Laozi on Senses, Desire, and Simplicity
The five colors make people’s eyes blind; the five tones make people’s ears deaf; the five flavors make people’s mouths dull; galloping about in hunting fields makes people’s minds go mad; goods hard to come by make people’s conduct be hindered. Therefore the sage provides for the belly and not for the eyes; thus he discards that and takes this. - Laozi
Sensory Excess and Human Dulling
Laozi opens with a series of striking inversions: colors “blind,” tones “deafen,” and flavors “dull” the mouth. Rather than denying perception itself, he suggests that saturation can numb sensitivity, so that the more we chase stimulation, the less we truly feel. In this way, abundance becomes a kind of deprivation, because the senses lose their sharpness when they are constantly overfed. This framing prepares the reader for a broader critique: what appears enriching can quietly reduce our capacity for discernment. As the senses flatten, the inner life becomes reactive, leaning on ever-stronger impressions to feel anything at all.
From Stimulation to Mental Restlessness
After addressing the senses, Laozi shifts to the mind: “galloping about in hunting fields makes people’s minds go mad.” The hunting image evokes speed, competition, and pursuit—an external chase that produces internal turbulence. What begins as excitement turns into agitation, as attention becomes trained to seek targets rather than to rest. This move from sensory overload to mental frenzy forms a smooth progression: if the senses are constantly pulled outward, the mind follows, becoming scattered and impulsive. Laozi’s warning is less about hunting itself than about the habit of relentless seeking, which can erode calm judgment.
Scarce Goods and Distorted Conduct
Next, Laozi brings desire into the social realm: “goods hard to come by make people’s conduct be hindered.” Scarcity here is not just an economic condition; it is a psychological trigger. When certain objects are treated as rare, status-laden, or difficult to obtain, people begin to bend themselves around acquisition—compromising integrity, peace, or relationships. Consequently, the problem is not merely wanting things, but how desire reorganizes behavior. Laozi implies that an environment that glorifies the unattainable invites obsession, envy, and ethical shortcuts, making straightforward conduct harder to sustain.
Providing for the Belly, Not the Eyes
With “therefore,” Laozi offers the sage’s remedy: provide for the belly and not for the eyes. The “belly” stands for basic sufficiency—what supports life—while the “eyes” symbolize the endless appetite for appearances, novelty, and display. The sage does not wage war on pleasure; instead, he reorders priorities toward what is necessary and stabilizing. In daily terms, this means choosing nourishment over spectacle and substance over decoration. By shifting from outward craving to inward sufficiency, the sage reduces the leverage that stimulation and status hold over the heart.
Discarding That, Taking This: A Practical Ethic
Laozi concludes with a clear decision: “he discards that and takes this.” The contrast is not abstract; it is a guide for selection—what to embrace and what to let go. “That” is the cycle of overstimulation and craving that blinds, deafens, dulls, and deranges; “this” is the grounded life oriented around enough. As a final transition, the passage reads like an ethic of simplicity that protects perception and character. By limiting what inflames desire, the sage preserves clarity, making it easier to act without being dragged around by the next dazzling color, tone, flavor, or hard-to-get prize.