When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be.

When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be.

April 26, 2026 · 4 min read

The Philosophy of Release: Understanding Lao Tzu’s Path to Becoming

The quote “When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be” is commonly attributed to Lao Tzu, the legendary Chinese philosopher and founder of Taoism. However, the origins of this particular phrasing are somewhat murky in modern scholarship. While it captures the essence of Taoist philosophy found in the Tao Te Ching, the text traditionally attributed to Lao Tzu, scholars cannot definitively confirm he wrote these exact words. This ambiguity itself reflects something profound about Taoist thought: the most important truths often transcend individual authorship and ownership. Whether or not Lao Tzu spoke these precise words, the sentiment belongs to the tradition he established, and understanding the quote requires understanding the man and the philosophy he embodied.

Lao Tzu, whose name literally means “the Old Master,” remains one of history’s most enigmatic figures. Born sometime between the 6th and 4th centuries BCE in ancient China during the turbulent Warring States period, details about his life are scarce and often contradictory. The traditional biography describes him as a contemporary of Confucius and a keeper of the royal archives in the state of Zhou, a position of considerable learning and influence. According to legend, he spent his life observing the natural world and the patterns of human society, growing increasingly disillusioned with the artificiality and conflict he witnessed. When he finally decided to leave civilization entirely, he rode westward on a water buffalo, and at a mountain pass, a gatekeeper requested he write down his wisdom before disappearing into obscurity. This act supposedly produced the Tao Te Ching, the foundational text of Taoism, which contains roughly 5,000 words organized into 81 brief chapters or verses.

The Tao Te Ching, also known as the Daodejing in pinyin romanization, is considered one of the most translated works of literature in human history, rivaled only by the Bible. Yet this widespread translation and interpretation has led to considerable variation in meaning and emphasis depending on which version one reads. The text is deliberately paradoxical and poetic, resisting straightforward interpretation and encouraging readers to discover their own understanding. This intentional obscurity is itself a teaching method within Taoism—the notion that truth cannot be simply transmitted through language but must be experienced and internalized by each individual. The philosophy presented in the Tao Te Ching emphasizes harmony with the Tao, the ineffable, undefinable source and principle underlying all existence, often translated inadequately as “the Way.” Living in accordance with the Tao involves cultivating wu wei, or “non-action,” which doesn’t mean passivity but rather acting in perfect alignment with circumstances without forcing or resisting.

The quote in question embodies the central Taoist paradox of transformation through release. In the Taoist worldview, human suffering stems largely from excessive attachment to identity, possessions, status, and preconceived notions of how things should be. We become rigidly fixed in our self-concepts, clinging to roles that society assigns us or that we have constructed for ourselves. A person might identify as “ambitious,” “successful,” “a provider,” or “an intellectual,” and this rigid self-definition becomes a prison that prevents growth and adaptation. The Taoist insight is that by releasing these attachments, by becoming like the emptiness at the center of a wheel or the space inside a cup that makes it useful, we paradoxically become more capable and flexible. The more we cling to a fixed identity, the narrower our potential becomes. But the moment we release that fixed self-image, all possibilities become available. This is not nihilism or the elimination of self, but rather the liberation of self from unnecessary constraints.

Lao Tzu’s philosophy emerged in stark contrast to the dominant Confucianism of his time, which emphasized rigid social hierarchies, elaborate rituals, and strict codes of conduct. While Confucius sought to order society through culture and tradition, Lao Tzu advocated for returning to a natural state, untainted by excessive civilization and convention. He viewed the proliferation of laws, rules, and moral codes as signs of social decay, arguing that the more rules society creates, the more transgression becomes possible. The truly wise ruler, in Lao Tzu’s view, governed as little as possible, allowing the people to find their own way in accordance with natural principles. This revolutionary idea had profound implications for politics, ethics, and personal conduct. Instead of forcing morality through legislation and punishment, society should trust in human nature’s inherent wisdom when freed from excessive constraint. It was radical philosophy for its time, and in many ways remains challenging to contemporary hierarchical societies.

Lesser-known aspects of Lao Tzu’s life and the Taoist tradition reveal additional layers of complexity and sophistication. The historical Lao Tzu may have been multiple people whose teachings were later combined into a single legendary figure—a common phenomenon in ancient Chinese philosophy. The Tao Te Ching itself shows evidence of multiple authorship and compilation over centuries, yet this collaborative, evolutionary development actually aligns perfectly with Taoist principles about the impersonal nature of truth. Furthermore, Taoism evolved dramatically after Lao Tzu’s lifetime, eventually incorporating elements of shamanism, folk religion, alchemy, and spiritual practice, creating a much more elaborate system than the simple philosophy