Field Notes
Most people like them, unless they work in one. They mark the start of a trip, a brief escape from the little things that fill life: unread emails, neighbours you avoid, bills stuffed in a drawer. For a moment, those annoyances fall away. You’re in a half-world, a limbo full of strangers, each on the same mission: to leave, to go somewhere else, to believe, if only briefly, that life is simpler.
But the excitement never lasts. Airports have their own chaos. People moving with bags that are definitely too big, weaving through crowds while scanning screens for gates. Coffee that costs too much and tastes average. Seats designed to keep you awake. Charging points that pretend to work but don’t.
At first, it’s fine, even exciting. Then the screen flashes “Delayed” or “Cancelled.” Suddenly, you’re stuck. Time stretches. You’re trapped in a space not meant to hold you. All you can do is wait, move your bags, pace, and wonder if and when you’ll get out.
Being stuck in life feels the same. You can’t go back. The path forward isn’t clear. Life becomes its own liminal space.
It’s as if the pandemic never left us
In the past few years, I’ve noticed more people feeling stuck. Careers stall. Businesses struggle. Restaurants close at record numbers. What once felt clear and full of energy is replaced by uncertainty and helplessness. Everywhere you look, there’s something to worry about: wars, divisiveness, climate disasters, floods, earthquakes, inflation, AI replacing jobs. The old idea that if you work hard, play nice, and keep going, things will sort themselves out doesn’t seem to hold anymore.
We’re told to adapt and everything will be fine. I saw an ad the other day. “If you’re not using AI, you’ll lose to the people who are.” A little fear-mongering, but not uncommon. A few years ago, it was motion graphics and UI/UX. Before that, coding. Now, apparently, plumbing might be the only safe bet. Technology moves so fast it feels like you’re chasing your own shadow. Change has always been constant, but now it feels faster, sharper, more visible. A strategist I work with describes it as “This isn’t a change of era. It’s an era of change.”
This is what being stuck feels like. You don’t know what is ahead, and you can’t go back. The path forward is opaque, like throwing darts in the dark. You’re unsure how or if you’ll ever get out.
What being stuck feels like
Many writers have explored it. Seth Godin calls it a cul de sac, the point where no matter how much you dig, you don’t move forward. David Brooks calls it the valley between two mountains, where what you built before no longer feels meaningful. Steven Pressfield calls it resistance, an invisible force that shows up whenever we try to do creative work: fear, procrastination, self-doubt, all aiming to keep you from doing the work that matters most.
Anne-Laure Le Cunff puts it well in Tiny Experiments: uncertainty becomes fuel for anxiety. We overthink every possibility and conjure worst-case scenarios. Her approach: treat uncertainty as a playground. Small, deliberate experiments let us explore, learn, and gradually transform ourselves.
Carl Jung called it a phase of individuation. We cannot return to who we were, but we do not yet know what we are becoming.
Everywhere you look, there’s a book or article promising to show you how to get unstuck. But as the saying goes: to solve old problems, read old books.
One of the most translated books of all time, dating back around 2,500 years, the Tao Te Ching is tiny: 81 short chapters, most not even filling a page. Yet the less it says, the more it reveals. A lifetime of wisdom you can read in an afternoon, and that slowly unravels the more you return to it.
Who wrote it? That’s a mystery. Lao Tzu might have been real, or maybe not. Some say it’s a collection of voices over time. Like much Eastern philosophy, the goal was simple: help people liberate themselves and see the world as it is, not as they wish it to be.
In the book, Lao Tzu offers practical ways to free ourselves from feeling stuck. There’s a lot packed in there, so I’ll just touch on three key ideas.
1. Non-Duality
We spend most of our lives seeing everything in opposites. Good or bad. Right or wrong. Ahead or behind. Tao Te Ching says it’s not like that. One thing only makes sense because of the other. Happiness exists because there’s sadness. Light matters because there’s dark. Everything is connected, part of the same thing, not a fight between two sides.
Non-duality is seeing life as it is, without judging it. Chasing only the good and avoiding the bad just spins you in circles. Pause. Don’t measure. Don’t try to control. There’s only what’s in front of you, this moment that won’t come again. Look at it. Really look. Stop liking, stop disliking. That’s when life starts to make sense.
We assume action is progress. If we’re not moving or producing, we worry we’re falling behind. It’s easy to tie our worth to output. We do things to be seen, to prove we exist, to leave marks even when nothing needs marking. Doing nothing feels wrong, almost irresponsible. Sitting just to sit feels like failure.
The Tao Te Ching talks about Wu Wei, often translated as effortless action or acting without attachment. It’s not about doing nothing, but about acting without forcing the world to bend to your will. Water meets a rock and it doesn’t smash through. It slides past, finds another path, keeps going. Lao Tzu writes, “Doing nothing is better than being busy doing nothing. When nothing is done, nothing is left undone.” Water adapts, yields, flows, and still shapes mountains. We can do the same. Act only where action is needed. Let go of forcing. See the world as it is, move with its nature, and things will find their way.
3. Non-attachment
We’re told to do more, climb higher, grab bigger rewards. More profit, more recognition, more clients, more projects. Desire feels like a contract to be unhappy until we get it. And when we finally do, it rarely satisfies for long. There’s always the next thing to chase. The more we achieve, the more we feel compelled to keep going. It’s exhausting and keeps us from noticing what’s already here.
The Tao Te Ching offers a different way: simplify, let go, stop clinging to outcomes, rewards, or expectations. Life doesn’t need to be complicated. The less we desire, the lighter we feel, and the more we notice what’s in front of us. Act for the sake of acting, not for the reward. Where you are going does not need to matter more than where you are. Let go of wanting so much. The present becomes enough, and in that enough, everything else falls into place.
The self we carry is mostly a story. Memories, past versions, ideas of who we should be. Lao Tzu says forget it. Let go of the past, stop worrying about the future. There is only what’s in front of you. Empty the cup. Look at the world like a child, noticing things for the first time, without bias or expectation.
He speaks of Pu, the uncarved block or plain wood. Simple, untouched, full of potential. That’s something to aim for. Let the details and bigger picture reveal themselves naturally.
Stop trying to control everything and life becomes a kind of carefree wandering, open to what comes. You move about life like water: soft, yielding, unstoppable. It flows past obstacles, takes the shape of whatever contains it, gives without asking for credit. Being like water means staying flexible, present, and unblocked by fear or control.
A life chasing purpose too tightly misses everything. A purposeless life, moving without hurry or goal, misses nothing.
In The Terminal, Viktor is asked, “Are you coming or going?” He answers, “I don’t know. Both.” That’s what Tao Te Ching is about. An acceptance of uncertainty, rather than forcing a binary choice. Saying “I don’t know” frees you from attachment to outcomes, removing the need to control.
Eventually, you realise you understand nothing. Seeing everything as it is, “I don’t know” becomes deep listening. You notice each moment, the empty spaces, the possibilities hiding in plain sight. Seeing where you are without forcing or judging turns each moment into a fresh start. A chance to act without clinging, to move with the flow, to let go of expectations. A moment to be a beginner again, curious, open, unburdened. And if you don’t know what to do next, maybe that is exactly the point.
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Felix Ng
Co-founder, Anonymous
@felix.anonymous