Below are sections of "Tranquility, Tumult, and Transformation" that I am rewriting. Who knows when this project might be completed.
Index (only one item is currently listed, for others please scroll down)
Tao Jiao: Taoist religion
The near exclusion of Religious Taoism from this work has a
pragmatic motive; it is not a value judgment. I am not contrasting
Lao-Zhuang and Religious Taoism in the manner of some philosophers
have who want "to purify Taoism from superstition."
My motive is accessibility, and the suggestion is simply that
there is a powerful paradigm that can be found within the Lao-Zhuang
texts; and that it can be readily used as a sufficient basis for
exploring and utilizing a vast realm of wisdom. This investigation
can proceed with or without a specialist teacher and esoteric
training. Furthermore, the texts provide a broad doorway whose
entrance does not require the suspension of any beliefs or disbeliefs.
These factors are handy for today's explorer who may not be able
to find a reliable teacher, may want to investigate matters autonomously,
or may have a difficult time believing in the existence of certain
unnatural forces.
From the texts, you can begin the journey without the guidance
of a specialist and when you do get further down the road, you
can interpret the uncanny phenomenon you meet in any way you choose,
i.e. you may believe these phenomena are due to extremely adept
sub-conscious power, or paranormal psychological ability, or the
influence of ghosts and other extra-natural forces. Shen and Gui
are powerful forces whether understood as spirits and ghosts or
simply as mental artifacts. They are extra-conscious, if not extra-natural
powers. (Some of one's experiences will turn out to be unusual
to a degree that it may prove difficult not to attribute them
to the work of ghostly intercessors.)
When I cite the advantage of Lao-Zhuang thought as an approach
that is empirical and free of the demand for one's accepting any
prerequisite dogma, I need to balance that statement with another.
One must not minimize the profound spiritual richness, creativity
and potency that resides in the Taoist religion. The work of the
Taoist religious practitioners utilizes powerful images and techniques
that very effectively evoke the remarkable ability (De) residing
beyond the conscious mind. For those of us working outside Religious
Taoism, it is necessary to seek an alternative mind-transforming
practice that will enable the exploration of the extra-conscious
realm. Intellectual insight is insufficient. Qi Gong and Tai Ji
are two arts that can be practiced within or apart from Religious
Taoism. Further afield are other useful schools. Reiki is an offshoot
of Buddhism; it can provide a wide, if sometimes unruly, avenue
into the subconscious. Yoga is another highly rewarding approach.
Self-taught meditation is a convenient and quite effective entrance
to these off-conscious fields.
Although one can effectively work outside of the Taoist church,
it is fitting for this writer "not to bite the hand that
feeds." If it were not for the libraries of Taoist and Zen
Buddhist institutions, and the work of their priests and scholars,
it is quite unlikely that we would have the writings of the Lao-Zhuang
Taoists. As Huston Smith once said in a radio interview commenting
on organized religion, "Without these institutions spirituality
would have no traction in history."
There is one modern scholar, Kristofer Schippper, who takes the
Taoist Church view of these matters. This Frenchman who became
a Taoist priest, believes there can be no separation between "philosophical"
and "religious" Taoism. His insightful and enjoyable
book is "The Taoist Body".
Tian Di: Heaven and Earth
What is Tian? It is usually translated as "heaven",
but it is not a realm of a unified transcendent entity, such as
that implied in western definitions of "God."HD212 To
avoid confusing it with the western concept of "heaven",
it is might be more useful to translate Tian as simply the "non-earthly".
It is one half of the Chinese complementary system of natural
dynamics called "Tian" and "Di"(earth). Earth
is the place where the ordinary beings of the world live and interact,
these are the "ten thousand things" (Wan wu).
Tian is a realm where the extra-ordinary forces operate. It is
the abode of a concatenation of non-earthly entities: ancestors,
ghosts, and other spirits. And Tian is also the place from which
certain natural forces arise, to then interact with and regulate
earthly forces. For example, a person can get in touch with "the
Tian in himself." In Lao-Zhuang Taoism heaven is not an agent
that rewards the good and punishes the bad, but rather a dynamic
that impartially sustains all things.3
You xin: Being actual, demonstrable
The foundation of most Eastern and Western spiritual practices
is a belief in the basic doctrinal truths that are held by the
follower. Taoism is rooted only in Jing, the practice of stilling
the surface of the mind. One is not told, "If you don't have
faith (believe this teaching), it will not work for you."
One is rather advised to calm the mind and observe (Guan) what
happens.
The proof of Taoism cannot be provided from external sources;
its validation hangs on one's own experience. Belief in Taoism
is empirically based. Faith comes only when the practitioner has
repeatedly seen the results that occur when the psyche is fully
integrated. The Tao is "something that can be tested (You
xin)".LLZ21
I view Lao-Zhuang as the practice of an "empirically based
faith", although that phrase at first seems to be self-contradictory.
