Number 56

June 1, 2018

To always write as if the last thing you wrote is the best thing you have ever written.

 Te-Ch’ing says,

“Those who guard their life don’t cultivate life, but what controls life. What has life is form. What controls life is nature. When we cultivate our nature, we return to what is real and forget bodily form. Once we forget form, our self becomes empty. Once our self is empty, nothing can harm us. Once there is no self, there is no life. How could there be death?”

What could be a greater aspiration than to be so in tune with the Tao that you become the Way? To be like the Bob Dillon song… to be always “Knock, knock, knocking on Heaven’s door”. As if we’ve been on a long trip and just can’t wait to get home. Or the song, “It’s no use to sit and wonder why babe. As we succumb to the notion as a natural extension of ourselves, we don’t think twice it’s alright”.

How is it we come to live day-to-day? Who do we spend our time with? What aspirations are worth paying attention to and how can they matter? Why are we driven by fear of the unknown… when there are things that can never be known? I think it has to do with what Joseph Campbell called the eternal quest and our bliss and Jack Kerouac, of the beat generation fame who expressed, what we do in finding and becoming one with our source.

As if as relayed here later… how can death possibly matter except where we find ourselves as we return to our beginnings. If we are granted two lives as expressed below, that each of us have two lives, “The one we learn with, and the one we life after that” then how do we live our lives except to find our natural rhythm that brings us closer and in tune with the Tao? And just what is this bliss thing, but contentment found in the clouds with old friends once again.

There have always been warnings by writers, philosophers, and poets against getting too caught up in the mystical approach or search for “what may be possible”.

A great philosopher known as Kierkegaard, wrote that too much “possibility” led to what he referred to as a “madhouse” in our thinking.

This leads us to what can be called the “sickness of infinitude” as we wander from one path to another with no real recognition that we have even entered into or are embarking on a search at all. Or having even a clue as to what we were searching for to begin with. The key being that at the bottom of every breath there is a hallow place needing to be filled.

One of Kierkegaard’s recurrent themes is the importance of subjectivity, which has to do with the way people relate themselves to (objective) truths. In Concluding Unscientific Postscript to Philosophical Fragments, he argues that “subjectivity is truth” and “truth is subjectivity.” What he means by this is that most essentially, truth is not just a matter of discovering objective facts. While objective facts are important, there is a second and more crucial element of truth, which involves how one relates oneself to those matters of fact. Since how one acts is, from the ethical perspective, more important than any matter of fact, truth is to be found in subjectivity rather than objectivity.

What attracted me most to Kierkegaard, was comparisons on Eastern thought to Chuang Tzu, whose premise of challenging the status quo, especially Confucius was central to defining what could be seen as truth.

A whole “industry” rose up in China over two thousand years ago in the production of “commentaries”. Whereby analyzing what Confucius and other luminaries (the voices of status quo) really said or meant, was to become “what did they really mean.”

The idea that truth is only subject to the eyes of the beholder holds much the same today. Many feel it was Chuang Tzu’s attitude toward death as simply a continuum that led to Chan Buddhism’s success in becoming a fixture in Chinese thought, religion, and philosophy.

The Dragons are waiting.

Yin and yang tell us to wait without anxiety. Earth and sky, water and heaven wait for the seasons and all things that will come.

Knowing that waiting brings change from spring and time to plant, to summer a time to tend and autumn a time to harvest. To winter and a time to rest before beginning the cycle once more. Again, again and again.  Let nature and you garden be your teacher. Knowing what is now yields to what will be.

The Tao teaches us to be gracious, asking for help when needed and giving help when it is asked.  Know to treat good and bad the same with indifference. Knowing what is now yields to what will be.  Resolve to know the Tao and know courage and security.

Let the seasons teach you cycles. Knowing cycles brings patience. The earth and sky and all in between serve to show patience to those who watch, listen and learn. The dragons are waiting. Be patient, listen and learn.

An original composition and interpretation of the Chinese Classic the I Ching   (5 WAITING / Water over Heaven). 2/6/94 The above is found on this website at The I Ching / Voices of the Dragon.

I wrote the below “Beginnings”, in January 1996 as the preface of what became a still unpublished manuscript that opened to door to what would come to define my own journey. The book became entitled “My travels with Lieh Tzu”, one of six books now (I’ve lost count).

The Book of Lieh Tzu, written more than two thousand years ago, was to become mandatory reading for Taoist precepts in Taoist monasteries over the centuries. Writing my own version was like a continual catharsis, as if the relieving or releasing of emotional tensions, especially through gaining appreciation of certain kinds of art, as tragedy or music. As if we need a benchmark, or starting point, as we begin to learn the meaning of meditation for ourselves. As if when one door closes through death of who we thought we were, the universe rushes in to get our attention to fill the vacuum. The challenge always asking are we ready? It is not something others can do for us, except maybe to help point the way forward. As if agreeing with Chuang Tzu that we never really die, only move on to new beginnings and endings needed to transcend into our highest version of ourselves simply waiting to unfold. Making room for new personas, or doors that are simply waiting for appearances sake to be opened and just maybe asked to stay.

When I wrote this, I had just finished writing my book about the I Ching and change and had lost a job that I had moved to Massachusetts to do not far from where my Italian ancestors had come more than a hundred years earlier. I thought this was where I was supposed to be, bought a house, settled in and became a master gardener in both Massachusetts and Rhode Island. But I had now gotten the dragons attention and of course they had other plans in mind.

