Thoughts on the Tao Te Ching 76

Poem 76

Men are born soft and supple;
dead, they are stiff and hard.

Plants are born tender and pliant;

dead, they are brittle and dry.

Thus whoever is stiff and inflexible

is a disciple of death.

Whoever is soft and yielding

is a disciple of life.

The hard and stiff will be broken.

The soft and supple will prevail.

Commentary

One cannot but love metaphors as they resonate with many levels of meaning, and depending on either the time of day or the mood the reader is in they offer up differing insights.  Rigidity versus flexibility are wonderful metaphors for ways of being in the world. As such they have much to teach us.  Let's take the ego by way of example by looking at the person who believes he or she knows the one way or the correct way to do something.  To be a "know all" can lead very quickly to our downfall as we will quickly learn from lived experience.  It is often better to declare our ignorance before we start to solve a problem because that way we are open to all lines of inquiry, and we shut out no avenue of exploration no matter how improbable that may seem at first sight.  This is the long known approach of the great Socrates. First, he says, the inquirer must always declare his ignorance and proceed in logical steps from there.  So flexibility in thought is much to be advised.

Likewise, flexibility in feelings is also much to be desired.   To stubbornly and inflexibly follow one path just because we dislike or even hate another person and deep down know we are wrong is another form of ignorance.

Likewise, look at the way some leaders function. Good leaders learn to motivate others through being flexible in their approach to leading their staff rather than rigid.  Being rigid often sets us up for defeat.  Did you ever work with someone who was a control freak, who couldn't let go or who could not delegate?  I worked with one such person once and he ended up working himself into an early grave.  I still work with a few control freaks.  They seek in vain to micro-manage things. Unfortunately,  or rather, very fortunately, the world simply does not work like that.  The forces of life work so much differently, and they don't spend too long teaching us the error of our ways. That's how people get all those psychosomatic illnesses from peptic ulcers right across the board to high blood pressure, nervous breakdowns, panic attacks and actual heart attacks.

How many times have we heard the age-old advice that we must learn to "go with the flow"? Flow theory was popularised by Mihaly Csikszentmihali who really discovered nothing new. Rather, he was open enough to recognise this process, give it a name and describe it in detail and then popularise it.  Here is a Ted Talk he has given on this interesting theory if you are interested: TED TALK.  

Thankfully, I learned early in my teaching career just how much I can control, when to ask for help, when to take action according to how serious something is.  One has to learn to become open to observation, to learn to read the signs, pick up the clues and interpret them properly.  That, of course, can only come with experience.  There is a Zen recommendation that it is better to be flexible like the grass rather than rigid like a tree in the wind.  Indeed, this is very old wisdom and even Aesop had a fable about it.  An old proverb runs that it is "better to bend than break," or even that "reeds survive the wind while mighty oaks do fall." Obviously, the same wisdom is found in the above short poem.

So softness is often preferable to hardness, gentleness to strength, flexibility to rigidity if we are to survive our journey through life.

Thoughts on the Tao Te Ching 38

Poem 38

The Master doesn't try to be powerful;

thus he is truly powerful.

The ordinary man keeps reaching for power;

thus he never has enough.

The Master does nothing,

yet he leaves nothing undone.

The ordinary man is always doing things,

yet many more are left to be done.

The kind man does something,

yet something remains undone.

The just man does something,

and leaves many things to be done.

The moral man does something,

and when no one responds

he rolls up his sleeves and uses force.

When the Tao is lost, there is goodness.

When goodness is lost, there is morality.

When morality is lost, there is ritual.

Ritual is the husk of true faith,

the beginning of chaos.

Therefore the Master concerns himself

with the depths and not the surface,

with the fruit and not the flower.

He has no will of his own.

He dwells in reality,

and lets all illusions go.

Commentary

It is sad but true that a certain number of people like to exercise their power over others.  Of course, you can substitute the word "control" for "power."  I have never ceased to be perturbed and amused in turn by these "power-hungry" or "control-obsessed" people. Why does this or that person want to exert their power or control over others?  They must feel very much undermined by others, that is, their own sense of self-confidence must be very low.  They are saying to themselves, in a sense, something like the following: "I will have to exert my power here or I shall be totally undermined.  I am someone, you know!" That is the way, I believe, that they see themselves.  

