Tao te Ching: 52

There was a beginning of the universe
Which may be called the Mother of the Universe.
He who has found the mother (Tao)
And thereby understands her sons (things)
And having understood the sons,
Still keeps to its mother,
Will be free from danger throughout his lifetime.
Close the mouth
Shut the doors (of cunning and desire),
And to the end of life there will be (peace) without toil.
Open the mouth.
Meddle with affairs,
And to the end of life there will be no salvation.
Seeking what is small is called enlightenment.
Keeping to weakness is called strength.
Use the light.
Revert to enlightenment,
And thereby avoid danger to one's life–
This is called practicing the eternal.

Again, a cautionary tale. Each one is slightly different but they all hit on the same topics: the one, the two, the three, and the ten thousand. Practice hsü. Rule with wu-wei. What is most interesting to me is that it says keep to the light and revert to enlightenment.

Reversion is the action of Tao, so if we stop trying, we become enlightened. It is only by struggling and not following Tao that we are not enlightened.

How odd, then for a philosophy that says to keep to the black and not the white, to advocate the light. We equate white and light today, but this puts me in the mind of space in a way. Let the Tao be your star. A guide home.

Tao te Ching: 51

Tao produces them (the ten thousand things).
Virtue fosters them.
Matter gives them physical form.
The circumstances and tendencies complete them.
Therefore the ten thousand things esteem Tao and honor virtue.
Tao is esteemed and virtue is honored without anyone's order.
They always come spontaneously.
Therefore Tao produces them and virtue fosters them.
They rear them and develop them.
They give them security and give them peace.
They nurture them and protect them.
(Tao) produces them but does not take possession of them.
It acts, but it does not rely on its own ability.
It leads them but does not master them.
This is called the profound and secret virtue.

And now we return to hsüan-te, the profound and secret virtue from Chapter 10. This is the mysterious and secret virtue that has Tao inherent in it. The one produces the two, the two produce the three, and the three produce the ten thousand things. Yet, these ten thousand things do not exist on their own nor as a collective. These ten thousand things are us, the animals, plants, everything we can point to and many things we can't.

These ten thousand things are from Tao, and te (virtue) fosters them. What does it mean that virtue fosters them? It means that it allows them to grow. And they do grow. Why is it virtue? Because it is the thing that proceeds from Tao without being named. The great virtue and the specific virtue. Quiddity and haecceity. This was in Chapter 21, and is opposed to the cultivated virtue of Confucianism and other systems that attempt to find te because they do not follow Tao.

This chapter reminds that hsüan-te is not one of the ten thousand things, but rather more of it and a part of all of them. It reminds us that Tao and te are not matter on their own, and that they do not have matter except through the ten thousand things.

Tao te Ching: 50

Man comes into life and goes out to death.
Three out of ten are companions of life.
Three out of ten are companions of death.
And three out of ten in their lives lead from activity to death.
And for what reason?
Because of man's intensive striving after life.
I have heard that one who is a good preserver of life will
not meet tigers or wild buffalos.
And in fighting will not try to escape from weapons of war.
The wild buffalo cannot but its horns against him,
The tiger cannot fasten its claws in him,
And weapons of war cannot thrust their blades into him.
And for what reason?
Because in him there is no room for death.

Han Fei Tzu had an interesting thought about this, not so much that the translation was three of ten but three and ten. Thirteen, which is the number of the four limbs and the nine external cavities. There is more about that in Han Fei Tzu's work.

If it's three of ten, then Lao Tzu seems to be missing one in there somewhere. Perhaps that one is the one he is speaking of: the good preserver of life.

This seems to be rooted in the same segments as the non-violence protocols of the Buddhists. Do not harm, do what is best for life and life will do what you need. I'm somewhat baffled by this passage though, as many of the chapters are very practical advice that is easy to follow. The message of this one seems to be that your life will be more peaceful if you yourself are a good steward and preserver of life. Perhaps that is true. After all, in Chapter 46 he says that those who make war are plagued by war, and those who make peace live in peace.