Their idea of returning to the place of my ancestors went a little further back in time. Imprinting on me that it was not where I am, but who I am in history that is important. As if saying okay, if you wanted to return to your source, your beginnings, you can’t stop here. My interpolations of The Book of Lieh Tzu was to serve only as a reminder, perhaps an initial roadmap, as I was about to begin my own quest in earnest.

Beginnings

It is said that each of us is granted two lives, the life we learn with and the life we live after that.

To perchance awaken midstream in our lives, as if we have been re‑born; given an opportunity to find and follow our true destiny and endeavor. That our ultimate task is not only to discover who we are but where we belong in history. Is not this the ultimate challenge? To simply rise up, traveling as one with the prevailing winds. Becoming one with the angels, or dragons, as they manifest before us. Letting our spirit soar. Freeing our mind, heart, and soul to go where few dare to wander.

I know my task as a writer will be complete when my writing is as indefinable as my subject. Just as I know my task as an individual, as I exist in the here and now, will be to simply tell the stories that I have learned along the way. That we each have a story to tell. As we free ourselves of attachments and ego and baggage we have clung to as we try to find our way. That the ultimate travel is the travel of our spirit. That the ultimate giving is to share our gift with others.

To become one with the ages. To bring forth the stories, myths and legends that tell the way. To stay interested in life, as I am in reality here only for an instant before moving on.

My task only to look for constant renewal. Finally, true expression of self is in losing myself through expressing the voices of the past. That I am here to relay that the fears and hopes of humanity rest not in where we find ourselves in the here and now, but in reality, to find and reflect our inner nature waiting to be re‑discovered and built upon again and again.

That all true learning is self-learning of who we ultimately are to become. That once we have awakened so that we can see beyond ourselves, then have not we found our spirits traveling the winds through eternity. This being so, could there be a more ultimate way of travel than to be found traveling with Lieh Tzu?   1/21/96

I wrote the above more than twenty years ago on January 21, 1996 when completing my own version of The Book of Lieh Tzu after moving to Boynton Beach, Florida to become a city planner. My job was to help with the city’s master plan. In reality, it was as if I had moved to south Florida to live in paradise while addressing my own. Knowing this how could I not pursue the unknown to get to a place where the pieces, like strands of pearls that would fit onto the same thread? Life becoming the process of finding and polishing pearls of virtue and wisdom brought to the surface within myself. As if life’s experiences are only an expression of time built on those who have come before us as we ourselves endeavor to become universal.

There is a saying that all great writing is autobiographical. That ultimately, what we think, say, and in turn write is emblematic of who we have been and are yet to become. That enlightenment first begins with acknowledging our origins or beginnings, then moves to how we respond or act accordingly. Only then, can we continue on course as we find ourselves and begin to challenge what might make us feel good at the moment.

Or as Chuang Tzu would say in the Seven Inner Chapters of Chuang Tzu – The main themes of the seven chapters called the nei-p’ien that are an advocacy of creative spontaneity, the relativity of all things, transcendental knowledge, following nature, equanimity toward life and death, the usefulness of uselessness and the blessings of emptiness and non-existence.  That living in spontaneity provides the essence to change and follow the Tao.

While Lieh Tzu represented the “every day or common man”, Chuang Tzu was seen as the pivot to what would be known as the “perfected man.”  Both were representative of what was to become and define Taoism for centuries to come. Much more on both yet to come in future posts.

Great writing and art, mainly as calligraphy, flourished over time in China where your brush stroke was indicative of your own perception of the eternal and how you intertwined with what was seen as what philosophers such as Kierkegaard, famous in western philosophy centuries later, would call indefinable. How you presented the form would be just as, or more important than, what was stated. Defining what was real behind the image was as important. It would be considered tai chi at it’s best.

Most of what was attributed to Lieh Tzu is actually considered a repository for numerous authors/writers who wanted their work to be considered but feared that under their own name might have otherwise been overlooked. Some scholars even question whether Lieh Tzu even existed at all. Of course, in my humble opinion he certainly did.

 As I continue to go through my own version of Lao Tzu’s Tao Te Ching that I wrote in May/June 2000 and my book, Thoughts on becoming a Sage, The Guidebook for leading a virtuous Life, I am asked to tell… just who was this Lao Tzu and why is he so important? I know I spoke of this last time, but some may have missed so it bears repeating. Lao Tzu’s Tao Te Ching was the culmination of thousands of years of philosophical thought of what was to become Taoism thanks in part to copies found in tombs of those who were buried with copies of it in China. There are eighty-one verses in the Tao Te Ching.  Verses 50 and 51 appear below. Verses 1 through 49 were seen here on my most recent posts. The balance will be seen here over the coming months.

A partial preview can be seen on the Lao Tzu and Taoism tab here on my website. Ultimately, it is what the sage has learned and then in turn taught others along the way that guides us.

The commentaries below are meant to be read as a discussion between Lao Tzu and those interested who have thought deeply about the text itself. The quotes below and references to their authors are from Red Pine’s, Lao Tzu’s Taoteching.

Thoughts on becoming a Sage           

Verse 50 – Evolving with Ever-renewing Purpose

To the sage death is nothing more than an opportunity to return home once again. To assess his standing in the ten thousand things and be reassured that he remains no better or worse for the wear, that in the end only his eternal presence, or essence, in keeping with the Tao is insured.