It is empirical in that after protracted practice, one directly
experiences its remarkable effectiveness working throughout one's
daily life. It is faith, in that one learns to trust the Tao and
move (sometimes leap) into situations where one would increasingly
appear to be vulnerable to unknowable forces and unpredictable
consequences. One has found a path that one can put great confidence
in, even as wider and deeper chasms open at one's feet.
Shi: Authority/teacher
"If as your authority (Shi) you
follow a mind that you have made complete,
who should be without authority?"
Zhuang Zi, Chapter Two
Most spiritual institutions hold to a historical tradition
that traces the institution's authority back to its originators.
The Lao-Zhuang writers deny that the aptitude for following Tao
can be transmitted (bu ke chuan: "it cannot be transmitted"ZZ13)
down a lineage. Zhuang Zi uses the tale of a wheelwright who says
that he cannot teach an art that resides in his hands and heart,
even to his own son. When Zhuang Zi was challenged to give an
authoritative source for his statements, he mocked the validity
of the skeptic's concern by citing a fictional lineage made up
of allegorical names.GZZ67
Lao-Zhuang Taoism is inherently nonsectarian. Indeed, Lao Zi and
Zhuang Zi did not refer to themselves as "Taoists."
The Tao is not easily institutionalized because its authority
resides universally. Rather than following the convention of a
spiritual lineage handed down from one master to the next, the
Lao-Zhuang Taoists espouse autogenous enlightenment. Anyone who
listens carefully to reality, by clearing and stilling mind, speaks
of Tao with authority. Ming (inner vision) arises only from the
individual's internal process of Jing (stillness). (see Lao Zi,
Chapter 16)
The Taoist "... needs no precedents to hold himself up."GZZ160
The truth is realized within. The quest is for intuitive, not
pedagogical knowledge. The sage seeks a visceral experience of
her world and not a superficial view, she "...goes by the
belly not by the eye."LZ12
One need not search for a teacher on the white slopes of a distant
mountain, nor obtain initiation into an esoteric community. Tao
is an always available school: "Without going out the door
one can grasp everything under heaven. Without peeping out the
window, one can perceive the way of heaven. For going out still
farther, one will understand that much less."LZ47
Zheng: Accuracy/Completeness
"Of those who received their destiny
from the Earth, only the pine
and the cedar have perfected (Zheng) their course-they remain
green both summer and winter."
Zhuang Zi, Chapter Five
The lower section of the character Zheng represents a foot walking.
The upper part (the single horizontal line at the top) represents
the limit of this progression.WCC:P266 This picture suggests a
combined meaning of correct and complete. It is the exact filling
of potential. Depicting an expansive, not a limiting sense, it
invites rather than prohibits. The emphasis is on the pragmatic
not the ethical; the focus is on efficiency, gain, and completion,
not moral evaluation.
The Taoist becomes still and clear in order to elicit from the
mind an effective spontaneous response to her surrounding world.
This response will arise in a mind fully integrated with internal
and external realities; it gives mind uncanny accuracy and effectiveness.
Accuracy, Zheng, is the mark of ability (De); not righteousness.
Perhaps the best understanding of Zheng is given by Zhuang Zi
when he says that only evergreen trees are able to fully achieve
their destiny. This is because they are Zheng: remaining green
both summer and winter, these trees completely realize their natural
potential.
Gen: The root
"Know the male
but abide in the female."
Lao Zi, Chapter Twenty-eight
The vitality of the feminine in Lao Zi is explicit. This emphasis
on the feminine may have evolved from the direct influence of
unknown individual women, who were probably quite influential
in the oldest spiritual traditions, but left out of its history
by male writers: the ancient book Kuo Yu speaks of the spirit
summoning of "shamans and shamanesses"GAD:P101
The Taoist subordinates the masculine aspect of the psyche to
the feminine. The masculine side of us wants to engineer the world
outside, and to author its outcomes. The art of the female is
to intimately cooperate with the world that surrounds her. Working
with each being's inherent abilities, the feminine brings forth
its autonomy.
Zuo Wang: Meditation
The subconscious speaks in a foreign tongue, using a complex
language. One can scarcely communicate with it using conventional
words. To engage it one can learn or create symbolic images that
will awaken its obscure power. To intimately connect with the
subconscious, one must then move beyond symbols and empty the
mind of conscious content. Some examples of methods that can be
used are meditationA2 (Zuo wang: "sitting forgetting"),
dreaming, hypnotism, the laying on of hands, and channeling of
psycho-visceral perception (psychic alchemy).
