Here is a parable from the Chuang Tzu – one of Taoism's foundational writings – translated by Victor Mair, 1997: Wandering On the Way) 3.2. Pp. 26-27.
“A cook was cutting up an ox for Lord Wehui.
Wherever
His hand touched,
His shoulder leaned.
His foot stepped,
His knee nudged,
the flesh would fall away with a swishing sound. Each slice of the cleaver was right in tune, zip zap! He danced in rhythm to “The Mulberry Grove,” moved in concert with the strains of “The Managing Chief.”
“Ah, wonderful!” said Lord Wehui, “that skill can attain such heights!”
The cook put down his cleaver and responded, “What your servant loes is the Way, which goes beyond mere skill. When I first began to cut oxen, what I saw was nothing but whole oxen. After three years, I no longer saw whole oxen. Today, I meet the ox with my spirit rather than looking at it with my eyes. My sense organs stop functioning and my spirit moves as it please. In accord with the natural grain, I slice at the great crevices, lead the blade through the great cavities. Following its inherent structure, I never encounter the slightest obstacle even where the veins and arteries come together or where the ligaments and tendons join, much less from obvious big bones. A good cook changes his cleaver once a year because he chops. An ordinary cook changes his cleaver once a month because he hacks Now I’ve been using my cleaver for nineteen years and have cut up thousands of oxen with it, but the blade is still as fresh as though it had just come from the grindstone Between the joints there are spaces, but the edge of the blade has no thickness, Since I am inserting something without any thickness into an empty space, there will certainly be lots of room for the blade to play around in, That’s why the blade is still as fresh as though it had just come from the grindstone, Nonetheless, whenever I come to a complicated spot and see that it will be difficult to handle, I cautiously restrain myself, focus my vision, and slow my motion, With an imperceptible movement of the cleaver, plop! and the flesh is already separated, like a clump of earth collapsing to the ground, I stand there holding the cleaver in my hand, look all around me with complacent satisfaction, then I wipe off the cleaver and store it away,”
“Wonderful!” said Lord Wenhui. “From hearing the words of the cook, I have learned how to nourish life.””
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