Success or failure only determined by the number of lives he has touched and rather he helped others find their true way.  In coming home, he transcends all boundaries and exudes the virtue and grace of one who has been everywhere there is to be, seen all there is to see and transcended the Tao to and fro, up and down and is utterly complete.

   Cultivating his true nature his body is cast aside. As an innate knowing reminds him that once our body has been cast aside we are free to travel once again on the wind with dragons, as you are reminded of your eternal role in the universe and secret to your own longevity.  Just as in life you guarded your real purpose, you now are ready to be renewed before returning to be born again. xx

Ch’eng Chu says,

“Of the ten thousand things we all experience, none are more important than life and death. People who are cultivate the Tao are concerned with nothing except transcending these boundaries.”

Wang Pi says,

“Eels consider the depths too shallow, and eagles consider the mountains too low.  Living beyond the reach of arrows and nets, they dwell in the land of no death. But by means of bait, they are lured into the land of no life.”

Su Ch’e says,

“We know how to act but not how to rest. We know how to talk but not how to keep still. We know how to remember but not how to forget. Everything we do leads to the land of death. The sage dwells where there is neither life or death.”

Chiao Hung says,

“The sage has no life. Not because he slights it, but because he doesn’t possess it. If someone has no life, how could he be killed? Those who understand this can transcend change and can make of life and death a game.”

Verse 51 – Honoring the Way

Honoring the Way means staying true to the Way.  Staying true to the Way means remaining humble with your virtue guiding every thought, action and deed. You have taken form in this place as the essence of the Way of Virtue.

While challenges and stubbing your toe may occur, they are simply to remind you of your own personas that you are here to complete.  Your affinity to nature and the natural order of things are simply ways to express and sort through those things you are here to do. Created as an image or extension of the Way, virtue guides and instructs while being shaped by events as the Tao completes them.

Thus, all things come forward to honor the Way. Remaining transparent, your role cultivates and trains, steadies and adjusts, nurtures and protects without possessing or presuming. Without the need to control events everything reaches its fullest potential. xx

Wu Ch’ing says,

“What is begotten is sprouted in spring, what is kept is collected in fall; what is shaped is raised in summer from sprouts that were grown in the spring; what is completed is stored in the winter from the harvest in the fall. Begetting, raising, harvesting, and storing all depend of the Way and Virtue.”

Hence the ten thousand things honor the Tao as their father and glorify Virtue as their mother. The Way and Virtue are two, but also one. In spring, from one root many are begotten: the Way becomes Virtue. In fall, the many are brought back together: Virtue becomes and is also the Way.

Lu His-Sheng says,

“To beget is to bestow with essence. To keep is to instill with breath. To cultivate is the adapt to form. To train is to bring forth ability. To steady is to weigh the end. To adjust is to measure the use. To nurture is to preserve the balance. To protect is to keep from harm. This is the Great Way. It begets but does not try to possess what is begets. It acts but does not presume on what it does. It cultivates but does not try to control what it cultivates. This is ‘Dark Virtue’.

Ho-Shang Kung sys,

“The Way does not beget the myriad creatures to possess them for is own advantage. The actions of the Way do not depend on a reward. And the Way does not cultivate or nurture the myriad creatures to butcher them for profit. The kindness performed by the Way is dark and invisible.”

Wang Pi says,

“The Way is what things follow. Virtue is what they attain. ‘Dark Virtue’ man’s virtue is present, but no one knows who controls it. It comes from what is hidden.”

Number 57

June 10, 2018

Finding mountains of joy for just who we are.

From a practical perspective, there is great power in intention and how it can shape the present moment and even the future—because if you approach this present moment with wisdom, kindness, and a sense of responsibility, you won’t have to worry about the future. It will take care of itself.

This sense of commonality to and with nature that seems to permeate Eastern philosophy, especially from Buddhism and Taoism, expresses the idea I like to call, “from where we are doing it from”, i.e., as if living our lives above it all with abundance and joy.

I am inspired this week by the song “True Colors” by Cindy Lauper and the lines:

And I’ll see your true colors
Shining through
I see your true colors
I see your true colors
So don’t be afraid to let them show
Your true colors
True colors are beautiful
Like a rainbow.

One of the anthems of the LGBTQ community, Lauper’s authenticity to be true to our “souls consciousness” sings true. One does not have to be this way to respect another’s choice to be so. We ultimately teach others through our own acceptance and actions by treating others as we want to be treated ourselves. Nature and the Tao also teaches us that we are all equal in the eyes of the universe. Fitting because a rainbow represents all colors as one. It is standing for what is right that ultimately gives each of us strength to become empowered to become our true selves. It is in this way we break the bonds of doubting our own self-worth and we learn that nothing separates us from God, and the Tao. Or as if adding lyrics to the Beatles song in Two of Us, “We are simply rainbows on our way back home”.

I am especially inspired this week by the song “Ain’t no mountain high enough ain’t no valley low enough to keep me from loving you” sung by Marvin Gaye and Diana Ross. Mountains are here to climb and in seeing the other side we discover the panorama of life, of heaven and earth, and our place in it all. Why be afraid of the unknown when it is this that makes us complete? Who are we to get in the way of another’s joy?

Finding Joy

 As with all things that must know their way, leaving things undone due to flights of fancy can lead to one’s undoing. Learn from your mistakes and know that what has come will come again.

