Container Theory: Behavior Is a Liquid
Reproduction of A Thousand of Rivers and Mountains, Wang Zimeng (1113)
In Taoism, mountains embody the eternal, unchanging, and stable yang force, reaching upward toward the heavens. Rivers represent the flowing, changing, and adaptable yin force, moving horizontally across the earth.
Self-improvement feels like fighting a forever war against ourselves. We summon willpower, forge discipline, and stand guard against distractions, all in the name of personal growth. We know only the language of force. This conflict seems fundamental to human nature—the price we must pay for change.
But what if we're thinking about change all wrong? What if, instead of resisting our nature, we could flow with it?
Like Water, Not Will
This persistent emphasis on discipline and willpower is a reason—perhaps the reason—why behavior change can be so difficult. Like dominoes trying to fall sideways, we struggle against the natural, inevitable flow of energy.
Instead, be like water. Think of your behavior as a liquid. Liquids have no inherent shape. They take the shape of whatever container you place them in.
In Taoist thought, change is an emergent property of upstream conditions, like a river shaped by its currents. We embrace wu-wei—effortless action—by arranging conditions skillfully instead of fighting the current with willpower. Our behavior, like water, naturally follows the path of least resistance.
What are conditions? Anything that influences you. Conditions are the container that gives your behaviors their shape.
I used to believe that elite performance required exceptional willpower. But years of working closely with top performers shattered this myth. The compounding advantage isn’t discipline—it's the intentional cultivation of conditions that support excellence.
We can’t change the present but we can reshape our container to influence future behavior. This is the key to making lasting change.
Container Discovery
All change is seeded with awareness: observing what conditions correlate with which outcomes.
Imagine you’re creating blueprints for your container. You refine the design by observing where your container limits you and where you can expand.
After a good outcome, I reflect on the supportive conditions. This morning, I had a great workout. What else was happening? Last night, I laid out workout clothes and was accountable for meeting a friend at the gym who happens to take his workouts very seriously. It is probably a good idea to recreate those conditions.
The same principle applies to not-so-good outcomes. One night, while traveling, I raided the candy in the hotel minibar. Upon reflection, I didn’t eat a full dinner, and the candy was left dangerously close to the bed. I’ll experiment with hiding the snacks in the closet for my next stay.
These experiments are how we transform setbacks into lessons. Whenever I suffer a defeat, I remind myself: it’s not that you failed; it’s that you failed to create the conditions necessary to succeed. What could improve your odds for next time?
Do we have free will? We certainly can’t take it for granted. I suspect my “ability to make unimpeded choices” is limited, but I can’t be sure. It’s above my pay grade.
When the truth is inaccessible, I adopt the most useful belief. Sometimes, it’s useful to believe I have free will, and sometimes it isn’t.
The shortcut? When shaping your container, act as if you have free will. When you’re taking action, assume you don’t.
Container Reshaping
Now, we begin to master our container—understanding how conditions shape behavior and skillfully engineering those conditions. By reshaping my container today, I make my desired behavior more likely to happen in the future.
This leads to a simple rule for changing behavior:
Make what I want to do more, easier to do. Make what I want to do less, harder to do.
Theory in Action:
I keep my journal on my laptop at night, so I must pick it up in the morning. Once I have the journal in my hands, it’s easier to start writing.
I reduced phone use by making the bedroom a no-phone-zone, leaving my phone to charge on a hallway table whenever I entered the bedroom.
I extend my exhales in preparation for high-pressure moments, promoting relaxation and embodied presence.
Most investors overtrade. I added process friction by completing a pre-trade checklist and requiring trade approvals from my advisor.
We tend to adopt the values of those around us. My major motivation for returning to NYC was increasing my default ambition and velocity.
New behaviors are fragile because the containers are delicate—easily disturbed by suboptimal conditions. Make your path to completion as simple and unobstructed as possible.
You started running in the morning, but today, your running shorts are nowhere to be found. Maybe it’s laundry day. Will you still go for a run? Maybe, maybe not. The friction of finding your shorts alters your morning and ripples through your entire day. Trivial inconveniences compound, and soon, your container will feel downright claustrophobic.
Instead of pursuing goals directly as a first-order cause, I encourage goals to happen as a second-order infinite game. The results appear magical, but the process resembles gardening more than wizardry. A gardener doesn’t force the plant to grow—they cultivate ideal growing conditions and allow nature to take its course.
I continually reshape my container as my container continually reshapes me.
Container Transcendence
We eventually encounter a paradox. The better we become at engineering ideal conditions, the less we seem to need them. This reveals the ultimate container: identity itself.
What we believe is possible shapes what becomes possible. Like all advanced teachings, this sounds deceptively simple. But we must first learn to navigate complexity before truly appreciating and working with profound simplicity.
Develop an antifragile identity by consistently executing despite adverse conditions. Repetition is not redundancy. Only after we shape our conditions with great care can we discover that true mastery lies in releasing our grip on those conditions.
A fully realized runner can run in all sorts of places, whenever and wherever—rain or shine, track, treadmill, hamster wheel—immune to time, place, or mood.
Dzogchen—the Great Perfection—is the pinnacle of yogic disciplines. While no higher teaching exists, Dzogchen transcends the very notions of teaching. Dzogchen masters paradoxically emphasize the futility of achievement while responding with mastery, regardless of conditions. The container disappears. Only the flow remains.
At this inflection point, behavior transcends its container. You enter flow states on a crowded subway, experience inner peace in a mosh pit, or sketch your magnum opus on a cocktail napkin. Transcendent outcomes emerge effortlessly, regardless of conditions.
Behavior becomes a pure expression of Self. What was once an essential condition for success has faded into the background and become irrelevant. You just do it.
Postscript: Years Later
“Before one studies Zen, mountains are mountains and waters are waters; after a first glimpse into the truth of Zen, mountains are no longer mountains and waters are no longer waters; after enlightenment, mountains are once again mountains and waters once again waters.”
― Dōgen
First, we awaken to our containers and see their impact everywhere—on our health, our relationships, and every aspect of our performance. We learn how to reshape these containers, believing mastery lies in control. The mountains are merely mountains.
But then we recognize the constructed nature of our conditions. The container is a metaphor. Like a finger pointing to the moon, conditions lightly gesture at something more fundamental. The athlete who needs perfect conditions to train isn't really an athlete, and the founder who needs certainty and security to launch isn’t really a founder. The mountain dissolves into emptiness.
Finally, we come full circle. We engage fully with our conditions and cultivate them precisely, knowing they can never define us. The mountains are mountains again, but now we understand their true nature.
The secret? Make nothing a Big Deal. Acquaint yourself with all flavors of failure and success. Welcome all conditions without attachment.
What emerges is who you've always been, no longer contained by who you thought you were.
Thanks for reading.
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