After descending deeply into the darkness of the subconscious,
one finds oneself within an incommensurable passageway. This is
the feminine realm of the psyche, the intuitive pathway. It is
a passageway that leads to the source of the soul, "The opacity
of the female is a doorway, it is called the root of heaven and
earth."LZ6
On the other side of the door lies a darkness even more impenetrable
to consciousness. Dropping into its depths, one at last perceives
with the inner vision (Jing shen). "A radiant clarity is
born from profound obscurity."ZZ22 It is here that one is
embraced by the undiluted force of creation; one attains unification
(Tong) with Tao.
Ci: This
Never has a demonstrative pronoun been so laden with meaning. In chapter twenty-one, Lao Zi gives a description of Tao and explains the relationship of De (power) to it; he then asks rhetorically "How do I know it is so?". He responds to his question with an answer not based on scripture or any other a priori authority. He says that he knows truth "by this" (Yi ci)". Ci refers to the perception he is having at this moment. Ci indicates the direct apprehension of reality in its immediacy and wholeness, the capture of the rich complexity of a moment irreducible to words. It is this self-authenticated experience of the world that is right here, right now.4
Yao: Composure
Zhuang Zi: "Yao yao (You you) hu ruo ji zhi you she": "Be as self-composed as if offering a sacrifice to the gods of the earth."ZZ17 Here one sees the relationship between the psychological state the Taoist cultivates, and the evolution of the Taoist ethos from the priests and shamans that came before them. The sacred awe with which the Shaman approached the gods, speaks of the intimacy the Taoist seeks with "everything under heaven."
Shen wu: Shaman
The first Taoists were successors of a shamanistic line. While
a Confucian priest relies on the institution of the priesthood
to initiate him and transmit knowledge to him, the shaman finds
access to the roots of truth during a radical decent into the
bowels of her own soul. The priest is taught the nature of reality
by religious authorities; the shaman must plummet into depths
of consciousness and find it for herself.5 The shaman imitates
the Creator gods. On the trip back to organized consciousness
she must pull up with her the material for the construction of
a new world, an ever evolving creation. This is the most daunting
aspect of the shaman's work: she must stand on her own reality.
The function of both the priest and the shaman are vital for a
healthy society. The priest promotes the stability of the communal
mind and the shaman provokes its evolution.
Gui: Ghost
"Call it the ghostly and daimonic.
Who stores it in the breast
Call the sage." Guan Zi (Translation: W. Allyn Rickett)GAD101
The Lao-Zhuang shaman predecessors were experts in visiting
the world of spirit and interceding with displeased ghosts. In
Lao-Zhuang there is a shift toward a more psychological and less
metaphysical context for human spirituality. However, the ghosts
do not disappear. What does become rare in these writings is the
notion that an error may anger a ghost and bring calamity. In
Lao-Zhuang Taoism the individual becomes the autonomous manager
of his spiritual welfare: "Harm is not from Yin and Yang,
it is the work of your heart."ZZ23 The physical body is subject
to the limits imposed by destiny but one is sovereign over spiritual
well-being.
The two supra-natural forces in Chinese literature are the Gui
(ghosts) and the Shen (spirits). In Lao-Zhuang Taoism the Shen
are ascendant, and both Gui and Shen are almost always depicted
as benign entities who will come and divulge their wisdom if they
find a suitable habitat. This opportunity is found within a human
heart that is serenely collected for a reception: "Let your
eyes and ears penetrate within, put the knowing of the mind outside,
then ghosts and spirits will come to stay."ZZ4
Some people define the nature of these off-conscious powers as
gods or angels. Others see them as subconscious forces. In my
practice I interact with these forces, but do not precisely define
their nature. I prefer to follow the habit of those mystics who
are very untidy with their theology, whose words for "god"
and "spirit", and "Great Mother", have many
rich layers of personal and cosmic meaning.
A traditional Chinese individual considers the human being to
be the dwelling place of any number of Shen, both foreign and
domestic. And is it not possession by a "ghost" of my
own that most terrifies me, that unique spirit that is most authentically
myself? To be carried aloft by its incalculable force?
Yuan: Abyss, deep, profound
Xuan De: The Dark Power
"The eye closes and another entire
world is born."
Taira Restar
When I inadvertently step through a hole in my reality, I quickly
try to scramble out of it. When an adept falls into such darkness
he turns downward and lets its gravity pull him as far as possible
into the mystery. He seeks a deeper place. "This (Ci) is
the source root, where you can perceive heaven's essence."ZZ22
The conventional world that our mind inhabits has been cleverly
constructed by psychological and social forces. A picture of reality
is provided that gives us stability but at the same time limits
vision and growth. This structure must be disassembled (Jie) and
the foundations reworked if one wants to fully explore life's
possibilities. Zhuang Zi tells us that our world view is a dream.