Be patient, know and understand that staying close to the Tao keeps one protected. Stray and bad things can occur. Find purpose and meaning in what you do and what needs done will get done. Both good and bad are the same. However, knowing the outcome leads one to know the way of virtue.

Accept faults and accept the true fate. Once admitted you are accepted again. Remember what is now taken for granted and loosely kept can easily be taken back again.

What is fundamental is that the eternal oneness of all things will change.  Yin become yang. Yang becomes yin. Leaving things undone opens chi to the unknown. Letting nature find its course leads one to finding the joy in all things.

An original composition and interpretation of the Chinese Classic the I Ching  (5 WAITING / Water over Heaven). 2/6/94 The above is found on this website at The I Ching / Voices of the Dragon.

It has always been the need to see beyond simply language and words to the ethereal, to be closer and ultimately one with the Tao, or God. In China, it was the mountains where one could go to attempt to see beyond what could be explained into the horizon.

In America, it was the sacredness of the Black Hills of the Dakotas, the Appalachian Trail, the Great Smoky Mountains and Daniel Boone, and the travels of Lewis and Clark over the continental divide over uncharted mountains and rivers westward to the Pacific that has always intrigued me. As if there is an unconscious knowing and something more than imagination reminding us that, yes, we were there too.

But it was the sacred and historical context and connections to mountains in China over an extended period, that I most drawn to and find most appealing. It is truly as if you are facing forward while looking back.

It is this link with and to nature and creation that triggers the ultimate connection with and to our source. That it is in the remembering we forget what diminishes us. As if the sameness of everything, meant it could return just as easily as something else. It is as if by design it is meant to be forever indefinable… it is Tao. To the Taoist and the acknowledgment of the “ten thousand things” (of which you are only one of many), you can begin to understand the universal nature of God and you.

In China, many have even gone so far as to reside here, on a mountain as what are called a “hermit”. Abandoning the ways of the world, to move beyond earthly cares to simply become one with it all. To a place where it becomes easy to find and become reclusive. Surely not meant for everyone, as if ultimately defining joy only for oneself. Well my friends it’s hard to imagine. Someday after I’ve gone missing the likely responsible suspects of where I might be found may happen to lie below. Ah, the paradox of every sage. In my heart I’m already there… as if I never left. As if found roaming the sky with dragons only stopping to catch my breath on top of mountains. Except to come down seeking others who need only encouragement to join us. All that is required is we, as Cindy Lauper said… see our true colors shining through and become them.

My favorite, of course, is Qingcheng Mountain north of Chengdu, one of the most revered Taoist holy mountains.

Historically through the millennia, it has been the ability to rise above the clouds with your feet still firmly planted on the ground that enables us to converse with the eternal.   To live or to be moving into the state of becoming who we are meant to be that has always been our primary purpose.

Like the words in the song Forever Young… May you build a ladder to the stars and climb onto every rung. May you stay forever young.

The Sacred Mountains of China are divided into several groups and were the subjects of pilgrimage by emperors and commoners alike throughout in Chinese history and dynasties. They are associated with the supreme God of Heaven and the five main cosmic deities of Chinese traditional religion. The group associated with Buddhism is referred to as the Four Sacred Mountains of Buddhism and those associated with Taoism are referred to as the Four Sacred Mountains of Taoism, although those making the list seems to depend on the author. For myself the list can easily be expanded to six depending on personal preference. Three of which I have been to, the remaining three are on my bucket list…

Six sacred mountains of Taoism:

1)     Wudang Shan in the northwestern part of Hubei. For myself a highlight is the Crown Prince’s Hall at the highest point of the Fuzhen Temple (Revelation Temple) complex. If you are a kung fu enthusiast, Taizipo is also home to The Eight Immortal Temple because tai chi gets all the credit for Wudang’s martial arts. Its sometimes easy to forget the mountain is home to many other forms as well, including ones that use weapons.

Wudang derives its name from the Five Dragon Palace. Once a bustling area of Taoist temples, it was long the area known for cultivating the most accomplished Taoist priests. Unfortunately, it is also the area whose temples, halls, and palaces have undergone the most destruction. That being said, it is still a particularly scenic area and is the only place on the mountain that has a forest reserve. The cliffs here are quite spectacular, too. The Wudang Mountains are renowned for the practice of tai chi and Taoism as the Taoist counterpart to the Shaolin Monastery, which is affiliated with Chinese Chan Buddhism.

2)     Longhu Shan literally “Dragon and Tiger” in Jiangxi Province. The  Lónghyiǔ Shān scenic area encompasses 200 sq km, most of which is located along the eastern bank of the Lúxī River.

It is particularly important to the Zhengyi Dao as it is the home of the Shangqing Temple and the Mansion of the Taoist Master that are located here. The temples in Shangqing are mentioned in the beginning of the famous Chinese novel “Outlaws of the Marsh”.

3)     Qiyun Shan literally “Cloud-High Mountain”, in Anhui. Mount Qiyun is a mountain and national park located in Xiuning County in Anhui Province, China and is noted for its numerous inscriptions and tablets, as well as monasteries and temples. Through Chinese history, Chinese poets and writers including Li Bai, Tang Yin and Yu Dafu have visited Mount Qiyun either to compose poetry or to leave an inscription. I visited here in October 2016 and climbed to the summit; it is one of my favorite spots in China.

