Embracing Tai Su: Chaos to Creation

What is “Tai Su”? Imagine if Tai Chi were the smooth, refined art of cosmic balance—now picture something even more ancient and unpolished, a sort of proto-matter that predates even Tai Chi’s elegant moves. That’s Tai Su.

In Taoist thought, Tai Su represents the universe’s raw material at a stage so early it almost has a baby name. Before there was any orderly “heaven and earth” to speak of, the cosmos was busy experimenting with its own version of a cosmic sketch: a formless, primordial substance waiting to get its act together. According to the ancient roadmap of creation—dividing the pre-heaven process into what are sometimes called the “five Tais”—Tai Su occupies the fourth stage. It’s the moment right before the universe makes the dramatic leap from a nebulous, limitless void (what the ancients referred to as “wuxi”) into the tangible, structured cosmos.

The classic text Liezi puts it this way: Tai Su is that in-between phase where matter, having been set in motion by the earlier transformative energy of “Tai Shi” (the Great Beginning), starts to take on a hint of form. It gains a shape and a bit of substance—think of it as the cosmic dough that’s been mixed up nicely but hasn’t yet risen into a full-fledged cake. In other words, Tai Su is matter at its embryonic stage: it’s no random soup anymore, but it’s also not yet the solid, complete substance we’re familiar with in the everyday world.

And interestingly, the concept of balance and harmony that Tai Su embodies can also be seen in things like yin yang jewelry. Just as Tai Su represents a kind of initial, potential balance in the universe, yin yang jewelry symbolizes the idea of two opposing yet complementary forces in a state of equilibrium, much like the early cosmic state that Tai Su represents.

So, if you ever ponder the origins of the universe and wonder what the first building blocks were up to before all the glitz and glamour of stars and galaxies came into being, just remember: Tai Su was that raw, unformed potential, patiently waiting in the cosmic wings for its big debut.

From Chaos to Form: The Tale of Tai Su Within

Ethan always believed that life, like the New York skyline at dusk, was a series of bright, well-defined moments. But on one especially restless evening, after the end of a love that had defined his world, he found himself wandering the neon-lit streets in search of answers. It was during these solitary hours that fate led him into a dusty, out-of-the-way bookstore tucked between a coffee shop and a music venue—a hidden gem where ancient wisdom whispered from every shelf.

There, among the forgotten relics of the past, Ethan’s eyes fell upon a weathered book with an intriguing title: The Way of Tai Su. Its faded cover hinted at a cosmic secret, something that resonated with the raw, unformed potential he felt churning within him. He recalled the phrase, “Tai Su is the primordial matter, even more basic than Tai Chi,” and a shiver of recognition ran through him. Could this mysterious concept mirror the chaos inside his own heart?

As he flipped through the pages, the ancient text revealed a story of the cosmos that paralleled his inner journey. In Taoist thought, Tai Su was not a finished masterpiece, but rather the universe’s formless, unshaped energy—like a pot of ingredients waiting for the right spark to become a nourishing meal. It was the fourth stage in the cosmic evolution, just before the universe transformed from an undefined void into the tangible reality of stars, galaxies, and life itself.

Ethan found himself entranced. He imagined his own life as a mirror of this celestial process: a raw, unformed energy—emotionally charged and full of potential—poised on the brink of transformation. Memories of his lost love and the aching void of his heart swirled within him, much like the early chaotic state of the universe described in the ancient text. He began to wonder if his pain, like the mysterious Tai Su, was merely the necessary precursor to something new and magnificent.

Night after night, Ethan returned to the bookstore and immersed himself in the philosophy of Tai Su. In quiet moments alone in his cramped apartment, the concept seeped into him, slowly building a quiet storm of emotions. At first, his feelings were raw and tumultuous—akin to a turbulent sea without a shore. He felt exposed, vulnerable, and overwhelmed by the chaos of his own inner universe.

Then, one cold, rain-soaked evening, as the city’s lights blurred into a watercolor of motion outside his window, Ethan experienced an unexpected epiphany. Sitting on his fire escape, he stared up at the stars, their ancient light a silent reminder of a time when the universe itself was just a swirling mass of possibilities—a moment of Tai Su before form emerged. In that suspended moment, something shifted inside him. The pain and uncertainty he’d been battling transformed into a kind of creative energy. The chaotic ingredients of his life—loss, hope, longing—began to blend into a new, emerging shape.

In the quiet crescendo of that night, Ethan realized that just as the cosmos evolved from an undefined, primordial state into a beautifully complex tapestry of life, so too could he redefine himself. His emotional turmoil was not the end, but the raw material for a rebirth. With a newfound determination, he began to paint—a passion he’d long neglected—and his canvases soon exploded with vivid colors and bold strokes. Each brushstroke was a celebration of his personal Tai Su, capturing the fragile transition from raw, unshaped emotion into a compelling work of art.

The transformation was neither sudden nor easy. There were moments when the storm of his emotions threatened to overwhelm him again. But with every setback, he remembered that ancient truth: creation is a process. The universe did not spring forth fully formed; it evolved, gradually and beautifully, from chaos to form. And so, every time he felt the tremors of despair, he would close his eyes, recall the night under the stars, and remember that he was in the very midst of his own cosmic evolution.

By the time spring arrived in the city, Ethan’s art was not just a display of color on canvas—it was a living, breathing testament to the resilience of the human spirit. People began to see in his work a familiar narrative of struggle and rebirth. They recognized that, deep within each of us, lies a reservoir of raw potential waiting to be shaped into something extraordinary.

In embracing the essence of Tai Su, Ethan discovered that every ending is just the beginning of a new story. The chaotic, unformed energy of our lives is not a void to be feared but a fertile ground from which beauty and meaning can emerge. And in that realization, he found a sense of peace—and an enduring connection to the ancient rhythms of the cosmos, where every heart, like every star, begins as a spark of possibility waiting to be ignited.