Chapter 3: Flow Like a Function
"Life is a series of natural and spontaneous changes. Don’t resist them; that only creates sorrow. Let reality be reality. Let things flow naturally forward in whatever way they like."
— Lao Tzu
We have spoken of uncertainty as a companion and of tools as temporary guides rather than permanent identities. Now we explore something even more subtle, yet profoundly powerful: the quiet state of flow, when coding becomes as natural as breathing.
To code well is not merely a technical feat. It is an act of aligning with something greater, a gentle current that we cannot force but can join willingly. Like water flowing downhill, a well-written function neither resists nor rushes. It simply flows.
Functions as Reflections of Thought
When a function is clear, it mirrors clarity of thought. Consider a well-composed pure function, such as one converting timestamps into readable dates. It handles its inputs predictably, returning outputs without side effects. Simple, clear, and easily understood. When you struggle to structure your code, often it is your mind that needs tending first.
Imagine a developer late one evening, tangled in complexity. Hours pass. Frustration builds. Finally, exhausted, they step away, perhaps to breathe, perhaps just to stretch. Upon returning, calm and refreshed, clarity arrives without struggle, the tangled logic gently untangles itself, and a simple function emerges effortlessly.
We often mistake coding as purely analytical, neglecting that clarity and insight begin in a calm and receptive mind. Just as a streaming API flows data downstream, smoothly delivering events unless disrupted by backpressure, our coding clarity similarly requires freedom from mental turbulence. Our clearest code emerges not from pressure, but from a gentle readiness to receive what wants to be written.
"The mind is like water. When it's turbulent, it's difficult to see. When it's calm, everything becomes clear."
— Prasad Mahes
Flow vs. Force
In our hurry, we mistake activity for productivity, movement for progress. We code quickly, under pressure, driven by deadlines and demands. We force solutions into existence, but forced code, like rushed work, rarely endures.
Consider two developers facing the same tight deadline. One races, fueled by caffeine and anxiety, churning out code that works... for now. The other pauses, breathes, and writes slowly. Their code appears deceptively simple, yet deeply robust. Months later, the rushed solution has accumulated technical debt, becoming brittle and expensive to maintain. Meanwhile, the calmly written code still thrives, adapting gracefully to changes.
The Taoists call this effortless productivity wu wei, meaning 'non-doing.' Wu wei doesn't mean inactivity; rather, it describes action so natural and aligned with reality that it requires no force, no strain. Water naturally flows downhill, finding the easiest path without struggle. Coding in alignment with wu wei similarly involves finding this path of least resistance, allowing solutions to emerge naturally and effortlessly.
To flow, we must learn to pause, to resist urgency without resisting progress.
"Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience."
— Ralph Waldo Emerson
The Effortless Elegance of Simplicity
Simplicity is not merely about fewer lines or cleaner syntax. It's about aligning your work with purpose, each piece of code quietly fulfilling its role, nothing more, nothing less.
Once a team initially scoffed at the simplicity their senior developer insisted upon. "Too basic," they argued, preferring their sophisticated abstractions. But when a major pivot was suddenly required, it was simplicity that allowed rapid adaptation. The complex code broke under the weight of unforeseen changes, while the minimalist approach flowed effortlessly into the new direction.
Simplicity is strength. Complexity is often fear in disguise.
"Simplicity, the art of maximizing the amount of work not done, is essential."
— Agile Manifesto
Code as Meditation
Coding is not just logical; it can also be deeply meditative. Like meditation, it involves intense focus, gentle persistence, and the quiet joy of insight emerging from stillness.
Consider a developer who found their most difficult bugs solved not at their desk but during quiet walks or moments of deliberate pause. Each moment spent away from code allowed solutions to gently surface, not through force, but through quiet receptivity.
When you see coding as meditation, each bug and each challenge becomes an invitation into deeper understanding, not frustration.
"You should sit in meditation for twenty minutes every day. Unless you’re too busy. Then you should sit for an hour."
— Zen proverb
Flow is Not Always Forward
Flow, like a river, does not always move straightforwardly. It curves, it bends, it patiently carves new paths around obstacles. Similarly, good coding is rarely linear. Refactoring is not regression, it’s the natural curve of the river finding its way.
Imagine the river carving through mountains over millennia. It does not break the rock by force, but wears it away patiently. Likewise, great code is shaped over time. It gradually improves through refactoring and quiet iteration. Like a river patiently carving its path, each commit slowly erodes complexity, revealing smoother, clearer layers beneath. Cleaning up a legacy service becomes a subtle, steady practice. One well-tested commit at a time. The impatient developer sees refactoring as failure, but the wise developer sees it as an essential part of progress.
"Progress is not achieved by luck or accident, but by working on yourself daily."
— Epictetus
Surrender to the Current
Finally, true flow requires humility and surrender, trusting the current rather than fighting it. Developers often resist input, clinging stubbornly to their own ideas, viewing feedback as threats rather than guidance.
But consider the developer who learns to trust their team. Their ego quiets, and suddenly, their code improves dramatically. Collaboration becomes natural, effortless, as if the entire team moves as one organism. They realize flow isn’t just personal; it is collective.
This surrender is not defeat. It is alignment with the natural rhythms of teamwork and trust.
"Enlightenment is ego's ultimate disappointment."
— Chögyam Trungpa
A function doesn't struggle to return its output. It simply receives inputs, transforms them effortlessly, and returns a result. When you're coding at your best, your mind behaves exactly the same way—there’s no struggle, no forcing. There's just clarity, precision, and smooth transformation from thought into code.
But what if we take it one step further?
What if the function isn't really creating its output, but rather tapping into something already there, waiting to flow through it? Perhaps the ideas you channel during coding aren't yours, strictly speaking. Perhaps they're already floating in some unseen dimension of possibility, patiently waiting for you to become receptive enough—quiet enough—to perceive them.
I've noticed something remarkable as I've been writing this very book. Most of the words, insights, and connections didn't feel forced, didn't feel consciously constructed. Instead, they arrived, fully formed, almost waiting patiently for me to notice them.
It's as if I'm not really writing, so much as receiving.
If you've ever experienced flow state, you know exactly what I mean. Your ego fades, your sense of self disappears, and you become the activity. You're not coding; coding is happening. You're not creating; creation is occurring through you.
Maybe that's what Taoist wisdom has pointed toward all along: true mastery emerges when you stop trying to master anything, and simply allow it to move through you. And sometimes, what blocks the flow most is the part of us trying hardest to be brilliant. What would your code look like if, just for today, you let go of the need to be impressive and simply allowed the brilliance to flow through you?
"Rivers know this: there is no hurry. We shall get there some day."
— A.A. Milne