4)     Qingcheng Shan literally “Misty Green City Wall”; (Nearby city: Dujiangyan in Sichuan. In ancient Chinese history, the Mount Qingcheng area was famous for being for “The most secluded place in China”. I came to Qingcheng in June 2015 and I am anxious the return. It is famous as a Taoist retreat over the centuries and has some of the greatest vistas of mountains anywhere. It is easy to see why the theme of getting back to nature and how closeness to the Tao and God are transposed into one’s persona as once having been there makes it difficult to leave.

5)      Hua Shan’s four major peaks, that are capped with ancient temples that have been the site of prayer and sacrifice since at least the period of emperor Qin Shi Huang in 200 B.C.  Famous because Lao Tzu was supposed to have resided there for a while, and number one on my bucket list to visit.

The chess pavilion, from the top of the East peak

Once called the West Mountain in ancient times it is noted for very steep and narrow trails.  East Peak (also called the Morning Sun Peak), is the best place to see the sunrise; West Peak (also called the Lotus Flower Peak), because of a large flower shaped rock which stands in front of Cuiyun Temple; the central Peak (also called the Jade Lady Peak).

Legend has it that the daughter of the King Mu lived here; South Peak (also called the Wild Goose-resting Peak), towers over all other peaks on the mountains and is covered by pines and cypresses; and North Peak (also called the Cloudy Terrace Peak). From a distance, these five peaks look like a lotus flower among the mountains, hence the name of Huashan.

6)    Tai Shan in Shandong. Perhaps saving the best for last, Mount Tai Shan is the one I am most familiar with having been there many times. It is the most famous Taoist mountain in China because being furthest to the east, it is where from its summit you can be the first to see the sun rise to the east. For over a thousand-year tradition required the emperor to make a pilgrimage to Tai Shan on his return to Beijing after visiting Qufu and paying homage to Confucius.

At the base of the mountain is the Daimiao Temple. One of my favorite points of interest is the ‘Peitian Gate’. It is an excellent example of how Confucian and Taoist thought resided and complemented each other over the centuries.

The stele, or entryway had a saying with the theme,” The virtues match the heaven and earth”. It highlighted the ‘Azure Dragon’ and ‘White Tiger’, two of the principal symbols of the Chinese constellation that were enshrined in the hall.

As I continue to go through my own version of Lao Tzu’s Tao Te Ching that I wrote in May/June 2000 and my book, Thoughts on becoming a Sage, The Guidebook for leading a virtuous Life, I am asked to tell… just who was this Lao Tzu and why is he so important? I know I spoke of this last time, but some may have missed so it bears repeating. Lao Tzu’s Tao Te Ching was the culmination of thousands of years of philosophical thought of what was to become Taoism thanks in part to copies found in tombs of those who were buried with copies of it in China. There are eighty-one verses in the Tao Te Ching.  Verses 52 and 53 appear below. Verses 1 through 51 were seen here on my most recent posts. The balance will be seen here over the coming months.

A partial preview can be seen on the Lao Tzu and Taoism tab here on my website. Ultimately, it is what the sage has learned and then in turn taught others along the way that guides us.

The commentaries below are meant to be read as a discussion between Lao Tzu and those interested who have thought deeply about the text itself. The quotes below and references to their authors are from Red Pine’s, Lao Tzu’s Taoteching.

 Thoughts on becoming a Sage

 Verse 52 – When our Virtue becomes us

 When the ten thousand things came forth in the world, they did so as offspring of a great mother.

When you know this mother, you can begin to understand her offspring understand the child and its mother becomes secure and. lives without trouble.  Begin to focus on the Tao with the path you must take becoming clear and this mother will nurture you forever.

When we block the opening from that outside ourselves and close the gate to those who would bring us misfortune, we can live without toil or struggle. When we leave the opening unprotected and meddle in affairs outside of what the way teaches us, we live without hope.

When we follow the words of Confucius when he reminds us that just as things have their roots and branches, those that know what comes first and last may approach the Tao.

When we understand what motivates those around us and events when they are small, we can be quick to change our behavior and magnify our vision.

When we learn to trust our vision, we can see beyond ourselves and live beyond our death. When we live beyond our death, we can become free to travel the universe with the dragons as our virtue becomes us.

Li His-Chai says,

“The Way is the mother of all things. Things are the children of the Way. In ancient times, those who possessed the Way were able to keep mother and children from parting and the Way and things together. Since things come from the Way, they are no different from the Way, just as children are no different from their mother. And yet people abandon things when they search for the Way. Is this any different from abandoning the children while searching for the mother? If people knew that things are the Way, and children are the mother, they would find the source in everything they meet.”

Confucius says,

“Things have their roots and branches. Those know what comes first and last approach the Tao (Tahsueh: intro).”

Tung Ssu-Ching says,

“People are born when they receive breath. Breath is their mother. And spirit dwells in their breath. When children care for their mother, their breaths become one and their spirits become still.”

Hsuan-Tsung says,

“If someone can see an event while it is still small and can change his behavior, we say he has vision.”

Verse 53 – Gently guiding Others

 Slow down and let your virtue lead the way. Stay fixed to the Great Way not letting distractions lead you astray. Stay focused on doing nothing and do everything simply with that you have learned by following the Tao.

Just as others look to you for direction, you must first gather them up like laundry, put them in the same basket, wash and dry them, then sort them in an orderly fashion.  Folded and put away they await their turn to come to the forefront for all to see.