"I call your ideas dreams and mine are too. Our words cheat
us, hanging us in suspension."ZZ2
The Taoist journey to extra-conscious realms corresponds to the
shaman's travel beyond the visible regions of the earth, to its
very beginning. "Tao is an abyss, the ancestor of all beings."LZ4
The purpose of such a sojourn is to gather wisdom and vitality
at the primal source: "Begin in the darkness of the unseen
world and regain great discernment."ZZ17 "Cultivating
one's natural ability returns one's power, the ascendant power
of the primordial."ZZ12
This distant travel takes one to a region that is undifferentiated
and disorganized. In this state, the mind may "seem dull
and unfocused; this is called the dark power, being one with the
great accordance".ZZ12 It is a return to one's original condition
before instinctual prowess was trained out of the psyche. "Return
is to regain the inexhaustible."ZZ24
Wei ding: not fixed, plastic
"Vast and vague, without shape,
Altering and transforming, never constant!"
Zhuang Zi, Chapter Thirty-threeGZZ282
Some two thousand years before the thoughts of existentialists
and post-modernists arose, and before modern science observed
the instability of time and subatomic matter, the Taoists had
perceived the plasticity of reality. Zhuang Zi: "Knowledge
has something it needs to describe, but what it describes can
never be finally fixed."ZZ6 The sage is the one who sees
the extraordinary malleability of reality, ("The great image
is formless."LZ41), and by her broad vision she provokes
its reconfiguration. She avoids having "a mind impoverished
by seeing only what it wants to see, an eye impoverished by learning
only what it wants to know."ZZ14
A miracle is a sudden accumulation of coincidence. When surprising
events occur around her we believe her performance is supernatural;
but the sage has merely remained open enough to perceive, choose,
and summon forth the uncanny intersection of many strands of circumstance.
Like Shun and Yu she has found "the tie that binds things
together."ZZ4
"Within yourself, no fixed position, things as they take
shape disclose themselves."GZZ281 The great scope (Da fang)
of the sage's vision lifts a veil from a world the rest of us
had mistaken to be quite profane.
Hun: Dull, muddled, stupid
Hun: Whole, indeterminate, nebulous
Hun: Undifferentiated, primordial chaos
"Others are clear,
Only I am muddled. (Hun)"
Lao Zi, Chapter Twenty
Whether one is a scientist or a theologian, it is important
for us to believe (or pretend) that we know "what all this
is about." We require a meaningful explanation for the existence
of our world. A system of ideas that gives order to it will lend
us emotional security.
Each of us has a huge emotional investment in our particular organization
of reality. Psychologically speaking, the scientist needs the
"big bang" as much as the theologian requires a Genesis.
We have to know the ultimate why and how; some of us, for example,
obstinately deny the obvious evidence of evolution; but others
are equally adamant about believing the incredible idea that Darwinian
evolution can be based solely on probability and random selection.
Mircea Eliade describes conventional man as being terrorized by
chaos.ES60 Humanity frames religious and/or scientific theories
to enable belief systems that will identify order; these ideologies
attempt to construct a reality with entirely rational structures
and reliable outcomes.
Just as the normal individual fears chaos, the Taoist embraces
it (Pao yi: hold to the one).LZ22 Taoist practice requires not
only discipline, but also risk. The discipline is the quieting
of the mind. The risk is the possibility of intellectual and emotional
vertigo. This can result from allowing the mind to become vulnerable
to a very unfamiliar world of open-ended possibilities and uncertain
dimensions.
Chinese spirituality is characterized by symbolic correspondences.
The practice of the adept (Zhi ren) has a cosmogonic correspondence.
The undifferentiated (Hun)LZ15 psychic state the Taoist adept
adopts, parallels the primordial chaos (Hun)LZ25 that existed
before the evolution of organized reality. The plunge into the
undifferentiated realms of the psyche corresponds to reimmersion
in the primordial chaotic blend of elements that gave birth to
the heaven and earth.
The sage allows articulated thoughts to dissolve (Huan) into the
mix of conscious and unconscious processes that lie in the murky
(Zhuo) waters below the mind's surface. This unorganized mental
condition releases (Jie) the mind from its learned depictions
of reality and allows the continual creation of new realities.
Each novel situation is a new world that requires spontaneous
(Zi ran) responses. Such a flexible (Rou) psychic state draws
on indeterminate and thus unrestricted mental resources; this
gives the adept's creative activity great responsiveness (Ying)
and thus efficacy (De).
For the Taoist chaos accurately describes the immediately given
field of reality. It is a ground that he is to further co-create.
Tao is an unseen pattern within this chaos, the path that leads
one through a mystery without one's ever knowing how: "Have
nothing to follow, have no method, only then you will begin to
apprehend the way." ZZ22
Fu: Return
Attain complete emptiness.
Hold tenaciously to tranquillity.
All beings arise,
And then I watch (Guan) their return.
Such a multitude of creatures,
And each of them
Returns to its root.
