100 Books Like The Way of Chuang Tzu

After photographers, poets have the sharpest eyes for the goings on and minutiae of life around them.

I love Szymborska’s poetry because with her, I walk down unknown streets, I eavesdrop conversations, I dissect a terrorist bombing. If photography helps open your eyes, Szymborska’s intimate yet vast vision opens a higher mind. She shows me life through her eyes: often puzzled, sometimes bemused, but always loving.

I love Map as it’s a generous collection of her luminous works with her last poems. Map is the final poem; it closes with the lines "… they spread before me a world /not of this world," which aptly sum up her gifts to us. 

I admit drawing a big breath before buying this book. At nearly 1200 pages of dense type, it’s no lightweight.

But years before, I had admired Fisk’s war reporting. Here, I found all the qualities I remembered: nuanced geopolitics with humanity, brutal honesty with subtle observation, pointed modern parallels from an erudite grasp of history. Then I delight in the sheer virtuosity of word craft: not surprising from someone who wrote thousands of words to deadline, sometimes shouting his despatches against cannon fire over stuttering phone lines.

Above all, I find myself repeatedly inspired by his ability to observe and note every tiny yet resonant detail: from the serial number on a rocket fragment to the shoes worn by an official.

Of the dozens of self-help books I’ve browsed or read, this book gave me tools to replace past pains and shame with pleasure and pride.

Numerous books helpfully tell you what you lack, gleefully list what you need to change. This one offers an important further step: it provides neural tools that helped me to change and make the changes last. I knew vaguely—like a small pain that is easy to ignore but which limits your movement—my ability to create, to grow ideas had always to battle a thicket of past aches, struggles, and fears.

This book not only helped me through that—it’s a guide, consequently, to lead a longer, richer life. Without a doubt, it’s one of the most transformational books in my life.

From my school days, Ernst Haas’ photography has been a source of inspiration and exasperation, even intimidation.

Creation is his crowning glory, not only for the peerless elegance of his images, but also for his masterclass in pacing and book design. I love the boldness of a double-page spread with nothing but an arc of light.

I love the quiet studies in which not a blade of grass or minute drop of water is misplaced. It inspired my journey in photography before I even owned a camera, and right now I can shiver from an immersion in its magisterial vision.

The ancient Chinese text Zhuangzi/Chuang Tzu has been translated many times, but Burton Watson’s 1968 version is still my favorite, best capturing the wit and humor of this playful Daoist.

Chuang Tzu constantly pokes at our philosophical and moral presumptions. Reading him, I feel my smugness and arrogance melting away in favor of joyful doubt and wonder. Chuang Tzu dreams he is a butterfly, flitting about, doing just as he pleases, and then he wakes up, solid and unmistakable Chuang. But is he a human who has just dreamed he was a butterfly or a butterfly now dreaming he’s a human?

Instead of rushing about busily, thinking we understand things, maybe we should doze beneath a giant, useless tree in the field of the bright and boundless.

For a long time the ancient Chinese Daoist text known as the Zhuangzi didn’t make sense to me: He wrote long ago and far away, in a language I wasn’t born into, and perhaps was answering questions I didn’t know to ask.

The elegantly drawn lines of this illustrated version perfectly convey the grace of the Zhuangzi, and the translator’s conversational style perfectly conveys its down-to-earth, practical realism. As I became more comfortable with ancient China and my language skills improved enough to read the original, I still came back to C. C. Tsai and marveled at how well he and his translator captured the spirit of the Zhuangzi.

This is a great introduction to the Taoist philosophy of Zhuangzi, as rendered by Taiwanese cartoonist Tsai. These short comic strips are instantly inviting, and rendered in an animated, funny style that feels effortless. Tsai emphasizes the humor and subversive qualities of the original text, but his approach is reverent, too, as he lays out Zhuangzi’s deep lessons on each page.

Translated many times under different titles, this is my favorite edition, influencing my life planning journey. The text is an intermingling of Buddhist, Taoist, and Confucian thought.

Huanchu Daoren (who goes by various names) was a retired civil servant, as were many great philosophers and mystics in China. His book is written in brief paragraphs, each paragraph is a teaching of ethics or of spirit.

I carried a tiny version of the book that fit in the palm of my hand wherever I went for about ten years when I was going through the toughest time in my life just to give myself encouragement. Whenever I dipped into it, reading three or four sentences, I would feel as if there was something more profound than what I was going through. 

While I could list many great books on backpacking and hiking trails, there are few books devoted to trail building. I’ll leave behind trail building and focus on a poet, Cold Mountain, who, like those of us who were trail builders, lived in the woods. Cold Mountain, an ancient Chinese poet, wrote his poems on rocks and bark and scattered them across his Tiantai Mountains. These poems are beautiful meditations on landscapes, wildness, Taoism/Buddhism, and politics.

This might seem an odd book for enhancing your relationship with creativity, but if you struggle with doubts, creative fears (such as a fear of rejection or criticism), the imposter syndrome, anxiety about not being good enough to create what you feel called to create, or other limiting beliefs, the Acceptance Commitment Therapy (ACT) techniques that this book focuses on are just what the doctor ordered. 

Essentially, ACT borrows insights and teachings from older nondual philosophies such as Zen, Buddhism, and Taoism, and puts them in a more conventional, research-based package. Personally, I think ACT doesn’t go nearly far enough to address the root causes of suffering. However, The Happiness Trap gives a quick, easy-to-grasp introduction to some useful techniques that most readers can put into practice right away to create a more “rich and meaningful life.”