A Journey Through Time: 40 Years to Find Peace
Revisiting a little boy who drew a strange symbol on a computer.
My family has owned a computer for as long as I can remember. My great-uncle was an engineer who gifted my mom an Apple IIe. I remember the green and black graphics and inserting a 3.5-inch floppy disk to do anything. There was no mouse, so everything used the keyboard. Even 35 years later, I still remember the command that told the computer to run the game located on the floppy disk. I’ve never loved a computer more than that Apple IIe, but our next computer came close.
Purchased from Gateway, the computer company that used a cow as its mascot, I discovered a program called Microsoft Paint. My older brother, always the artist, took an instant interest. He drew detailed portraits, landscapes, and skulls. I, on the other hand, drew stick figures and wonky circles. Drawing was never easy for me, and digital drawing wasn’t any better.
During my summer days, I wanted to draw something interesting. So, I opened our encyclopedia and flipped to the end, where flags of different countries were listed. Some flags, like Mexico, were too difficult, but others were far easier. My state flag, Texas, was much easier, and Paint allowed you to drag and drop a star, so I didn’t have to create it with five uneven lines. After Texas, I drew the United States, NATO, China, Russia, and Colorado.
One day, bored and tired of playing outside, I again flipped through the encyclopedia. Instead of flipping to the end immediately, I allowed the pages to slowly leave my thumb, looking at each page quickly as it turned. Suddenly, I found a strange circular symbol with only two colors: black and white. The two colors seemed to be swirling into the center as if neither one could overtake the other. I knew that even despite my poor digital drawing skills, I could draw it on our computer. When my big brother came home, I asked, “What is this symbol?”
My brother replied, “Oh, that’s a yin-yang.”
“What is it for?” I asked.
“I’m not sure, but I think it means opposites or balance or something,”
I must have spent an hour or more attempting to make an S shape in the middle of the circle. Either the top or bottom of the S was never equal to the other. Or, my small circles never matched the overall curve, but I finally drew it perfectly. I loved this MS Paint drawing most of all. I wasn’t sure why or where the yin-yang came from or even what it meant, but I cherished it.
According to my mom, I’ve always enjoyed Winnie the Pooh. I grew up watching the old Disney movie and decorated my daughter’s nursery with images of the characters. One day, home from college, I put in the old VHS tape and watched the movie. It’s surprising how different a film feels after 20 years. When I returned to the dorm that next day, I told a friend I watched the cartoon. My friend asked, “Have you ever heard of a book named “The Tao of Pooh,” to which I replied simply, “No.”
“I think you would like it,” my friend said. The true identity of this particular friend has been lost to time, and I’m disappointed by that. Such a small suggestion had ramifications far beyond their intention.
I looked in the university library, but it was checked out. I also didn’t have money to buy the book since I was a poor college student without a job. So, I gave up and moved on with life. The book returned to my mind occasionally, and I promised I’d read it one day.
Years later, I explained my childhood love for Winnie the Pooh to my girlfriend and that there was a philosophy book about the character. She asked if I wanted it for my birthday and said she’d buy it. Unfortunately, she bought another Winnie the Pooh book about business and success. While I appreciated the attempt and tried to read as much as possible, I didn’t finish the first book and never started the second. Around this time, I Googled the yin-yang and discovered something called Taoism. “Tao, as in, the Tao of Pooh? Interesting connection,” I thought.
In what seemed like a blink of an eye, I woke up one day and found myself 37 years old, married, with three kids, two dogs, and possibly testicular cancer. Times were hard. I attended a local arts and jazz festival with my wife in an attempt to relax and not stress too much about the upcoming surgery.
At the festival, I found a local vendor selling handmade bone necklaces. After digging through rungs of strange symbols, I found a necklace with a yin-yang, and I remembered using MS Paint all those years ago. I also remembered almost checking out The Tao of Pooh and the books I received from my girlfriend-turned-wife. So, I bought the necklace and wore it every day. I loved its black background and bone-white etchings. It felt light to wear yet powerful to hold.
Several months later, I discovered it wasn’t cancer but a rare mass of non-cancerous cells. Since it was terribly painful, surgery was still required to remove one of my testicles. During recovery, and with my new necklace, I researched yin-yang in depth for the first time. I discovered yin-yang has a connection to several ancient civilizations, but most of my sources related it to Taoism, a religion begun in China by a probably fictional man named Laozi. Laozi, when translated, means “old master.” I know some people believe there are no coincidences, but that is a pretty big coincidence.
Continuing, I found an entire sect of Westerners who follow Taoist teachings and philosophies. Discords, websites, YouTubers, and online classes were also available for me to consume as much or as little as I wanted. This world was much larger than I realized, sitting at my computer, struggling to draw simple designs as a child.