This coming back to one's root
Is called tranquillity (Jing).
Lao Zi, Chapter Sixteen
Fu is a rich Taoist symbol, a marriage of psychological and
cosmic images. It expresses the correspondence of two home-comings.
Fu is return as an alteration in mental state, and return as a
cosmic journey. Fu indicates the parallel movements of the psyche's
return to center, (a shift downward into the state of serene undifferentiated
thought); and the adept's symbolic journey to the unified Beginning
at the birth time of Creation.
Fu is psychologically experienced as a "vision" (Guan),
a transfiguration of reality. The radiance within the everyday
world becomes transparent, one is able to appreciate the spectacular
potential of the ordinary. One has returned to the world as it
was originally given.
Xuan: the dark
"It's not prayer, it's conversation."
Licia Rester
"Radiant Tao appears dark."
Lao Zi, Chapter Forty-one
As you become more intimate with Tao, you begin to realize that the thrust of your effort is well beyond anything you could put into words. With this increasing intimacy, you are joining an esoteric cult with a membership of two: your own self-awareness and the reality it inhabits. Most of the dialogue in which the two of you communicate will always lie out beyond the vision of conscious recognition. In these shadows the full engagement of two worlds is consummated, a subtle understanding that dimly appears, and yet broadly illuminates the vast inarticulate shadows of the soul.
Ying: Welcome
"There is nothing it (Tao) does
not welcome."
Zhuang Zi, Chapter Six
I was with my friend Scott, exploring a mountain hollow near
Sedona, Arizona. Hearing something diving at my head, I ducked
reflexively. But it was only an echo coming off the roof of the
cave, the crackling staccato of a serpent who was actually emerging
from a nearby pile of red rocks, below on the floor where I was
standing. The creature's striping was impossibly bright, a shade
of green quite unnatural for a rattlesnake. The inauspicious color
heightened my already sufficient regard for her intentions. I
quickly gained a respectful distance by jumping over a small wall
of stones. Safely over that wall, I reflected on my gratitude,
a snake's warning is more welcome than its bite.
The word Ying is used by Chinese in a surprising variety of contexts.
Ying qing is to welcome a guest. Ying nian is to welcome the new
year. Ying jin is to go to meet one's bride. And Ying ji is to
engage/attack an advancing enemy. In all contexts Ying implies
a careful and respectful attentiveness to someone or something
that is encountered.
One thing that is typically unwelcome in the pursuit of wisdom
is doubt. And yet in Chapter two of his book, Zhuang Zi celebrates
with poetic rapture the doubt he has about being able to definitively
conclude anything about the true nature of reality:
True is not true, so is not so. If true
were really true, the difference between true and not true
would be so obvious that there would be no debate. If so were
really so, the difference between
so and not so would be so obvious there would be no debate. Forget
the customs of past years,
forget rightness. Awaken! Explore a realm beyond the limits of
these misconceptions.ZZ2
Lao Zi in his twentieth chapter asks, "Yes or no? Isn't
the difference subtle? Good and evil, how much do they differ?"
Later in this chapter, he makes a mock complaint of his equivocation:
"Worldly people are clear, I alone am muddled."
To doubt is to be authentically human. It is to be spiritually
honest. We all have overt and hidden doubts about ourselves; we
may question the meaning and value of life itself. Doubt can destabilize
the mind; the threat of psychic disintegration is terrifying,
and we may deny doubt in an attempt to avoid this fear.
The Taoist has no agenda and can welcome doubt when it appears.
Recognized and invited to take a place of respect at his table,
doubt will challenge but not destroy him. "If you want to
dispose of something, you must first honor it."LZ36 Acknowledged,
doubt stays in its rightful place; ignored, it is a haunting presence.
Greeted as a sparing partner, doubt can sharpen the insight: but
feared and denied it can become a spiritual terrorist.
"The sage embraces the uncut timber."LZ20 She greets
reality in its natural wholeness, composed of both comprehensible
and unknowable elements. She has "learned to learn what cannot
be learned."ZZ23 She gathers the little knowledge she can
find and accepts the vast enigmas of the life with equanimity.
Knowledge and doubt are two parts of an undissectible mystery
and both are welcome. Doubt is better than a bite from something
one had mistakenly been certain about.
Passion and Paradox
"In the case of the emotions, it
is best to
let them go along with things."
Zhuang Zi, Chapter TwentyBZZ216
Passion is various, most basic is the passion to live. Years
ago, I lived in a partially underground hole near a village called
Khe Sahn. Many of the area residents were intent on removing my
fellows and me from this place, and for a period of months, they
nearly continuously sent an array of explosive devices to fall
upon their enemy invaders. With eagerness to remain alive, I initially
made some foolish decisions in the endeavor to do
so.