Instead of pushing certain things to happen, sit back and let your nature gently guide those around you. Instead of being in such a hurry, taking shortcuts and finding nothing but trouble, let events play themselves out. While the sage remains ahead by staying behind, his only concern is leading people down such a path.

However, as events play themselves out, he remains always ready to show the next step along the way.

Ku His-Ch’ou says,

“The Tao is not hard to know, but it is hard to follow.”

Ho-Shang Kung says,

“Lao Tzu was concerned that rulers of his day did not follow the Great Way. Hence, he hypothesized that if he knew enough to conduct the affairs of a country, he would follow the Great Way and devote himself to implementing the policy of doing nothing.”

Lu Hsi-Sheng says,

“The Great Way is like a grand thoroughfare: smooth and easy to travel, perfectly straight and free of detours, and there is nowhere it doesn’t lead. But people are in a hurry. They take short cuts and get into trouble and become lost and don’t reach their destination. The sage only worries about leading people down the wrong path.”

Sung Ch’ang-Hsing says,

“When the court ignores the affairs of state to beautify its halls and interrupts farm work to build towers and pavilions, the people’s energy ends up at court, and fields turn to weeds. Once fields turn to weeds, state taxes are not paid, and granaries become empty. And once granaries are empty, the country becomes poor, and the people become rebellious. When the court dazzles the people with fine clothes, and threatens people with sharp swords, and takes from the people more that it needs, this is no different than robbing them.”

Number 58

June 22, 2018

Living beyond illusion… Can we simply be an allegory of ourselves?

Ho Shang Kung says,

“We cultivate the Tao in ourselves by cherishing our breath and by nourishing our spirit and thus by prolonging our life.

We cultivate the Tao in the family by being loving as a parent, filial as a child, kind as an elder, obedient as the younger, dependable as a husband, and chaste as a wife. We cultivate the Tao in the village by honoring the aged and caring for the young, by teaching the benighted and instructing the perverse. We cultivate the Tao in the state by being honest as an official and loyal as an aide. We cultivate the Tao in the world by letting things change without giving orders. Lao Tzu asks how we know that those who cultivate the Tao prosper and those who ignore the Tao perish. We know by comparing those who don’t cultivate the Tao with those who do.”

What is an allegory but a representation of an abstract or spiritual meaning through concrete or material forms; as if, through our mind’s eye it must be the real thing. Perhaps even as a metaphor used to suggest a resemblance with something else. With the adage seeing is believing is the real thing. It’s what great writing does in taking us there. For me it is as the sage with my best times remembered as the dragon as intoned by the ancients. To give figurative treatment of one subject under the guise, or semblance, of another. As if our highest endeavor can only be found as our true selves above the clouds – again.  As we use ourselves as the symbolical narrative in telling the story that conveys even our own ultimate destiny. As if in living each day can we know what is real or something we imagined and even question if it can really even have mattered in the end.

If nothing more, it helps or guides us to find a place we may not have otherwise known asking if we were really present, or just acting as some semblance of ourselves. Or as in that old Lone Ranger episode we watched as kids all those years ago, often the only question remaining was “who was that masked man?” As if he too was only an allegory simply chasing after his own highest endeavor and destiny. In the end until the next episode always saying, “Hi Ho Silver… away”. But aren’t we all simply re-defining who we are meant to become.

Keeping with “My Travels with Lieh Tzu”, something I wrote many years ago seems to fit the universal nature we all eventually find and embrace.  The below entry seems to fit the times.

Changing Clothes

Forever reaching for the next rung on the ladder that must be followed. Beyond earthly endeavors. Attachments strewn about like dirty clothes waiting for their place in the right laundry basket.

One’s life simply the process of cleaning the clothes previously worn that must be recycled over and over again. To be constantly reborn. Anything that is seen of paramount importance only a test to be mailed in after you have found and corrected your own mistakes.

Outcomes only determined by lessons learned with only yourself checking and knowing the right answers. Mistakes although constantly repeated. Leading only to an eternity of self‑fulfilling prophecies of our own unwillingness to follow the ultimate path we know must be taken.

Finding the courage to change. Leaving behind patterns filled with adversity we have come to know as a life support. Forever keeping us down as a one-thousand-pound weight around our shoulders. Continually given the eternal chance to change. To keep living until we get it right as we live and die simply by letting go.

Finally finding the ladder. Cautious steps of optimism leading to places previously unheard of and unseen.  Knowing that eternal truth lies only in the steps that must be followed. Never looking back, thereby losing your balance the constant order of the day.

Be forever the agent of change. Knowing that the content found by others with everything as it remains is not the way things ultimately will be. Remaining forever unattached, letting go and finding yourself in clothes that are eternally clean.     12/30/94

What is the purpose of seeing things in allegorical terms, except to take or see things beyond the norm, or how we see ourselves in context with what cannot be seen or perhaps even known. Questioning what we think is given as a premise for what we believe is true. Great writing has always done this. As a literary device, an allegory is a metaphor in which a character, place or event is used to deliver a broader message about real-world issues and occurrences. Allegory has occurred widely throughout history in all forms of art, largely because it can readily illustrate or convey complex ideas and concepts in ways that are comprehensible or striking to its viewers, readers, or listeners.

