Being Taoist: The Foundation as Stuart Taught It

In Taoist teachings, Internal Alchemy refers to a process of transformation of your body, mind, and spirit that cannot be forced, accelerated, or manufactured through effort alone.

Yet for many people, the language of spiritual awakening assumes that striving and self-improvement are oriented toward getting somewhere else, rather than settling more fully into what is already here.

Classical Taoist traditions approached the cultivation of the body, mind, and spirit correctly. Rather than aiming at awakening directly, they emphasized creating the conditions in which transformation could occur naturally.

In the lineage taught by Stuart Alve Olson, this orientation was expressed through what he called Laying the Foundation for Internal Alchemy.

At first glance, the phrase can sound preparatory or even mundane—as though it refers to basic work that must be completed before something more advanced begins. From a goal-oriented mindset, foundation work may seem secondary to practices that promise movement, experiences, or visible progress.

In reality, this assumption reverses the entire logic of Taoist cultivation.

What follows explores why Laying the Foundation is not a preliminary phase, but the central work itself—and why learning how to be Taoist is inseparable from learning how to practice Taoism at all.

In Taoist teachings, many people hear the phrase Laying the Foundation (for Internal Alchemy or any Taoist practice, for that matter) and assume it refers to “preparatory work.” Something you do before the real practice begins. In actuality, that assumption is entirely backward.

Laying the Foundation is not a stepping stone—it is the work. It is the stage that determines whether anything real can ever happen in a person’s cultivation, spiritually, energetically, or psychologically.

At the Sanctuary of Tao, this understanding comes directly from the way Stuart Alve Olson taught and lived as a Taoist. Continuing and clarifying the legacy he began is central to our purpose. Everything we do is oriented toward preserving the depth and precision of his transmission through cultivating the Three Treasures of body (精, Jing/essence), breath (氣, Qi/vital energy), and mind (神, Shen/spirit).

It is also inseparable from another core transmission of this tradition, articulated so clearly by Stuart in his book Being Taoist. Because Laying the Foundation is not just about energy—it is about learning how to be.

Over four decades of teaching, Stuart returned to this again and again: that Taoist cultivation is not something you add on to an already overactive life. It is a re-orientation of how you train your body, calm your mind, and live in the world. Laying the Foundation and Being Taoist were never separate streams in his work. They were two expressions of the same underlying principle.

Classically, Laying the Foundation was described very simply: for men, restoring Jing (精, foundational vitality) to the kidneys; for women, settling Blood (血, embodied emotional substance) in the womb.

This may sound straightforward, but it is one of the hardest aspects of cultivation. Normally, most people avoid this work, rush it, or unconsciously bypass it because Laying the Foundation is not something you practice directly. It is a reversal of how to live your life.

To lay the foundation is to stop doing Taoism as something you perform, chase, or use—and to begin being Taoist as an orientation of body, mind, and spirit. This is why these two teachings are so deeply complementary. You cannot lay the foundation without learning how to be. And when the foundation is truly laid, being Taoist is no longer something you try to do—it is simply how you live.

When Jing or Blood begins to settle, energy stops depleting by default. The body no longer needs constant stimulation to regulate itself. Emotions don’t have to be reactive. The nervous system starts to recognize stillness as safe, and your mind rests in silence.

This is not mystical. But for many people, it is deeply unsettling.

Much of modern spiritual culture—and modern life in general—rewards constant participation: effort, productivity, ambition, stimulation, and visible movement. There is an unspoken pressure to do something, to keep up, to stay relevant, to participate in the collective momentum of the world.

When foundational work begins, that pressure weakens. This is where people often say the ego begins to dissolve, and it’s important to be clear on what that means. What dissolves is not your personality, values, or humanity. What dissolves is the need to conform—the ego structure shaped by social pressure, survival habits, and the belief that safety and worth come from effort and participation. It is the part of us trained to stay busy, stay agitated, and stay in motion so as not to fall behind.

As Jing or Blood settles, that internal pressure loses power.

Familiar patterns of stimulation lessen: mental agitation, emotional reactivity, compulsive sexuality, chronic striving, and even spiritual seeking itself. Life may feel quieter, less driven, steady, and even. Meaning has to come from being, not doing. Motivation reorganizes around what is real rather than what is expected.

This is why people resist this stage—not because it doesn’t work, but because it works too well.

Classical Taoist texts didn’t talk about nervous systems or trauma, but they assumed something many modern people do not yet have: the capacity to be still without fear. Being Taoist presumes being comfortable in stillness without immediately feeling the need to do something.

If stillness feels unsafe—because it threatens familiar ways of functioning or undermines one’s sense of control—the body will not settle. Energy continues to move as a survival strategy. Attention scatters. Sleep becomes disturbed. Sexual or emotional intensity escalates. From an alchemical perspective, this is not failure. It is the body saying, “It’s not home yet.”

True foundational work—and true Taoist training—is the gradual creation of that feeling of settling in stillness.

This is why Laying the Foundation is the basis for everything that follows: true internal alchemy, awakening of spirit, emotional stability, ethical clarity, and a real connection with the Tao. Without it, higher practices either don’t work or destabilize and flounder. With a solid foundation, many things resolve on their own—not because something new was added, but because energy and attention stopped draining into unnecessary effort, reactivity, and stimulation.

People who have stable foundations, who are at home in stillness, often look unremarkable to others. They are steadier, less reactive, less dramatic. Their attention is deeper. Their sense of urgency is lower. They are no longer organized around conformity or constant momentum.

They are, quite simply, being Taoist.

One of our commitments at the Sanctuary of Tao is to make this path accessible in the way Stuart taught it. Over many years, we developed programs, recorded talks, and extensive teaching materials with him, capturing the full breadth of his understanding from more than four decades of practice and instruction. We are actively organizing and deepening these streams of teaching so that students are not just reading about Stuart’s work, but genuinely learning from him through his words, voice, and guidance.

This is what the Sanctuary of Tao exists to support: a living transmission, rooted in Stuart’s teaching, oriented toward Laying the Foundation, and expressed through learning how to be Taoist in daily life.

Our work is not about chasing experiences or advancing through levels. It is about helping people become stable enough, settled enough, and present enough that real cultivation can occur—patiently, methodically, and correctly.

For many people, this is the most important work they will do.

If you are drawn to quieter depth rather than spectacle, to stability rather than intensity, and to becoming a True person rather than collecting techniques, the Sanctuary of Tao offers a place to study, practice, and return to what is fundamental to being human—because at its essence, being Taoist is learning how to be a good human being.

—Patrick