A number of duties called me from my relatively safe quarters
in the ground, exposing me to the adept targeting of the base
by the indigenous opposition. When I was new at the base, there
were several times when I made the classic error of the green
infantryman. Hearing the warning sound of incoming rounds, which
arrives seconds before the shell itself, I ran for cover. Well,
of course, in this situation, there is not time to run, and by
remaining in an upright position, I exposed myself to a geometrically
increased chance of being hit by shrapnel. One rather needs to
get down, to "hit the deck".
One day, our gunnery sergeant dryly remarked, "If a Marine
is too obsessed with living, he'll never get a regular flight
out of Khe Sahn." From then on, I rapidly developed the uncanny
"disinterest" of the would-be survivor: a somewhat fatalistic
acceptance of death's likelihood, with an underlying desire to
beat the game. I stopped thinking about surviving, and with concentrated
awareness, stayed passionately attuned to the sights and sounds
of the provocative environment. With keen practice, even amidst
the indiscreet noise of a modern war machine, I could detect the
dull pop of an artillery piece ten miles away. On many occasions
I was able to respond correctly to the surrounding stimuli, and
noted with horror, those near my side who had not. In recent years,
I have come to better understand the "magic" in the
gunnery sergeant's advice: this is the mind's ability, as my friend
Rujie Wang describes this Taoist paradox, "to disengage in
order to better and more fully engage."
The word Tao means "way" in Chinese. It is a prescription
for the way one is to think, to act, to live. The practice of
the "way" is characterized by a nearly continuous intimate
engagement of immediate reality. It is a mental approach to life's
events that frees the spirit from the grip of an excessive, anxious
rumination. Stilling the mind's talk, one allows room, a relatively
silent space for intuitive mental processes to flourish. The result
of the practice is a more deepened awareness of the subtle richness
of everyday life, a more intimate connection with the forces that
underlie this reality.
Nature instills desire in us and we naturally become anxious about
meeting these desires. We easily acquire the habit of filling
our mental space with continuous preoccupation: will we and how
will we achieve a myriad of wants and needs? Some of the sects
within Buddhism and Christianity suggest that we transcend the
suffering of our lives through a virtual elimination of desire.
Their aim is to cleanse the mind of everything that clouds one's
view of the ultimate, the supersensory reality.
The Taoists saw usefulness in the modulation of desire, while
recognizing its legitimate value. They are not as concerned with
the degree or the specifics of a desire, as much as with the amount
of mental energy misdirected in an attempt to engineer its outcome.
Among philosophical/religious doctrines one often finds a tension
between the value of "worldly" passion, and that of
passion for enlightenment. The ancient Manicheans admonished their
followers to gain transcendence through the elimination of corporal
desire. Although the Manicheans were Western, the Manichean tendency
seems to be innately human. It is found within diverse spiritual
ideologies who think a divine power will reward suffering. Zhuang
Zi criticized the Mohists who "regarded self-made bitterness
as the way to reach perfection."ZZ33
Gaining blessings from contrived bitterness is foreign to Taoist
thought. Their concept of Divinity is not typical; it is misleading
to use the English word "God" for Creator in their cosmology.
Zhuang Zi speaks of the "maker of things"(Zao wu zhe).
This Prime Mover is not moved by human behavior, no moral credit
is tallied up for acts of emotional purification, one can not
gain favor by righteousness: "Heaven has no favoritism among
those sheltered below it, earth has no favoritism among those
carried above it...."ZZ6 Although one could not please the
maker, the Taoists attempted to attain harmony with the forces
that are continually creating heaven and earth. They were interested
in "the way of heaven," primarily how to negotiate its
mysterious channels. They sought efficacy not holiness. A spiritual
ethos that tolerated procreation only as a necessary evil, for
example, would be a very foreign concept to Taoist thinking.
The paradoxical play of purity and passion in Indian philosophy
is presented by Joseph Campbell in his discussion of the Yoga
Sutra, a work attributed to the sage Patanjali.JC:P34 Patanjali
described a pond's surface that rippled with the wind, and then
was clear and accurately revealed the world above and below it
when the wind stopped. His analogy describes the adept's ability
to alternately enjoy both of two phenomena: the outer manifestations
of reality and its inner truth. Historians suspect but have found
no direct evidence of a cross pollination among Patanjali's thoughts
and those of the Taoists. But one finds compacted in just fifteen
Chinese characters in the first chapter of Lao Zi's work, a prescription
strikingly similar to the analogy of Patanjali:
"Gu chang wu yu yi guan qi miao; chang you yu yi guan qi chiao."
