When we see the deeper meaning in self-reflection, the real challenge is finding the balance between discipline and realizing the natural flow of awareness and the truths we’ve always carried within us. 
The core meaning and purpose of inward training lie in its promotion of this practice.
What we’ve discussed appears not only in Taoism but also in many mystical traditions worldwide, with the mysticism of early Christianity being a clear example. It seems that finding our path often comes with letting go of the identities we hold onto and shifting how we see ourselves—as conscious, evolving beings, even as spirit.
When I think about how I want to define consciousness, the first thing that comes to mind is clearing away or letting go of thoughts and actions that no longer define myself as well as others. Sometimes we look to meditation and prayer as what we call clearing away and letting go of traits that no longer can define the path we now choose to follow and are no longer present.
We start by seeking the tranquility found in a fully focused inner awareness of unity. As Chuang Tzu and Lieh Tzu tell us, this unity is filled with light and clarity, unbound by the individual self, and exists beyond our own being. To what defines becoming universal means to us and to be open to discussing our views with others with differing views as we look to common ground.
It’s about creating and finding peace of mind, a place free from contention. It starts by letting go of the traits that don’t fit the journey ahead. The peace within us grows louder when we surround ourselves with ideas of clarity, harmony and stillness.
So how do we figure out what tranquility means to us? Respecting mentors and teachers can help us learn, through their example, the tools we need to discover and finetune our own path. Learning from multiple teachers gives us the flexibility to set our own boundaries and the freedom to shape both our lives and personal goals.
Finding ourselves in a place free of contention, one that speaks to our highest aspirations, is where our journey can truly begin. It’s rarely an easy path. When you strive to be a force for good, you sometimes have to wonder who is listening.
My travels with Lieh Tzu / Interpolations along the Way
Chapter Eight – Explaining Conjunctions
152. Who is to blame when we can’t stop Living?
What can be the point of attempting to prolong one’s life if we have lived the proper way and can look forward to something better when we come back again? Is not death one’s chance or opportunity to be reborn. Why be so afraid? Have we not learned not to strive for the outside ourselves? That with contention comes confusion that only serves to help us to lose our ultimate direction. Is it not better to have no reason to contend?
Again, another story comes to mind, a favorite of Lieh Tzu’s. He has told it often when a point needs to be made. Lieh Tzu’s says it is a story frequently told to him by his mentor and good friend Hu‑tzu. Lieh Tzu tells it this way. There was a man who said he knew the way to become immortal. The Lord of Yen sent a messenger to get the secret, but he procrastinated, and the man died before he could get there. The Lord of Yen was furious and intended to execute the messenger upon his arrival home.
However, one of his ministers told him:
“None of a man’s cares is more urgent than death, just as you yourself have illustrated. And there is nothing he values more than his life. The man you seek has lost his own life; how could he have made you immortal?”
Upon hearing this the Lord of Yen decided not to kill the messenger. Another man named Chi‑tzu also wished to learn about the way to be immortal and beat his chest in vexation when he too heard the man was dead. Still another man, a philosopher named Fu‑tzu heard about this man’s vexation and said:
“A man who wishes to learn how to become immortal, and is vexed when the teacher dies himself, does not know what it is he wants to learn.” Lieh Tzu stopped for a moment and exclaimed before continuing his story: “Ah! This is not true. As Hu‑tzu will explain to us, Fu‑tzu is wrong. This is not the way.”
Hu‑tzu tells us that there are always men who possess a theory they themselves cannot act on, or who can act without possessing the theory. A good example of this is a man of Wei, who was good at mathematics. 
When he was near death he disclosed his secrets to his son, who could remember the words but not apply them. Another man questioned the son, who told him what his father had said. The other man went by what he said and applied the theory successfully as the son’s father had done. Hu‑tzu finished the story by questioning why a mortal should not then be able to talk about the theory of living forever.
Lieh Tzu concludes by saying that it was not the fault of the man who originally said he possessed the way to become immortal. Nor the man who delayed finding him before his untimely death. The fault was with the Lord of Yen and Chi‑tzu who wanted someone else to discover the way for them, instead of finding it for themselves. Fu‑tzu was smarter than the other two in stating that those two did not know what it is he wants or needs to learn and instead looks to another to show them.
However, in the end, it is Hu‑tzu who knows the correct answer to the riddle of life, death, and immortality. That one must know both the theory and how to act and in doing so had he not found the way to live forever. Lieh Tzu sat back in his chair after telling the story and reminisced about the times he had traveled with his friend and mentor Hu‑tzu. Only to find himself drifting off to sleep to travel once again. 9/2/95
Number one hundred fifty-two of one hundred fifty-eight entries.
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