The school where I teach, founded 1888: Place of Learning & Wisdom

I remember the clinical psychologist and conference speaker Dr.Tony Humphreys saying that "all control is self-control."  In like manner we can say that "all power is power-over-self."  True power, I believe, is actually self-knowledge or at least an openness to learning to grow in self-knowledge.  These two paragraphs, then, are an explication of the first stanza above which I'll repeat for emphasis here:

 The Master doesn't try to be powerful;

thus he is truly powerful.

The ordinary man keeps reaching for power;

thus he never has enough.

The author of the blog waiting on the ferry for Reggio at Messina, Sicilia

One thing no commentator can tire of repeating is that when one reads literary and spiritual texts one is in the realm of image, simile and metaphor.  Therefore, it is at a significant cost to the truth to indulge in literalism and simplistic or surface or superficial interpretation. When a seeker of the truth encounters literalism, in other words, any fundamentalist reading of a text s/he is not a little shaken by the seeming refusal to let go of the easy and superficial interpretation that assaults and insults our native intelligence and our natural and honest scepticism.  Truth is never simple.  There are no easy saccharine answers to help us swallow the pill of the harsh realities of life.  Truth is often a deeper and darker mystery which we are always striving to reach and often striving to be open to its outreach into us, too.

View of Badolato Beach

So, what is our author poet getting at above?  What lies below a literal or literalist reading of the words?  The idea that lies below the surface in the depths of meaning is something like what I attempted to describe in the last paragraph, to which I will add the following comments.  Often, the wise person observes and meditates and contemplates on what s/he observes.  Then, and only them, do they react and do things.  In other words, the wise person does not over-react; does not take things personally; does not try to give what to them appears to be the obvious, though superficial answer or reaction to this or that situation; rather they wait and then respond to the given situation with a wise equanimity. In this, they are seen to be calm and still, almost unperturbed as if they had done nothing. However, really and truly, they have done a lot by not rushing into action with the simple and superficial solution that all too often gets further and further negative reactions and over-reactions down the line.  That is what I believe the poet has in mind when he says of the Master or Mistress that he or she "does nothing." Hence, we can now intuit the meaning of the paradox that in doing nothing the Master leaves nothing undone.

Wild flowers, Calabria, Italia

Once again, our Taoist poet proceeds with similar and parallel paradoxes which we now understand cannot simply be taken at a literal, literalist or superficial level.  The reader or meditator or contemplator has to dig much deeper for the unvarnished truth.  I will leave it to the reader here to interpret the series of paradoxes with which the author continues to confront us in this poem.  I wholeheartedly agree that ritual can be nothing but a husk of faith if it has no implications for the way we behave and act in our day-to-day world. However, as a part-time counsellor and psychotherapist I value the important role of ritual in community life in terms of its helping us cope with birth, marriage and death and other big transitions we have to make in our little brittle lives.  However, on the level of paradox, beyond the literal and literalist level, I intuit the deeper truth at which out Taoist poet points me.

In conclusion, there is no better way of finishing this post than with repeating the final stanza of the above poem which lifts me to the heights of my spirit and brings me down to the depths of my soul as I type these few words:

  Therefore the Master concerns himself

with the depths and not the surface,

with the fruit and not the flower.

He has no will of his own.

He dwells in reality,

and lets all illusions go.

Thights on the Tao Te Ching 30

Poem 30

Whoever relies on the Tao in governing men

doesn't try to force issues

or defeat enemies by force of arms.

For every force there is a counterforce.

Violence, even well intentioned,

always rebounds upon oneself.

The Master does his job

and then stops.

He understands that the universe

is forever out of control,

and that trying to dominate events

goes against the current of the Tao.

Because he believes in himself,

he doesn't try to convince others.

Because he is content with himself,

he doesn't need others' approval.

Because he accepts himself,

the whole world accepts him.

Commentary

In our last post we commented that all control is self-control.  It is surely also a parallel truism to observe that all acceptance is self-acceptance and another to opine that all love springs from authentic self-love.  One can run oneself ragged helping others, even work oneself into nervous exhaustion.  It is when, paradoxically, one really authentically looks after one's self that one can be truly caring of others.

Evergreen Tree: Newbridge House

Once again, I must confess that the above Taoist poem is a little too negative for me, and I believe it recommends a certain passivity and fatalism that sticks in the throat of us moderns.  However, there is a certain wisdom is the advice that it is generally better not to force an issue, not to push things beyond breaking point with others.  Without a shadow of a doubt, such pushing leads all too inevitably to war, and we have far too many examples of these wars in today's world.  It is also a truism to comment that violence leads inevitably to more violence and thence it spirals way out of control.