An example can be seen in the poem ‘Harlem’ about the African American experience during the first half of the 20th century, Langston Hughes (February 1, 1902 – May 22, 1967) uses objects like ‘a raisin in the sun’ and a ‘festering sore’ to describe what he thinks happens when dreams are put off or deferred. The images are powerful because they give a memorable and concrete idea of the ill effects of unrealized dreams. Writers, like Langston Hughes, frequently feature symbolism in their work, using an object, person, animal or even color to stand in for an abstract idea. His poetry and fiction portrayed the lives of the working-class blacks in America, lives he portrayed as full of struggle, joy, laughter, and music. Hughes was from Joplin, Missouri where I grew up, but lived many places in his professional life, mainly in New York.

It is said that measuring the stature of great men by the yardstick of the small is difficult at best.  As if raising the bar never becomes too much to expect as we become guided by our peers, our becoming worthy of what I like to refer to as dragons. Almost to the point of saying… are we asking too much of ourselves and those around us to have that mountaintop experience. For the Taoist and Lao Tzu, the answer can only lie in “are we being true to ourselves”. For the sage the question becomes in seeing beyond our feeble ego, we see a world that nature provides as it asks “are we to make the most of it.” I always liked Hughes writing because he saw beyond what was a given, to what could become real if only we could see it in ourselves, perhaps if only in our dreams.

Finding the perfect segue for what comes next is a challenge, in that it presupposes a leap of faith to what I call the storyteller’s dilemma. It’s not simply telling the story but becoming the story as well. To be outside the limitations living brings you to allow others to see themselves in the story as participants. You don’t simply tell the story of dragons resting on clouds in the sky. You become one with the dragons, beyond earthly endeavors where much is expected and appreciation for how far you’ve come has been acknowledged and you are humbled as you take your next step. For thousands of years the shaman perfected and prepared others for the journey. Some got it as if innately knowing the next step, others never did.

One must have Merit.

To be one with dragons requires great strength and demands discipline. Leadership requires courage based simply on merit. A cause pursued for or by dragons must be pursued with merit.  If not, the cause must be abandoned.

Arise from obscurity and retirement. Find your place in the Tao and find a oneness with the universe. Requests from Heaven are difficult to comprehend on both land and water.

Without strength, the most sincere and righteous cause will not prevail. Find patience and your inner chi, or breath, and you will find strength. Find strength in the Tao and you will come to know dragons in the sky.

Once merit is found discipline can follow. Finding courage brings respect from friends and neighbors.

To find balance and harmony one must be worthy of dragons. To be one with dragons one must have merit to be seen dancing on clouds in the sky.

An original composition and interpretation of the Chinese Classic the I Ching (7 THE ARMY / Earth over Water). 2/8/94   The above is found on this website at The I Ching / Voices of the Dragon.

Another common use of allegory in language is what is called the parable.

Described as a short allegorical story designed to illustrate or teach some truth, religious principle, or moral lesson. Usually, a statement or comment that conveys a meaning indirectly by the use of comparison, analogy, or the like. One of the most famous in Chinese Taoist history is attributed to the Chinese philosopher Zhuangzi (Chuang Tzu) (369 BC to 286 BC), and the story of the butterfly dream, which serves as an articulation of Taoism’s challenge toward definitions of reality vs. illusion. The story, as translated by Lin Yutang, goes like this:

“Once upon a time, I, Zhuangzi, dreamt I was a butterfly, fluttering hither and thither, to all intents and purposes a butterfly. I was conscious only of my happiness as a butterfly, unaware that I was Zhuangzi. Soon I awakened, and there I was, veritably myself again. Now I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly, dreaming I am a man. Between a man and a butterfly there is necessarily a distinction. The transition is called transformation of material things.”

This short story points to a number of interesting and much-explored philosophical issues, stemming from the relationship between the waking-state and the dream-state, and/or between illusion and reality: How do we know when we’re dreaming, and when we’re awake?

How do we know if what we’re perceiving is “real” or a mere “illusion” or “fantasy”? Is the “me” of various dream-characters the same as or different from the “me” of my waking world? How do I know, when I experience something, I call “waking up,” that it is actually a waking up to “reality” as opposed to simply waking up into another level of dream? Or as Langston Hughes I think would remind us… that when awakened from the dream of our current state of affairs, we should be ready to move beyond the dream to the reality of to as he says, fixing the broken wing and being prepared to fly to what is awaiting us.

I have read and written about Chuang Tzu’s butterfly dream for more than twenty years. One of my favorite descriptions is Robert Allison’s “Chuang-tzu for Spiritual Transformation”. Employing the language of western philosophy, Robert Allison, in his book Chuang Tzu for Spiritual Transformation: An Analysis of the Inner Chapters (New York: SUNY Press, 1989), presents a number of possible interpretations of Chuang-tzu’s Butterfly Dream parable, and then offers his own, in which he interprets the story as a metaphor for spiritual awakening.

In support of this argument, Mr. Allison also presents a less well-known passage from the Chuang-tzu, known as the Great Sage Dream anecdote. In this analysis rare echoes of Advaita Vedanta’s Yoga Vasistha, and it also brings to mind also the tradition of Zen koans as well as Buddhist “valid cognition” reasonings.

It also reminds one of the works of Wei Wu Wei who, like Mr. Allison, uses the conceptual tools of western philosophy to present the ideas and insights of the nondual eastern traditions. Mr. Allison begins his exploration of Chuang-tzu’s Butterfly Dream anecdote by presenting two frequently used interpretive frameworks: (1) the “confusion hypothesis” and (2) the “endless (external) transformation hypothesis.” For myself, it is the “endless transformation” each of us endeavor to travel that is most intriguing and worth following.

