One morning, many years ago, I spent the early hours reading one of the many translations of Taoism's primary Scripture of the Way, the Tao Te Ching. It was immediately accessible and provided interesting moral and intellectual instruction.
When reading sacred texts, the seeking soul knows when it has found truth. The receptive mind knows that the source's religious or human assigned origin is irrelevant. We are wired for the truth and when we hear it, we know it.
Just as the Chinese use three cornerstones – Taoism, Buddhism, and Confucianism – as a foundation from which to draw wisdom and practical guidance, I have learned that harmoniously incorporating other philosophies and sacred teachings builds, reinforces, and strengthens my own interior life.
Truth is self-evident and transcends all boundaries. It stands on its own, addressing the fragile human condition clearly and directly, but with humility and tenderness.
Truth reassures all is well.
Let go and be.
Empty your Self and be new in each moment.
This is so simple that it is surprising how often we need to be reminded, even long after we already learned and embraced this life-saving spiritual teaching.
As I began studying Taoism, I found myself pendulating between how simple the Tao is and how deep it is. In short, it simply is and it guides us to simply be.
However, delving from its simple core into its deep peripherals, the Tao begins to reveal intricacies that are as elusive as they are clear. It is this particular kind of seemingly paradoxical representation of truth that is characteristic of timeless messages born from so deep within man, that one might think they have mercifully come from another realm to compassionately guide and refine us.
The Tao Te Ching is like a how-to book directly from the cosmos. I like to think it was perhaps delivered by the same cranes and dragons that deliver immortal humans to their mountain sanctuaries in the ancient stories from this same time and the same part of the world. The text seems sent to help us raise our consciousness and help us transcend this mundane and at times disorienting existence.
I see the Tao as serving as a sort of metaphorical stairway between heaven and earth, emphasizing compassion, moderation, and humility and in this way facilitating our peaceful integration into all that is. The Tao Te Ching addresses the daily challenges of this existence and offers gentle guidance.
One day after sharing The Story of the Taoist Farmer - which you can read below - a friend remarked with surprise and amusement, but also a sense of genuine realization, that he might be a Taoist. He'd embraced the yin and yang philosophy, without naming it, since going through metaphysical training forty years ago. His central belief - that the assignment of "good and bad," "right and wrong" is detrimental and robs us of our peace and ability to flow effortlessly with the natural course of life - is in fact, at the heart of this philosophy he knew so little about, but to which he has always related.
The Tao immediately appeals to the peace seeker, the one that simply wants to be and understands the need to let all else, and all others, be. The Way has no interest in controlling nature or humanity. In fact, it teaches that opposites in the world are in their essence complementary, natural, and necessary.
Because of Taoism's long history and broad inclusion of ideas, it is clear that the Taoist cannot easily be confined to a narrow definition, but it seems the true Taoist is obviously more than just a product of philosophy or religion. He is the living Tao.
The Taoist does not merely adhere to a set of rules or blindly follow religious rituals. His perception and ensuing "action by non-action" - or Wu Wei - are imprinted by the Tao as if it has left an indelible mark on his soul. By accepting what is, he simply is.
Taoists believe the Way manifested itself in its author Lao Tzu which prefigures and prepares the Way for the Christian understanding of Jesus as Logos, as God Himself when He declares, "I am the Way, the Truth and the Life."
In order to give life to sacred texts, and to properly convey the truth that the sacred texts express, there must be credible, living human manifestations that demonstrate what is being described. For example, when Jesus explained, "By this shall all men know that you are my disciples if you have love for one another." he taught us that our love becomes an expression of what is being taught.
Having spiritual role models to follow and emulate, inspires hope, devotion, and commitment that, in turn, gives us the ability to attain, emit, and spread peace and calm acceptance regardless of circumstances.
The only way then to intimately experience and reflect the Tao is to live it. Our entire being, and everyone around us, is best served when we are open and ready to receive so that the truth can be awoken within us, and in turn flow outward towards others through our actions and non-actions.
The Tao is not merely about knowing. It is about being wise. The Taoist sees the human body as one single organism in which, as James Miller put it in his book Daoism: A Short Introduction, “mental, emotional, and physical activities take place in constant interaction with each other.” He adds, “Wisdom means knowing how to act, (or not to act), and acting will make us wise.”
The Taoist, perhaps seen as seemingly weak and submissive by Western standards, is in fact very powerful. My Taoist teacher said, "seemingly yielding is the secret of enormous and unstoppable power." Whether in maintaining the human body, mind, and spirit, or the engineering of a boat, the Taoist knows that by cutting down on conflict and friction and harmonizing himself with the natural flow of all obstacles, less energy is expended and in turn power and efficiency are maintained and increased.
In very simple terms, let go. Stop holding on to whatever is blocking, dragging, and wearing you down, and you will have the chance to stop expending energy and begin recharging.
The Tao Te Ching tells us "Man imitates earth." Miller says that Taoists "seek out natural spaces that they sense resonate with or amplify the body’s own energy systems" and so it seems befitting and wise of Taoists to spend time on mountains, in caves, and near water.
There they can gather energy, inspiration, and ways of emulating the natural world so that when they return to man's physically and mentally constructed world, they have a means of extending the powerful and perfectly designed forces of nature into all areas of their being.
Some challenges are difficult to immediately resolve because of their deeply embedded roots and the way they have become intricately woven into our minds. Even with the right attitude and effort, these might need time to be processed and then eventually shed. But some challenges, like guilt, anger, loss, and betrayal, when reframed, can quickly be abandoned.
While you still might carry around the heavier burdens, at least the unnecessary ones will have been dropped like sandbags from a hot air balloon, allowing you to rise above your circumstances and gain proper perspective.
If you are facing challenging emotions and you are tired of the struggle, consider spending more time in nature. Take a walk in the woods, lie out in the sun, spend time strolling the beach, or visit a park. Wherever you live, there is a patch of unspoiled earth somewhere. Find it. Take deep breaths, meditate, pray, and contemplate. Or do nothing. Those processes will occur naturally if you are patient.
Just be while taking in the sounds and smells, quietly and passively aligning yourself with everything around you. By observing, with all your senses, nature's seamless way of interacting harmoniously with everything else, you may, without any effort, be led to step outside your busy and burdened mind and become one with your soul's real home. You may realize that all is well and very naturally let go of, if not all, some of the weights that are holding you down and keeping you from seeing things as they really are.
The Taoist Farmer
There was a farmer whose horse ran away. That evening the neighbors gathered to commiserate with him since this was such bad luck. He said, “May be.” The next day the horse returned but brought with it six wild horses, and the neighbors came exclaiming at his good fortune. He said, “May be.” And then, the following day, his son tried to saddle and ride one of the wild horses, was thrown, and broke his leg. Again the neighbors came to offer their sympathy for the misfortune. He said, “May be.” The day after that, conscription officers came to the village to seize young men for the army, but because of the broken leg the farmer’s son was rejected. When the neighbors came in to say how fortunately everything had turned out, he said, “May be.”
Source: Tao: The Watercourse Way, by Alan Watts
References
Miller, J. (2003). Daoism: A Short Introduction. Oxford: Oneworld Publications
Mitchell, S. (1988). Tao Te Ching. New York, NY: HarperPerennial