Walking Two Paths to the Same Summit: Virtue in the Tao and Stoicism

There are mountains whose peaks are hidden in clouds, and yet the summit is the same whether you climb from the north or the south. So too with virtue. In both the Taoist and Stoic traditions, virtue is the summit—yet each path approaches it from a different slope, through differing climates of thought.

My own journey began after I left the Christian church, seeking something deeper than doctrine—something that could guide my inner life rather than define it from the outside. In that searching, I first found Taoism, then Stoicism. Though different in form and language, both traditions became companions on the same climb. I came to see them not as competing ideologies, but as complementary ways of walking toward wisdom and spiritual clarity.

The Hua Hu Ching—a classic Taoist text attributed to Lao Tzu—guides its reader away from superficial religion and dualistic thought and toward a life of unselfconscious, selfless virtue:

Chanting is no more holy than listening to the murmur of a stream,
counting prayer beads no more sacred than simply breathing,
religious robes no more spiritual than work clothes…
Find contentment in the practice of undiscriminating virtue, the only true power.” (Hua Hu Ching, 47)

This passage strips away the trappings of spirituality. Virtue does not reside in externals—robes, rituals, chants—but in a quiet, consistent alignment with the Tao, which is not a doctrine but a way. This spoke directly to the part of me that had grown disillusioned with performative faith. Taoism gave me permission to release outer forms and dwell in simplicity.

Surprisingly, I found similar wisdom in the Stoic tradition. Marcus Aurelius, writing from the camp of a Roman frontier rather than a mountain hermitage, echoes the same essential call:

“Look within. Do not allow the special quality of anything to pass you by.” (Meditations, 6.3)

“The universe is transformation: life is opinion.” (Meditations, 4.3)

Virtue in Stoicism, as in Taoism, is not something to be performed. It is the harmonizing of oneself with Nature—whether we call that the Tao or Logos. For the Stoics, Nature is rational, divine, and purposeful. To live “according to nature” is to live according to reason, fulfilling our roles as rational and social beings.

Both schools call us to let go of dualistic illusions. Taoism calls it the “sickness” of thought that pits sacred against profane. Stoicism calls it the error of misjudging externals as good or bad.

“Dualistic thinking is a sickness. Religion is a distortion. Materialism is cruel. Blind spirituality is unreal.” (Hua Hu Ching, 47)

This critique parallels Epictetus’ refusal to call wealth, pleasure, or fame good. They are merely “preferred indifferents.” The only true good is virtue—rooted in wise, just, courageous, and temperate choice. Epictetus taught:

“Seek not for events to happen as you wish, but wish for events to happen as they do, and your life will go smoothly.” (Enchiridion, 8)

This surrender to reality is not passivity but inner freedom. It resonates with Taoist wu wei—non-forced action. Not inaction, but action in accordance with the flow of things. Similarly, the Stoic sage acts deliberately but without inner turmoil, in accord with the Logos.

Both systems emphasize humility. The Taoist sage avoids names and recognition. The Stoic sage treats fame as smoke.

“Giving to others selflessly and anonymously, radiating light throughout the world and illuminating your own darknesses…” (Hua Hu Ching, 47)

“When you do a good deed and another has profited by it, why do you still look, as fools do, for a third thing besides—credit for the good deed or a return?” (Meditations, 7.73)

The point is not to be seen as virtuous—but to be virtuous. Not to be called wise—but to be wise. In both traditions, virtue becomes a kind of sanctuary—not only for the self, but for all beings. It’s not thunderous; it’s quiet. Not proud, but persistent.

And both teach that what separates us from this way is not a lack of knowledge but a misalignment of the self. The Taoist sheds concepts. The Stoic disciplines his impressions (phantasiai), giving assent only to what is clear, rational, and in his control.

“If you wish to attain oneness with the Tao, don’t get caught up in spiritual superficialities… Instead, live a quiet and simple life.” (Hua Hu Ching, 47)

“Be like the rocky headland on which the waves constantly break. It stands firm, and round it the seething waters are laid to rest.” (Meditations, 4.49)

Though the Taoist language flows and the Stoic structure is austere, they converge on the same truth: virtue is not found in thinking more, having more, or doing more. It is found in living with simplicity, clarity, integrity, and compassion—undaunted by praise or pain, undivided within oneself.

For both Lao Tzu and Marcus Aurelius, the path is not about believing. It’s about becoming.

And for me, walking both paths—Taoist and Stoic—has not diluted my practice but deepened it. Together they’ve become not just a philosophy but a way of life. A life no longer bound by dogma, but rooted in quiet strength, clarity of mind, and a deepening compassion for all things.