Tao te Ching: 49

The sage has no fixed (personal) ideas.
He regards the people's ideas as his own.
I treat those who are good with goodness,
And I also treat those who are not good with goodness.
Thus goodness is attained.
I am honest to those who are honest,
And I am also honest to those who are not honest.
Thus honesty is attained.
The sage, in the government of his empire, has no subjective
viewpoint.
His mind forms a harmonious whole with that of his people.
They all lend their eyes and ears, and he treats them all
as infants.

Lao Tzu says that the sage, the good leader, doesn't have a personal agenda. He reacts (as much as a ruler of wu-wei reacts) to the will and needs of the people, but always deals with goodness and honesty. Goodness is subjective to so many people, but haven't you known someone who seemed wonderful and good, even though you just met them? Even if they don't agree with you? This person is gentle and subtle and feminine (passive, vacuous), all the things we would want to see in a mother. That is why these are all metaphors Lao Tzu uses for the Tao.

This method of behavior is what Lao Tzu means.

Tao te Ching: 48

The pursuit of learning is to increase day after day.
The pursuit of Tao is to decrease day after day.
It is to decrease and further decrease until one reaches the
point of taking no action.
No action is undertaken, and yet nothing is left undone.
An empire is often brought to order by having no activity
(laissez-faire),
If one (likes to) undertake activity, he is not qualified to
govern the empire.

This is the chapter that prevents me from ever becoming a Taoist. Is it a failing on my part, an incompatibility, or something with Taoism? I do not know.

I understand that the pursuit of Tao is to decrease. Get rid of your baggage, get rid of your assumptions, quit trying to acquire things. Simplicity. I can respect that and find great peace as I simplify my own life. It is only the word learning that gets to me. Perhaps another translation would have a better feel for me. Too many say learning or knowledge. It may mean to acquire, to build the assumptions and general knowledge.

I draw a line and say that truth (or perhaps Truth, if there is such a thing) is not something to increase or decrease.

I find learning vital, how else would one know about the Tao?

Tao te Ching: 47

One may know the world without going out of doors.
One may see the Way of Heaven without looking through
the windows.
The further one goes, the less one knows.
Therefore the sage knows without going about,
Understands without seeing,
And accomplishes without any action.

The last sentence obviously makes this about wu wei. On the surface, it advocates contemplation and not exerting yourself, and what is more exhaustive and yearning than discovery and exploration? They are the epitome of grasping.

Lao Tzu cautions that one need not look beyond themselves to be able to follow the Tao. The Tao is in all things, and if we allow ourselves to follow it, we will have great contentment and spontaneity of action. Nothing will be forced, we will act without thinking strenuously or acting with effort. That is the way of Tao.

I can see this when I analyze it, but the surface translation seems to be the one I see most commonly. Stay at home. Do not discover or explore. Be happy with what you have. Knowledge is bad.

Keep in mind, knowledge most often means cunning, and cunning is an avaricious sort of intelligence. Wanting to expand and grow is what all life must do. That isn't against the Tao.

Tao te Ching: 46

When Tao prevails in the world, galloping horses are turned
back to fertilize (the fields with their dung),
When Tao does not pervail in the world, war horses
thrive in the suburbs.
There is no calamity greater than lavish desires.
There is no greater guilt than discontentment.
And there is no greater diaster than greed.
He who is contented with contentment is always contented.

When man follows Tao, his resources go into cultivation and creation. When he does not, we see the implements of war in our towns and neighborhoods. Would you rather that we used steel and manpower to build a bridge or to see the jeep and machine gun drive down your neighborhood street? I would rather put our resources into something worth and noble and creative than into war.

Besides, horses tear up yards if there are enough of them. All the tromping and stomping eventually destroys the landscaping. Wouldn't that be true of tanks rolling down the street and security checkpoints set up in intersections? The beauty and cultivation are gone for the pragmatism (and some would say paranoia) of security and war.

Practice hsü and vacuity so that you do not want things you do not need. If you want too much, if you're too greedy, you make yourself sick and unhappy. It is your own doing, no one else's. Advertisement and marketing only exposes you to what is out there. It tries to make you want and desire and covet, but ultimately it's up to you.

The Four Noble Truths align perfectly with this chapter: there is suffering in the world, it is caused because you want stuff. You can make the suffering end. Taoism simply says to follow Tao. The entire book gives examples of what following Tao looks like, but Buddhism differs by actually offering the Eight Fold Path, which is a way to accomplish that cessation of want/greed/coveting.

