2010).
- Buechner’s story can be found in The Hungering Dark (Harper Collins, 1985).
- A useful take on teaching-without-words can be found in Teaching with Your Mouth Shut by Donald Finkel (Heinemann, 2000).
- If “the Tao” reminds you of “the Force” from Star Wars, good catch – there is a lot of Taoist influence on the Jedi’s ideas, especially as explained by Yoda in The Empire Strikes Back. In fact, Stephen Mitchell originally planned his “Tao Te Ching” translation to be in Yoda’s voice! It’s a good pop-culture way to introduce Taoist ideas to classes. Students may also think of the catchphrase “This is the Way,” from “The Mandalorian,” although the Mandalorians’ Way is more Confucian than Taoist. But that’s for another time…
Brantley Craig 
2 Comments