Never, has the living organism of Family been more under siege; more dispensable or irrelevant, as though its extinction were part of a final solution in some futuristic, grand scheme unfolding like the Second Coming. We are not bad people. Having been poisoned at the wishing well of desire, we are ships without a sail – meandering aimlessly…and thirsty. Fundamental matters of conduct and conscience have long been exported to the realms of church and family, but both have withered beneath the weight – not because they are unworthy but rather because they have been weathered by neglect. The church has its saviors and advocates; the family has neither. But there is a window. Taoism is not a religion; it does not parade a deity, it does not cleave us into chosen groups and nobody is going to hell for dismissing it all together. Neither is The Tao of Family a novel, it is a tool; a method that requires your unique fingerprint to be understood and useful. It is not preachy – there are not rights and wrongs, but rather decisions to be made and courses to be charted, each with a consequence. Each day, we encounter quandaries that baffle us and entrap us within webs of confusion and stress – no shame here, we are only human and function within the boundaries of knowledge and limited experience. The Tao of Family expands these boundaries but needs your individual signature to do so – your dilemma; the circumstance that swirls unresolved within the privacy of your own mind. You provide the raft; The Tao of Family supplies the winds but be mindful of the shoals. Perhaps disappointing is that the book does not supply answers, only directions and methods which leave you adrift, but this time with a compass and a torch. Within the hold of this ship is precious cargo, sufficient for the voyage but in dire need of a captain. Toss the coins (theyre only coins), build your hexagram (its just a vessel), and steer your course (its only life). Bon voyage!