You will always want and need things, but you won't always suffer for not having them. That is the difference between being greedy and not being greedy.

Tao te Ching: 45

What is most perfect seems to be incomplete;
But its utility is unimpaired.
What is most full seems to be empty;
But its usefulness is inexhaustible.
What is most straight seems to be crooked.
The greatest skills seems to be clumsy.
The greatest eloquence seems to stutter.
Hasty movement overcomes cold,
(But) tranquility overcomes heat.
By being greatly tranquil,
One is qualified to be the ruler of the world.

I've known people that this applies to, both personally and culturally. It makes me think of the simplicity of the Dalai Lama, or the folksy eloquence of Will Rogers or Woodie Guthrie. There are people that are seen as the masters of their craft, and yet they do it so casually that it seems that not only is it done in an offhand manner, but that the individual parts don't equal the great total at the end.

A great speaker may include "ums" or asides, becoming all the more human and making their message all the more potent for it. Had they simply rehearsed over and over, it may have been perfect but it would have not resonated so.

If something is looks good, but isn't quite perfect, but it still works best then it is perfect. So says the Tao.

The fullness through emptiness theme is visited once again. It's something to aspire to as a person, I think. To have a wide range of skills and proficiencies and yet be plain and unassuming; simply useful when needed. It's also something to aspire to when packing luggage. Practical advice for vacations, courtesy of thousands of years ago.

Tranquility takes a dual meaning at the end. Moving quickly, such as jogging or running, can keep you warm when it is frigid outside. Being slow and not overexerting yourself helps one keep their cool during the sweltering summer. Yet that lack of exertion is actually the practice of wu wei, which every other line describes as well. The best comes naturally, without being forced. The sage is that type of man.

Tao te Ching: 44

Which does one love more, fame or one's own life?
Which is more valuable, one's own life or wealth?
Which is worse, gain or loss?
Therefore he who has lavish desires will spend extravagantly.
He who hoards most will lose heavily.
He who is contented suffers no disgrace.
He who knows when to stop is free from danger.
Therefore he can long endure.

Chapter 9 says similar. In fact, several chapters speak on the good of stopping at the appropriate time, not seeking too much. This combines nicely with chapter 43's discussion on reaping what you sow. I feel this chapter is largely self explanatory.

Something to think about when considering that big, unnecessary purchase or a second helping.

Yet, there are reasons to go into danger. There are reasons why the endurance of one isn't worth the sacrifice of all. This probably goes back to the basic reason I'm not a Taoist: there are some things greater than us as individuals, and they are worth the sacrifice.

While chapter 34 talks about accomplishing the task and not taking credit for it, I do not think it means great missions with risk and reward. Adventure and exploration do not seem to be a part of Taoism.

Chapter 31 discusses weapons specifically as tools of evil, something to be used when necessary. Is science, too, something best used when necessary? Does the use of weapons extend to other technologies? Without striving, without seeking more, would we have ever left our ancestral homelands? Would we ever make it beyond this world and to others?

We always use the expansion to the "new world" of the Americas as our model for moving to a populated world. Science fiction is full of it. Why not? It's really our best example of a land we anticipated as "empty" (clearly it wasn't, the first explorers knew that very quickly). Australia is another example, and so the science fiction trope of a prison planet exists as well.

If we had expanded and peacefully joined another civilization, would Taoism be more kindly to expansion? Or would it still be part of war, as all our expansions in the past have been, something best done only when necessary and realizing it taints you and is best finished and done?

Tao te Ching: 43

The softest things in the world overcome the hardest
things in the world.
Non-being penetrates that in which there is no space.
Through this I know the advantage of taking no action.
Few in the world can understand teaching without words
and the advantage of taking no action.

It would be less of a blog and more of a transcription if I did all of this without words. It would mean I could get away with forgetting to hit the publish post button too.

Chapters 8 and 15 use the ideal of water as the soft thing that overcomes. Chapter 22 all but describes a tree in pliancy and yielding, yet ultimately weathering and surviving. Remember that from non-being comes being, and from being comes the many things, so that all things are ultimately of the non-being. If nothing can get in, then the only thing inside is that same nothing.