As I continue to go through my own version of Lao Tzu’s Tao Te Ching that I wrote in May/June 2000 and my book, Thoughts on becoming a Sage, The Guidebook for leading a virtuous Life, I am asked to tell… just who was this Lao Tzu and why is he so important? I know I spoke of this last time, but some may have missed so it bears repeating. Lao Tzu’s Tao Te Ching was the culmination of thousands of years of philosophical thought of what was to become Taoism thanks in part to copies found in tombs of those who were buried with copies of it in China. There are eighty-one verses in the Tao Te Ching.  Verses 54 and 55 appear below. Verses 1 through 53 were seen here on my most recent posts. The balance will be seen here over the coming months.

A partial preview can be seen on the Lao Tzu and Taoism tab here on my website. Ultimately, it is what the sage has learned and then in turn taught others along the way that guides us.

The commentaries below are meant to be read as a discussion between Lao Tzu and those interested who have thought deeply about the text itself. The quotes below and references to their authors are from Red Pine’s, Lao Tzu’s Taoteching.

Thoughts on becoming a Sage

Verse 54 – While cultivating his garden the world comes forth to meet the Sage

What is this thing called virtue and this personal quest we each must come to know? Where does virtue begin and how does it grow and manifest to guide us once we see ourselves in the Tao?  Once found, how do we let our virtue transcend our everyday desires so that we may see beyond ourselves to discover our rightful place in the universe?

To the sage the world reaches no further than his garden. He remains guided by planting things right so they cannot be uprooted and knowing what is nurtured cannot be ripped away.  He cultivates his garden as if tending his virtue.  He then cultivates others by reaching out to bequeath what is noble, pure and found only in the Tao.

Cultivating ourselves our virtue becomes real, cultivated in our family it multiplies, in the place we live virtue only increases and we prosper.  In the world virtue thus expanding everywhere.

In both perceived beginnings and endings, the sage looks no further than within himself. Staying completely still, within his true self the world comes forth to emulate him.

Wu Ch’eng says,

“Those who plant it right, plant without planting. Thus, it is never uprooted. Those who hold it right, hold without holding. Thus, it is never ripped away.”

Wang An-Shih says,

“What we plant right is virtue. What we hold right is oneness. When virtue flourishes, distant generations give praise.”

Sung Ch’ang-Hsing says,

“In ancient times, ancestral worship consisted in choosing an auspicious day before the full moon, in fasting, in selecting sacrificial animals, in purifying ritual vessels, in preparing a feast on the appointed day, in venerating ancestors as if they were present, and in thanking them for their virtuous example. Those who cultivate the Way likewise enable future generations to enjoy the fruits of the cultivation.”

Yen Tsun says,

“Let your body be the yardstick of other bodies. Let your family be the level of other families. Let your village be the square of other villages. Let your state be the plumb line of other states. As for the world, the ruler is its heart, and the world is his body.”

Verse 55 – Gaining a firm grip on lasting Abundance.

What does it mean to have lasting abundance when we leave our virtue behind?  How can we be full of breath, yet not know how to make our breath endure? If our essence remains within us, why does our virility stand in the way?

When you become simply an extension of the Tao, you go as if mindless through your endeavors. Without a mind, you have no thoughts or desires. You proceed fearless unaware of what may harm you or that you could possibly harm another.

Once you become aware that you are a part of something bigger than yourself and have a firm grip on the direction you must take, only then can you begin to focus your mind and cultivate the Tao. When your mind does not stray and a certain serenity surrounds you, then your breath can become balanced.

The sage focuses on his breath because when it becomes balanced his essence is stable, his spirit serene and his true nature is restored.

Controlling his breath, he endures and finds his true nature. Understanding his true nature, he is able to impart wisdom to others. He becomes unconcerned and extending his life as his spirit is uncluttered and has already rediscovered its place in what has been what may occur now and where he will spend eternity.  The sage has no fear of death because he knows his essence, or spirit, remains eternal.xx

Wang P’ang says,

“The nature of virtue is lasting abundance. But its abundance fades with the onset of thoughts and desires.”

Te-Ch’ing says,

“Those who cultivate the Tao should first focus their minds. When the mind doesn’t stray, it becomes calm. When the mind becomes calm, breath becomes balanced. When breath becomes balanced, essence becomes stable, spirit becomes serene, and our true nature becomes restored. Once we know how to breathe, we know how to endure. And once we know how to endure, we know our true nature. If we don’t know our true nature but only know how to nourish our body and lengthen our lives, we end up harming our body and destroying our lives. A restless mind disturbs the breath. When the breath is disturbed, the essence weakens. And when the essence weakens, the body withers.”

Hsun-Tzu says,

“Everything must breathe to live. When we know how to breathe, we know how to nurture life and how to endure”.

Sung Ch’ang says,

“The basis of life rests on this breath. If someone can nourish the pure and balanced breath within himself for fifteen minutes, he will discover the principal of Heaven and Earth’s immortality. If he can do this for half an hour, he will gain the gate of eternity. But if he tries to extend his life or force his breath, he will create the womb of his destruction.”

Mou-Tzu says,

“Those who attain the Way don’t become active and don’t become strong. They don’t become strong and they don’t become old. They don’t become old and don’t become ill. They don’t become ill and don’t decay. Thus, Lao Tzu calls the body a disaster” (32).