With every video I watched or article I read, I became more emotionally involved. Like Alice, I jumped down the rabbit hole, not realizing the transformation I was undergoing. I consumed ancient texts like Tao Te Ching and Zhuangzi, the only non-fiction books I’d ever read. These books were deep with metaphors, meanings, and mystery, but unlike regular novels, I had to discover my own answers, and they were written that way intentionally! I purchased and read The Tao of Pooh after nearly 20 years of waiting.
From listening to Alan Watts's speeches to joining online communities, I took classes from Taoist student George Thompson, who was a member of The Taoist Wellness Academy under Master Gu. I felt my life had been enriched again, like when I married and had children. New opportunities presented themselves, and new online friendships began. Life slowed down, and a calm routine set in. Despite some in the community telling me not to, I began to call myself a Taoist instead of an atheist, and I memorized the date: April 27, 2019. However, as I learned, the yin-yang is not stationary— the chaos of yang always follows the peace of yin.
When I was 40, I developed tinnitus (chronic, loud ear ringing in both ears). If you’re unaware, the onset of tinnitus causes staggering anxiety attacks. I now know why humans torture each other with continuous loud noises. Lack of sleep and medications wreaked havoc on my previously quiet meditation practice and peace of mind. What was once a beautiful quiet had become a high-pitched squeal 24 hours a day, seven days a week, with no breaks…ever!
It took nearly six weeks to learn to sleep again. Still recovering, I sank into a severe depression, and the damage took its toll. I left online communities, stopped learning, sat alone in a house with a work-from-home job, and wondered if I would ever find peace again. Two years went by.
One day, seemingly out of nowhere, I awoke at 5 AM one Saturday morning and felt a strange desire to write everything inside my mind. It wasn’t the first time I wrote online, but the first time I wrote so publicly. First, I wrote about my past with Christianity and then about yin-yang and my family. After five articles, a woman named
reached out through Mastodon. She wrote on a platform called Medium.I reread Tao Te Ching with renewed vigor for the first time in months. I asked George questions and joined the online communities I left earlier. I felt rejuvenated, as if a part of me was awakening from a deep winter nap. My thoughts returned to the Tao, and I recreated my daily practice. Gone were the days of sitting in a silent room. Now, I mediated through action—washing the dishes, cleaning a room, and, most importantly, writing.
On Medium, I looked for a Taoist publications and writers. I found one writer who knew Master Gu but wasn’t interested in helping build a community. I wanted to share my story, I hoped I could find a different path forward if I shared what I learned. I knew my journey wasn’t over; it was just beginning. Sharing my thoughts and feelings wouldn’t be a miracle cure for anything, and I didn’t claim to be a master of any particular idea. Still, I knew if one person found my writings helpful, then months of sitting at my computer, typing my stories, and recording videos and podcasts would be worth it. So, I created The Taoist Online, a Medium publication, and watched it become a major force for spiritual and philosophical writing.
After all, if the yin-yang, and thereby the Tao, could speak to me through drawing the yin-yang on MS Paint, and if it could guide and show itself to me, then perhaps it could do the same for others. They just need a place to find it.
Reflecting on this journey, I realize how a simple childhood curiosity—sparked by a clunky Apple IIe, a Gateway computer, and a swirling black-and-white symbol—unfolded into a lifelong exploration of meaning and balance. What began as a struggle to draw a perfect yin-yang in MS Paint evolved into a profound connection to Taoism, guiding me through moments of joy and uncertainty.
The tools have changed—from floppy disks to online communities—but the journey remains. A search for understanding. It’s humbling to think how my boredom could plant the seed for a philosophy that would carry me through adulthood, from decorating my daughter’s nursery with Winnie the Pooh to wearing a bone-carved yin-yang necklace during life’s most complex trials.
The Tao taught me life is a dance of opposites—chaos and calm, struggle and peace—and that wisdom lies in embracing both, yet none over the other. If my words, born from decades of trial and error, can light a spark for even one person the way that encyclopedia page did for me, then every late-night writing session and every hardship will be worth it. The Tao isn’t hidden in ancient texts or distant masters.
It’s in every day. It’s in washing dishes, writing, and living. Maybe someone out there, flipping through their version of an encyclopedia or scrolling online, will stumble across this and find their own path to balance. That’s my quiet hope 35 years after a kid with a Gateway computer first traced an S curve into a circle.
Do you want to encourage more learners to follow the Tao?
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Those who helped encourage:
Tracy Chrest
Debra Groves Harman
Dana DuBois
jwa1313🏴☠️
You're a writer who holds my interest. When I start reading your words, you pull me right along, and you have done it again this time. Then, I appeared, ha ha! You are such a star. Thanks for 'lifting' me this last few weeks. Memorial service for my friend is on Saturday. I am hoping after we get through that, I'll feel a sense of closure. It's been such an odd year. The horrible f'ing election and the current politics, a lack of money, Medium drying up, three deaths in 6 weeks. Just----a lot. But you! thank you, thank you. Thank. You.