Teaching without words, silent transmission of doctrine, is the distinguishing characteristic of Zen Buddhism. We see it mentioned here again.

Tao te Ching: 42

Tao produced the One.
The One produced the two.
The two produced the three.
And the three produced the ten thousand things.
The ten thousand things carry the yin and embrace the
yang, and through the blending of the material force (ch'i)
they achieve harmony.
People hate to be the orphaned, the lonely ones, and the unworthy.
And yet kings and lords call themselves by these names.
Thereore it is often the case that thing gain by
losing and lose by gaining.
What other have taught, I teach also;
"Violent and fierce people do not die a natural death."
I shall make this the father (basis or starting point) of my teaching.

The One is usually thought to be the ultimate thing. In chapter 25, Lao Tzu calls it Nature. The two are Yin and Yang, or the Feminine and the Masculine. The Dark and the Light. The three are Nature and Yin and Yang, and the way that they meld together makes up the ten thousand things. We all have some Yin and some Yang and we are all part of Nature. No matter how we name things, and we do and this divides things as explained in chapter 2, we are all still a part of Nature.

There is a path of Buddhist thought that says that we are nothing but the conjunction of five skandhas, or aggregates. The skandhas are form, feeling, perception, volition, and consciousness. Perception isn't limited to the senses, but also how we perceive with our minds. So perception is also cognition. Volition isn't simply potential, though it is that, it is also impulse and action. The way these things combine make up us. It is a unique combination, but we cannot say we are any of these things. Remember the chariot and Nagasena, when he discusses the skandhas. The Yin and Yang are a part of Nature and yet distinct from it in the same way.

In my mind, this means that we are all the same stuff. If someone wants to call it Nature, the Universe, or God, it doesn't really matter. I think of it as a sort of sheet. Imagine you stick your five fingers up under the sheet and bring them together so that 5 parts of the cloth all touch each other. The union of the five parts is us, thinking we're something separate from the sheet. In a way we are, but in a much larger sense we are all the same thing and those fingers are only temporarily holding us there. If they move, all of us that was there is still there, just in a different configuration.

The quote at the end of the chapter, though it has no attribution because it's such a common aphorism, is no less true. It is probably more true because so many people in so many cultures say the same. Some look at it as Karma, Reversion, some look at it as the Golden Rule, some look at it as the Rule of Three. Physics even has this, with Newton's 3rd law. Everything has consequences. You are what you do. You are a part of everything, so remember, you also do everything.

That last thought keeps the greed monster low. I already have this, or that, why do I need it again?

Sometimes it works.

Back to It

I spent the last month working on a novel. It isn't finished, but it is very much underway. Sorry about the hiatus; philosophy and fiction (in this instance) don't mesh well.

Daily (or as near daily as I can manage) posting resumes tomorrow, December 3rd.

Tao te Ching: 41

When the highest type of men hear Tao,
They diligently practice it.
When the average type of men hear Tao,
They half believe in it.
When they lowest type of men hear Tao,
They laugh heartily at it.
If they did not laugh at it, it would not be Tao.
Therefore there is the established saying:
The Tao which is bright appears to be dark.
The Tao which goes forward appears to fall backward.
The Tao which is level appears uneven.
Great virtue appears like a valley (hollow).
Great purity appears like disgrace.
Far-reaching virtue appears as if insufficient.
Solid virtue appears as if unsteady.
True substance appears to be changeable.
The great square has no corners.
The great implement (or talent) is slow to finish (or mature).
Great music sounds faint.
Tao is hidden and nameless.
Yet it is Tao alone that skilfully provides for all and brings them to perfection.

This is a good chapter to follow the statement "Reversion is the action of Tao." There are seemingly paradoxical statements in the Tao te Ching.

Chapter 58 says, "Calamity is that upon which happiness depends; Happiness is that in which calamity is latent." Chapter 22 is full of them. In fact, the majority of the chapter is like that, and I address it in my post on that chapter. Chapter 23 as well. So why does this chapter suddenly cast the others into such light? Because most people cannot hear the Tao, and because they can't they see paradox. If they understood the principle of reversion, the paradoxes would no longer seem to be such.

Am I the average sort of man? I think I probably am. I would like to be in accord with the Tao. There are times I think it fits with the way that I see the world better than Buddhism, but the lack of exploration dismays me. My understanding is imperfect.