D. C. Lau translates these fifteen (which refer to the Tao) as follows:
Hence always rid yourself of desires
in order to observe its secrets;
but always allow yourself to have desires in order to observe
its
manifestations.LLZ1
This translation portrays a paradox of alternately obtaining
benefits from desire and then the absence of desire. Is it like
Patanjali's example of the pond? Do desire and non-desire freely
alternate, giving separate episodes of delight? Or does it indicate
a perhaps more intriguing paradox? A. C. Graham believes that
Lao Zi's words describe a remarkable synthesis; one that "smashes
the dichotomy," allowing desire and no desire to be simultaneously
present.GADP220
This unity of opposites, or psychic synthesis may become better
understood as the science of neurology advances, but its essence
will probably remain ineffable. In their writing, the Taoists
provide approximations of its nature, illustrating in their stories
this unifying principle at work in the daily world of farmers
and kings. One such illustration of this subtle Tao is given by
Lie Zi:
A man lived by the sea. Every day he
would go to the shore and hundreds of seagulls would come to stroll
with him. One day his father said, "I hear that all the seagulls
come to roam with you. Catch some and bring them to me so I can
play with them."
The next day he went to the shore but seagulls would not land.
Lie Zi, Chapter Two
In the second instance, the man loses the object of his desire
because of his intention to appropriate it for himself. Far from
telling us not to have wants, the Taoist is advising us that we
can gain even more than we want, by not trying to arrange and
possess life in our small-minded ways.
Now to go back to those fifteen characters of Lao Zi. Many translations
of Lao Zi do not present the paradox seen in the translation of
D.C. Lau above. These others translate a very different meaning.
One example is Arthur Waley's:
"Truly, 'Only he that rids himself
forever of desire can see the Secret Essences',
He that has never rid himself of desire can see only the outcomes."
WLZ1
As you can see, "desire" is a negative in both the
first and second line. It's just no good; I can almost visualize
a Confucian sage shaking his finger at me.
Perhaps the world's other great thinkers and religions (or their
theological misinterpreters) have overly influenced Waley's rendering
of the Chinese, and that of many of the Western translators who
concur with him. (Most of the Chinese translators I have read
follow D.C. Lau's rendering.) It may be difficult for translators
who have a natural Manichean prejudice (primeval guilt?) to believe
that the sophisticated Taoists had a respectable place for passion
in the pursuit of wisdom.
The elimination of passion which is implied in Waley's interpretation
of the fifteen characters, will not achieve the harmony of the
Taoist paradigm. Laundry lists of do's and don'ts and other traditional
practices such as fasting and abstinence, can actually distract
one from proper focus. "Do not martyr yourself for perfection
or you will lose your natural sanctity."ZZ29 Although ascetic
practices sometimes aid mindfulness, because of the mind's astute
self-trickery, they are often agents of conceit; we fool ourselves
when we contrive a path to wisdom.
The question then is, not eating or fasting, passion or prayer;
the important dynamic is the mental state. What is the nature
of one's thought processes during these and every other of the
day's activities? Is the mind in a state of open awareness, responding
naturally to the flow of reality; or is it noisily contriving
outcomes? Is the soldier fully present to the battlefield or is
he preoccupied with fear of death? It is not what I do, but how
I am thinking during each doing.
The intent of the Taoist is effectiveness not sanctification.
Sanctification is a moot issue, as all things are of the sacred
Tao. It is not passion that reduces creative power (De), but rather
the desire (Yu) to appropriate and control the agents of pleasure.
An ego-limited agenda precludes the spontaneity (Zi ran) and flexibility
(Rou) that would invite the full richness of life to come forth.
Desire, as expressed in acquisitive thought, (thoughts concerned
with securing specific assets, e.g. goods, persons, status), injures
the precursor of power: mental tranquillity. "Eliminate the
desire (for outcomes other than those that occur naturally), and
attain tranquillity." ("Bu yu yi jing"LZ37.) The
Taoist work is toward wholeness, the "uncarved block,"
freeing the mind from its busy analytic reduction of reality,
liberating (Jie) the spirit to experience the manifold wonder
of world.
Bing: Affliction
"I considered what might have caused
me to reach
this extremity, but I am unable to grasp it."
Zhuang Zi, Chapter Six
When I lived in West Africa I occasionally saw mothers sitting
upon the earth with very ill infants before them. Sometimes one
beckoned to me, perhaps hoping that such an unusual looking creature
might be magical and able to cure disease. But I could only listen
as I looked into the faces of these suffering mothers and children.
I can tell you that while looking closely I saw nothing in these
eyes nor crying lips that gave evidence of past crimes; whenever
I looked I only saw holy faces.
The Lao-Zhuang Taoist adept does not attempt to become invulnerable
to the human condition, a existence that includes ignorance, pain,
and death. But his ability to thrive in each present moment is
no longer determined by those factors. He is fearless, not because
he has procured an escape from mortality, but because he has grasped
the inner radiance of the wonder and joy of being alive. It is
precisely by remaining aware of his vulnerability that he is able
to deeply anchor a humility that is the root of his freedom and
creative power.
