When Softness Overcomes Hardness
Shahar Levy
Of the core principals of Taijiquan and Daosim, the soft overcoming the hard, is a fundamental concept that guides our practice and life.
One of the most iconic Chinese sayings that captures the heart of Taijiquan is: 以柔克刚 (Yǐ róu kè gāng) — “softness overcomes hardness.”
The origin of this concept comes from the Dao De Jing (道德经, Dàodéjīng), a foundational Chinese text filled with timeless wisdom about nature, balance, and harmony. Written by the ancient philosopher Laozi, who was born in the 6th century BC in the state of Chu — in what is now Henan Province — Laozi is considered one of the most influential thinkers in history, and is recognized as the founder of Daoism.
In Chapter 43 of the Dao De Jing, Laozi says:
The softest thing under heaven Overcomes the hardest thing under heaven. That which has no substance can enter where there is no space. Thus I know the value of non-action (wu wei). Teaching without words, Acting without striving — Few in the world can grasp their worth.
At first glance, it might sound a bit poetic, or even a little cryptic. But once you step into the world of Taijiquan, this phrase becomes incredibly real. It’s not just a martial arts principle — it’s a way of life that guides us in the everyday.
In Taijiquan, we aim not to meet force with force. We learn to yield, to flow, to adapt. Instead of pushing back against what life throws at us, we redirect and absorb — turning challenges into opportunities, and failures into lessons.
When we try to control everything and believe that brute strength alone will suffice, we often end up breaking — physically, emotionally, and even spiritually. But when we stay soft and grounded, we remain resilient, like bamboo bending in the wind.
A Deeper Lesson Behind the Practice of Taijiquan
Taijiquan teaches us something precious: how to conserve energy and stop burning ourselves out. The practice encourages us to let go of unnecessary tension — in our bodies, our thoughts, and our hearts.
Movement in Taiji requires mindful attention. When we practice, we not only train our muscles and tendons, but more importantly, our awareness and focus. We learn to move with intention, to breathe more deeply, and to carry ourselves with calmness instead of reactivity. As we continue, we begin to notice when we’re wasting energy — whether it’s in a tight shoulder, a clenched jaw, or a racing mind. Over time, we develop a new language with our bodies, and become able to listen more carefully to what they’re telling us.
As the years go by, Taijiquan becomes less about “doing” and more about being. It’s not a workout in the traditional sense. There’s no specific aim or goal to achieve — it’s a way of realigning ourselves with the natural rhythms of life.
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