I do understand that honors are just as troublesome as dishonor. I do understand that not every good thing appears to be a good thing at first glance.

I do know that the greatest genius takes years to hone and grow. The wild talent of a youth is nothing to the genius displayed after she has honed her talent for twenty years.

Heck, Lao Tzu even includes good multimedia advice: keep your radio down low for better sound quality. I'm not sure he meant it that way, but the Tao brings all things to perfection.

Tao te Ching: 40

Reversion is the action of Tao.
Weakness is the function of Tao.
All things in the world come from being.
And being comes from non-being.

When looking at the Tao, always look backward. Everything depends on its base—on what it originates from. Very much like the Buddhist doctrine of dependent arising, things depend on being, and being depends on non-being.

This is the shortest chapter in the Tao te Ching, but it is a very profound restatement of the basic philosophy, if you have read the rest of the chapters.

Reversion also has another meaning. I've been thinking about it for a while. There is a story that Chuang Tzu and his disciple were walking through the mountains when they saw an enormous oak tree. A lumberjack was standing next to the tree but he wasn't cutting it down. Chuang Tzu asked why he didn't cut it down, and the lumberjack said it was of no use. So Chuang Tzu said "Because the tree has no exceptional qualities, it is able to live out its entire life."

Later, Chuang Tzu stops at a friends house for supper and the friend orders a goose to be killed for dinner. The servant says they have two geese, one that can cackle and one that cannot. Which should be killed? Chuang Tzu said to kill the mute one. The disciple said, "Hold on, Master. The tree lived because it had no exceptional qualities but the goose dies for the same reason? You need to pick a side." Chuang Tzu replies, "I pick somewhere in the middle. Even that isn't exactly right, because even one who stays in the middle will occasionally experience trouble."

You can think of reversion as playing "military golf."  You know—left, right, left, right...

When something gets to one far extreme, it becomes the other far extreme. I think this is probably easiest to see in politics. The most liberal of people become conservative once they have their way and those conservatives displaced by the former liberals become radicalized and attempt to bring about something new (the old ways seeming new). Hence why politics seems cyclical. Or fashion. Wars. Everything, really.

The man who goes to extremes eventually becomes his antithesis. Those who stay to the middle path are preserved.

Nagasena and The Chariot

I have decided to write about this after chapter 39 of the Tao te Ching because there is a reference to this parable in the ending lines:

Therefore enumerate all the parts of a chariot as you may, and you still have no chariot.

The Tao te Ching is hundreds of years older (conservatively 150, but  more likely 450 years), and yet we have this reference to the chariot. Perhaps this shouldn't be alarming. After all, Plato had a parable about the chariot and we can't lay this at his footsteps. Still, it could be a case of historical revisionism. It likely is, as other translations use a completely different line that does not even mention chariots.

The story begins with King Milinda visiting the Sankheyya hermitage. Milinda was an Indo-Greek king from northern India, and after traveling to the hermitage, he was greeted by Nagasena.

King Milinda: How is your reverence known and what is your name, sir?

Nagasena: I am known as Nagasena, great king, and everyone calls me Nagasena. Even though my parents named me Nagasena, the word 'Nagasena' is just a name, a label, a series of sounds, a concept. It is just a name. There is no real person to be apprehended.

King: (addresses everyone) Listen up everyone, Nagasena tells me that he is not a real person. How can I agree to that? (to Nagasena) If no person can be apprehended, then who gives you alms? Who eats and takes medicine? Who meditates and guards morality? Who kills, steals, and rapes? If someone were to kill you, Nagasena, wouldn't that be murder? What is this 'Nagasena'? Are you the hairs on your head?

Nagasena: No, great king.

King: The hair on your body?


Nagasena: No, great king.

King: What about your muscles, bone, brain, organs, or any other part of your physical body? Is this Nagasena?


Nagasena: No, great king.

King: Perhaps it is this whole form, or a combination of this form, feelings, perceptions, impulses, and consciousness?


Nagasena: No, great king.

King: Is it something outside of the combination of things?


Nagasena: No, great king.