The Taoist has no rationalization for the random suffering we
observe in the world. She speaks only of a way to reduce pain
for those lucky enough to have found it.
Si: Death
"You obtain life at its time and
lose it when expedient. Content with the
moment and at home in the expedient, neither grief nor joy can
be
entertained." Zhuang Zi, Chapter Six
"It's the cup looking half-full
or half empty. A Manichean thinks earth
is hell and wants to get off. He's sure the human condition was
caused
by some fool god's metaphysical bungling. On the other hand there
are
thinkers like Dal Witlock. She once told me she guessed that if
there were
any divine slip-up, it was most likely an overindulgence, and
she was happy
to be here as long as the error persisted." Rawley Creed
All purveyors of wisdom are required to take a stance toward
death. Buddha and Saint Paul used metaphysics to take the sting
out of death. Zhuang Zi, like the Hebrew prophet Ecclesiastes,
approaches it with blithe humor: "The maker of things may
transform my ass into a wheel and my soul into a horse, what a
ride I would have then!"ZZ6 These two latter sages, armed
with bemused resignation, seemed to have at least achieved a stand-off
with their opponent.
Although the tactics of any of these four prophets' might be called
crafty rationalizations by some critics, there is wisdom at work
in all of their diverse ideas. Death is a formidable opponent,
but the human mind is not required to cringe before it. "Death
or life, saving or losing, defeated or accomplished, destitute
or rich.....these are not to enter the spirit's chamber (Ling
fu)."ZZ5 It is still the individual who freely decides whether
to allow the thought of death to disrupt his life today, or to
entirely restrict its disturbing power to the appointed hour.
"Cautious indeed, as if in winter crossing the river."
Lao Zi, Chapter
Fifteen
Taoism, like the magic door in the Hermann Hesse book Steppenwolf, is an "entrance not for everybody." And for those who enter, movement inside is to be done gingerly. The ego is a very thin skin, but for most of us it is better than no skin at all. After Zhuang Zi's self-image was injured at the magpie incident in the forest, he was depressed for three days. (ZZ20) The ego is a feeble but practical way to protect the self, and Taoism can be an ego-bruising journey and much worse. When you nearly completely eliminate your ego, you lose one of the primary tools you have used to organize reality. Such a loss can easily cause extreme psychological, and even physical, vertigo.
Those of us who attempt the twisting trail that takes one
further and further away from the values and structures that our
native cultures have instilled into our psyche, occasionally,
or more often, fall on our faces. The old familiar safeguards
for reality-testing have vanished. At these times, we may question
whether we have only succeeded in constructing a singular illusion.
Have we merely invented a personal fairy tale to replace the
tribal dogmas that our forebears gave us to help us confront the
often frightening world we inhabit? At critical points in our
journey, the new spiritual world we have discovered and founded
our faith in, can begin to have an insipid taste, start to crumble,
and soon grave doubts loom over us. We may experience "the
dark night of the soul" described by St. John of the Cross.
It was good of John to warn of such psychic events, for this
warning has helped many who have fallen into an unexpected chasm.
One is sometimes able to begin climbing out merely by realizing
what has happened. Lao Zi speaks of the abyss (Yuan) that is
the progenitor of all beings. (LZ4) Zhuang Zi compares the adept's
skill to the corpse-like stillness of a dragon waiting in the
soundless abyss (Yuan mo). (ZZ11) The abyss describes the psyche
emptied of its entire collection of learned preconceptions; the
more emptying, the more deeply one penetrates into a mysterious
darkness. It is upon this completed emptiness/openness that the
new foundation of a sovereign psychic world would be grounded.
And herein lies the danger. If someone disassembles all his
conventional beliefs and does not yet have the fortitude, daring,
and enough luck to be able to construct his own autonomous reality,
he has fallen into a potentially lethal abyss.
Eva Wong writes about and practices Taoism; she says "The
spiritual landscape is both attractive and forbidding, and travelers
need to be aware of hazards along the way." (EW:P2) When
I used to read such warnings, I suspected it might be a ploy
to make the subject more enticing. But I have come to understand
that releasing the Pandora's box of a soul's ingredients can be
a mixed blessing, especially when one is not ego intact. When
the government of a mind is overturned there is a release of enough
unchanneled qi to severely destabilize life.
To work outside normal consciousness, out beyond the rigid
structure of personality that one has innocently built for oneself,
is to step on a surface that is exceedingly fluid. Its creative
potential is vast, but this surface is too thin to support the
needs of the normal human psyche. A break with the world as you
know it can ruin your whole day.
The Taoist keeps one foot walking in the conventional world
while the other foot is stepping within a chasm of unlimited opportunity
and danger. This split footing paradoxically provides both the
coherency and stability needed for walking amidst a landscape
of endlessly creative volatility.
Yu: Caution