The Tao Te Ching
自见者不明，自是者不彰。
自伐者无功，自矜者不长。
其在道也，曰余食赘行。
物或恶之，故有道者不处。
He who stands on tiptoe is not steady.
He who strides too far cannot maintain the pace.
He who displays himself is not enlightened.
He who asserts his own correctness is not distinguished.
He who boasts of his own merit has no real achievement.
He who brags about himself will not endure.
From the perspective of the Tao, these are called "leftover food and redundant actions."
Because all things dislike them, those who possess the Tao do not dwell in them.
Lao Tzu uses the physical metaphor of standing on tiptoes to illustrate that artificial elevation inevitably leads to instability.
When you strain to be taller or faster than your natural capacity allows, you lose your connection to the ground.
This posture of tension is inherently fragile; while it may offer a momentary advantage in height, it sacrifices endurance and balance.
The Tao teaches that true power comes from being grounded, not from overextending oneself to appear superior.
Trying to force progress through "striding" (taking unnaturally large steps) actually slows you down because it exhausts your energy reserves quickly.
Sustainable growth requires finding a rhythm that aligns with your natural state rather than fighting against it.
Think of a runner who sprints wildly at the start of a marathon only to collapse miles before the finish line.
Or consider a business that expands aggressively without building a solid infrastructure, eventually crumbling under its own weight.
The text warns that seeking external validation through showing off actually obscures one's true light and diminishes real influence.
When a person is desperate to be seen ("displays himself"), it paradoxically reveals an inner emptiness or deep insecurity.
A light that needs to scream for attention is usually compensating for a lack of genuine brilliance or substance.
True enlightenment and distinction are self-evident; they do not require a marketing campaign or loud assertions of correctness.
When you stop trying to prove you are right, people are more likely to listen to you because your confidence is quiet and assured.
The ego's noise drowns out the subtle signal of wisdom, pushing others away instead of drawing them in.
A manager who constantly reminds the team of their authority usually commands the least amount of genuine respect.
Similarly, an artist who must explain at length why their art is profound often fails to move the audience emotionally.
Lao Tzu uses visceral, almost grotesque imagery here, comparing boasting and pride to "leftover food" or "redundant growths."
These are things that are not only unnecessary but actively harmful to the health of the organism.
Just as the body naturally rejects spoiled food or tumors, the Tao—and the social world—rejects excessive ego.
It feels repulsive to others; it blocks the natural flow of connection rather than facilitating it.
Living in accordance with the Tao means trimming away this fat and discarding the need for applause so we can function cleanly.
It involves a hygiene of the soul where we remove the "tumors" of pride to return to simplicity.
The feeling of awkwardness in a room when someone won't stop talking about their achievements is a natural rejection of this "excess."
We naturally gravitate away from the arrogant and toward the humble, just as we instinctively avoid rotting food.
The Problem: A high-achieving leader feels the need to constantly "stand on tiptoes" by working late hours, micromanaging every detail, and visibly suffering to prove their dedication. They believe that unless they are visibly straining and exhausted, they aren't succeeding. This leads to physical burnout, poor decision-making, and a team that feels anxious and untrusted.
The Taoist Solution: The solution is to plant the heels firmly on the ground. Stop the performative overwork and trust that steady, grounded competence is more effective than frantic activity. By relaxing into the role and pacing oneself, the leader gains stability. The work becomes sustainable, the mind clears, and the team respects the quiet confidence of a leader who doesn't need to prove their worth through exhaustion.
The Problem: An individual feels depressed because their life doesn't match the curated highlight reels of others online. They begin to "display themselves" by posting exaggerated successes or staged photos to garner likes. They are "striding" to catch up with an illusion, feeling a constant, gnawing anxiety that they are not being seen or validated enough by the digital crowd.
The Taoist Solution: Recognize these posts as "leftover food"—unnecessary excess that nourishes no one. The Taoist approach is to withdraw from the competition of appearances. Post less, live more. Find contentment in the action itself, not the digital applause. When you stop trying to curate a persona, you become "enlightened" about your own reality. You discover that your actual life, with its quiet moments, is far richer than the pixelated version you were trying to sell.
The Problem: In a relationship or workplace discussion, a person constantly "asserts their own correctness." They interrupt to prove they are right, refuse to admit small errors, and view every conversation as a battle to be won. They think this shows intelligence, but it actually alienates colleagues and loved ones, causing others to avoid sharing honest feedback or new ideas with them.
The Taoist Solution: This is "standing on tiptoes" intellectually. The solution is to drop the need to be the smartest person in the room. Practice silence when the urge to correct arises. Understand that true distinction comes from listening and synthesizing, not dominating. By letting go of the need to be right (self-assertion), you allow space for truth to emerge naturally. Others will begin to trust you more, seeing you as a source of wisdom rather than a source of conflict.