King: (to everyone) I can discover no Nagasena at all. Just a sound, but who is the real Nagasena? Everyone, your reverence has told a lie. There is no Nagasena!

Nagasena: Your majesty, I notice that you have been brought up in great comfort. If you walked here under the noon sun, on the sharp rocks and burning sands, then your feet would be hurt and you would be tired. So how did you come, on foot or on a horse?

King: I came on a chariot.

Nagasena: If you came on a chariot, please explain what a chariot is. Is the pole the chariot?

King: No, reverend sir.

Nagasena: Is it the wheels, or the frame, or the yoke, or any of the parts?


King: No, reverend sir.


Nagasena: Is it the combination of the parts? If we laid out the wheels and the frame and the yoke and all the parts, would that be a chariot?


King: No, reverend sir.


Nagasena: Then is it outside of this combination of parts?


King: No, reverend sir.


Nagasena: Then, ask as I do, I can't discover a chariot. Chariot seems to be just a mere sound. Where is this chariot? Your majesty has told a lie!

Greeks: (applaud) How will you get out of this, your Majesty?

King: Nagasena, I have not told a lie. It is in the dependency and interworking of all the parts that you have a chariot. A pile of parts isn't enough. It is when they all work together that you have this conceptual term, sound, and name of a chariot.

Nagasena: Your majesty is exactly right about the chariot. It is just so with me. Nagasena is the working of all the parts of the body and the five skandhas that make me. But in ultimate reality, however, the person still isn't caught.

King: Well played sir. Well played.

I paraphrased it from my books, and there is a decent online copy here: The Questions of King Milinda.

I'll refer to this post when we get to dependent arising  and Buddhism, but I wanted to explain the reference so that it could be seen in the context of chapter 39. He's saying, like Nagasena, that a pile of parts does not make up a chariot. You have to have the base before you have the thing.

Tao te Ching: 39

Of those that obtained the One:
Heaven obtained the one and became clear.
Earth obtained the One and became tranquil.
The spiritual beings obtained the One and became divine.
The valley obtained the One and became full.
The myriad things obtained the One and became full.
Kings and barons obtained the One and became rulers (cheng) of the empire.
What made them so is the One.
If heaven had not thus become clear,
It would soon crack.
If the earth had not thus become tranquil,
It would soon be shaken.
If the spiritual beings had not become divine,
They would soon wither away.
If the valley had not thus become full,
It would soon become exhausted.
If the myriad things had not thus lived and grown,
They would soon become extinct.
If kings and barons had not thus become honorable and high in position,
They would soon fall.
Therefore humble station is the basis of honor.
The low is the foundation of the high.
For this reason kings and barons call themselves orphaned, the lonely ones, the unworthy.
Is this not regarding humble station the basis of honor?
Is it not?
Therefore enumerate all the parts of a chariot as you may, and you still have no chariot.
Rather than jingle like the jade,
Rumble like the rocks.

Remember that the Tao dwells in the lowest of places like water. It is forever the base and it dwells in the valleys. Do we worry about the sky cracking or the earth shaking on a physical level? Perhaps not nearly so much as we once did. The lesson still stands though: all things are supported on the lowest level or they cannot reach the heights that they aspire to.

Lao Tzu says that the missing element is the Tao.

I think this question has been around for nearly as long as humanity, or at least human consciousness. What makes us different than the stuff around us? We have answered with the idea of the soul. Lao Tzu answers not with the soul, but the Tao.

The chariot reference at the bottom is sometimes translated as "Supreme praise is no praise", which is catchy and short. I like it very much and it is easy to remember. I left in the chariot reference it is a link to one of my favorite parables. How odd that it would be a Buddhist parable from around 150 B.C.E. called The Chariot. I will address Nagasena and the parable in my next post, instead of the next chapter of the Tao. It will resume normally after that.