Once again, I invite the willing reader to read the above poem reflectively and let some word, phrase or line offer itself as a mantra for a short meditation.

In this Season of Seasons, this Season of Peace and Justice, I wish all the readers of these few thoughts, peace in their own lives and those of their families.  Namaste, friends.

 

Thoughts on the Tao Te Ching 29

Poem 29

Do you want to improve the world?

I don't think it can be done.

The world is sacred.

It can't be improved.

If you tamper with it, you'll ruin it.

If you treat it like an object, you'll lose it.

There is a time for being ahead,

a time for being behind;

a time for being in motion,

a time for being at rest;

a time for being vigorous,

a time for being exhausted;

a time for being safe,

a time for being in danger.

The Master sees things as they are,

without trying to control them.

She lets them go their own way,

and resides at the center of the circle.

Commentary

Yellow Poppy

Having lived in this world for almost 58 years now, I have in the past been mostly annoyed and angry at people who cannot resist the urge to take control of others, though mostly I am more amused at their antics in the last number of years.  Life has taught me that I simply cannot control any other human being, much less the world.  We are such insignificant ants on the anthill called the Earth, a mere individual among about 7.3 billion human beings. And yet some of us think we are so important that we actually dare to attempt to control others.  I remember reading in one of Dr Tony Humphrey's books the succinct and wise statement: "All control is self-control!" There is much wisdom in that - indeed, there is much Zen in it, or even, dare I say it, much Tao!  As a young teacher I often went astray by trying to control what I simply could not control.  We can only exert influence over whatever little patch of ground that we alone are in charge of.  I learnt from other more experienced teachers how to exercise control within my own classroom and how to give instructions to adolescents without their sounding like being commands inviting opposition.  

It is indeed a truism to say that none of us can change the world, and we know that working together, yet again like ants on an anthill, but with all our wonderful brain power, we can achieve much material change for the good of humankind.  I think the above poem is somewhat pessimistic about life in a way, though one can understand such an attitude given that the poem was written over 2,000 years ago when no one could change much about an inevitably hostile world and where human lifespan was very short indeed.

Much spirituality essentially boils down to working on our egotism.  Just as the sun certainly does not revolve around the Earth, the world certainly does not revolve around any one individual.  There is nothing as bad as encountering people who are egotistical and self-centered.  St John the Evangelist put this in a very Christian way - as he, needless to say, saw our relationship with Jesus Christ as being of paramount importance - "He must increase and I must decrease" or as it is also translated, "He must become greater, I must become less." (John 3:30)  In other words we can translate this overtly Christian exhortation as a recommendation to bring our egos under control.

Malahide at sunset

Christmas Day is a special one for all Christians.  Even if you are of another faith or even none, you can still rejoice in the power of the simple yet wonderful myth or story, that whatever power is behind the universe (some dare call this power God) deigned take human form in the shape of a simple little infant.  This doctrine is known as that of the Incarnation, literally the en-fleshing of the Godhead in human form.  If anything, the heart of the meaning of this myth is that all of creation and especially humankind are shot through with a value that is beyond human reckoning.  This, then, I believe, is what it means to say that something is sacred.  The Earth and all it contains is sacred, that is, of priceless value. Christians believe, then, that everything in creation, especially humanity as the guardians of the goods of the Earth, is sacred.

The above poem shares some of this Christian insight into the sacredness of the world.  I admit it sounds somewhat negative to our modern ears, but I remind the reader again that this verse was written over 2000 years ago when people were simpler and fatalism loomed large in all cultures.

I need hardly remind the readers of this blog that the third stanza above is remarkably like the more famous stanzas from Ecclesiastes 3 from the Old Testament: "There is a time for everything, // And a season for every activity under the heavens" etc.  Once again the Taoist and Biblical writers are ad idem  with their enthusiasm to pile polar opposites one on top of another.  I have mentioned over and over again in these posts that spiritual writers of every hue have a predilection for the balancing of polar opposites and for keeping the healthy tension between both poles.  One could do worse than read Taoist Poem 29 in conjunction with Ecclesiastes 3.

My prayer for anyone reading these rather short and hurried reflections is that we may learn to let go of the restrictions of the ego, to let go of the urge to control others, to learn to accept what we cannot change and at the end of the day to learn to live peacefully with ourselves and others.  After all, we are what we are and we must learn to love ourselves, forgive ourselves and be compassionate to ourselves as well as to others.  That is no easy task, but it sure is one essential one if we are to steer the bark of self through the choppy waters of life.

Namaste, friends and a very Happy Christmas.