Tao te Ching: 38

The man of superior virtue is not (conscious of) his virtue,
And in this way he really possesses virtue.
The man of inferior virtue never loses (sight of) his virtue,
And in this way he loses his virtue.
The man of superior virtue takes no action, but has no ulterior motive to do so.
The man of inferior virtue takes action, and has an ulterior motive to do so.
The man of superior humanity takes action, but has no ulterior motive to do so.
The man of superior righteousness takes action, and has an ulterior motive to do so.
The man of superior propriety (li) takes action,
And when people do not respond to it, he will stretch his arms and force it on them.
Therefore, only when Tao is lost does the doctrine of virtue arise.
When virtue is lost, only then does the doctrine of humanity arise.
When humanity is lost, only then does the doctrine of propriety arise.
Now, propriety is a superficial expression of loyalty and faithfulness, and the beginning of disorder.
Those who are the first to know have the flowers (appearance) of Tao but are the beginning of ignorance.
For this reason the great man dwells in the thick (substantial), and does not rest with the thin (superficial).
He dwells in the fruit (reality), and does not rest with the flower (appearance).
Therefore he rejects one, and accepts the other.

The beginning is a condemnation of pride and praise for humility, or at the very least a practical hsü (vacuity). When someone is truly good, they seldom notice it. They simply think that is the way that is natural and often reply, "Isn't everyone like that?" Those who are proudest of their virtue are those who seldom have much and are on their way to losing it by bragging about it. Imagine someone who works at a homeless shelter for 10 hours a week, but spends the remaining time letting other people know that they are doing it. Eventually, that person becomes known not for their good work, but for letting others know about it.

I suffer from some of this myself. I want validation and approval, and that is a way to get it. It just proves that I don't have all of my own ducks in a row. How many people have you met with the kind of unaware virtue that Lao Tzu discusses? I think you will find it is a small number. Yet, I can't think of many who would not think well and want to emulate such a person.

Lao Tzu does an excellent job of pronouncing and then explaining the next section about the fall from virtue to disorder. This is rightly taken, again, as a condemnation of Confucianism for the same reasons as before. The Confucian ideals discussed in chapter 18 are the natural response of humans to come back to a state of harmony with Tao, and therefore existence, without actually coming back into harmony with Tao.

It is an emulation of an the ideal state, not the achievement of the ideal state.

Wang Pi, a Neo-Taoist from about the 9th century (birthdate unknown, presumed to die in 805 C.E.), wrote many commentaries, including one of the Tao te Ching. He notes:

How is virtue to be attained? It is to be attained through Tao. How is virtue to be completely fulfilled? It is through non-being as its function. As non-being is its function, all things will be embraced. Therefore in regard to things, if they are understood as non-being all things will be in order, whereas if they are understood as being, it is impossible to avoid the fact that they are products (phenomena).

 This is interesting to me. I see it as a marriage between Taoist thought and Buddhist thought.

Tao te Ching: 37

Tao invariably takes no action, and yet there is nothing left undone.
If kings and barons can keep it, all things will transform spontaneously.
If, after transformation, they should desire to be active,
I would restrain them with simplicity, which has no name.
Simplicity, which has no name, is free of desires.
Being free of desires, it is tranquil.
And the world will be at peace of its own accord.

The concept of simplicity is very similar to the Buddhist concept of the Four Noble Truths, and by extension, the Eight Fold Path. I will cover both in much more detail later, but very briefly the Four Noble Truths are:

1. There is suffering in the world.
2. Suffering is caused by craving/grasping for things.
3. There is a way to stop suffering.
4. The way to stop suffering is to follow the Eight Fold Path.

And the Eight Fold Path goes on to describe a code of conduct that includes Right View, which basically means to see things (including and especially your own motivations) for what they are. Often it is just an animal craving for more or an avoidance of pain. Pain isn't to be confused with suffering. Everyone will get sick and stub their toe or break an arm, suffering is primarily psychological and emotional. In this case, being free of desires is very similar to an ideal on the path to enlightenment in Buddhism.

Tao te Ching: 36

In order to contract,
It is necessary first to expand.
In order to weaken,
It is necessary first to strengthen.
In order to destroy,
It is necessary first to promote.
In order to grasp,
It is necessary first to give.
This is called subtle light.
The weak and tender overcome the hard and the strong.
Fish should not be taken away from water.
And sharp weapons of the state should not be displayed
to the people.

This irritates the Confucianists because it goes against the rectification of names. Names should agree with the thing, in their philosophy. Not only that, doing one thing with the goal of getting another is deceitful. I say that it is possibly cunning, but there is nothing to be gained by it.


The beginning is a natural law, and it fits within the idea of the taiji. One action leads into another and both depend on each other. Very few would disagree with this, especially with the analogy of a muscle.

Do you get something from giving? Perhaps not in the physical sense, but some would make an argument that giving has intangible rewards such as good will or positive feelings. Good karma. Lao Tzu puts this principle with the other natural laws and gives it a name, the subtle light, which is the light of nature from chapter 27.

He also includes a caveat about not disturbing a harmonious environment. It makes sense to me, but I don't find it very satisfying. This could be because I am going through my own period of reaching and grasping. At the moment, samsara has me firmly in its grasp.

Time Off

I just took a week off of posting. I'll post Chapter 36 later today (since it is technically past midnight) but I have been dealing with my own existential crisis. Crisis is probably too dramatic. Still, I feel like a passenger and not the driver. I feel like I haven't made a difference, done anything, or been anywhere.

So I remembered Solomon's magic ring. I looked at my own version, strung with string to keep around my neck.

I reread Ozymandias.

Pause and consider. Selah.

Tao te Ching: 35

Hold fast to the great form (Tao),
And all the world will come.
They come and will encounter no harm;
But enjoy comfort, peace, and health.
When there are music and dainties,
Passing strangers will stay.
But the words uttered by Tao,
How insipid and tasteless!
We look at Tao; it is imperceptible.
We listen to it; it is inaudible.
We use it; it is inexhaustible.

Why this feeling of sarcasm here? The modern mind isn't alone in using the wit of sarcasm, but here Lao Tzu is voicing the unenlightened and their disdain for the Tao. Why would we listen to something we can't hear, look at something we can't see? Because it is inexhaustible when we use it. It is always there, and the tool never dulls. Only the user.

How does that tie in to the first part?

Ruling through wu-wei does not cultivate cunning or ambition, so the world is comfortable and peaceful and healthy. Theoretically. They didn't really suffer from the population pressures we do now back then, though they had their own versions. There have always been optimal spots to live. And that is the last part. If there are things that delight the senses, then visitors will stay. If there are not, then they will pass on through to wherever they need to be.

Tao te Ching: 34

The Great Tao flows everywhere.
It may go left or right.
All things depend on it for life, and it does not turn away
from them.
It accomplishes its task, but does not claim credit for it.
It clothes and feeds all things but does not claim to be
master over them.
Always without desires, it may be called The Small.
All things come to it and it does not master them;
it may be called The Great.
Therefore (the sage) never strives himself for the great, and
thereby the great is achieved.

 This goes back to chapter 10 very soundly when we think of The Great. Finally we have a word, or at least a concept, for nurturing all things but not mastering them as a good parent ideally should. The small goes back further, to chapter 2.

I wonder how many times "the great" from the last lines have been interpreted to mean not the nurturing without ruling, but actually whatever great goal of society was important at that time.

"Let us all do our thing, and this magnificent thing will come from it," they might say. It sounds like reaching to me.

Tao te Ching: 33

He who knows others is wise;
He who knows himself is enlightened.
He who conquers others has physical strength.
He who conquers himself is strong.
He who is contented is rich.
He who acts with vigor has will.
He who does not lose his place (with Tao) will endure.
He who dies but does not really perish enjoys long life.

Whether or not you agree with the last two lines, the first lines are true so far as I can tell. I suppose there is a metaphysical truth, objective truth, subjective truth, etc, and it's hard to say which is which. Still, the first two lines are the best definition of wisdom versus enlightenment that I have seen.

The middle dichotomies are likewise interesting, but not as powerful as the first two.

The last lines make me think of karma. It isn't necessarily you, or your "soul" or something that moves forward, but if you live in accordance with Tao, if you make a difference in the lives of others, that part will propagate forward even after you have stopped making that particular wave.

Tao te Ching: 32

Tao is eternal and has no name.
Though its simplicity seems insignificant, none in the world
can master it.
If kings and barons would hold on to it, all things
would submit to them spontaneously.
Heaven and earth unite to drip sweet dew.
Without the command of men, it drips evenly over all.
As soon as there were regulations and institutions, there
were names (differentation of things).
As soon as there are names, know that it is time to stop.
It is by knowing when to stop that one can be free from
danger.
Analogically, Tao in the world (where everything is
embraced by it), may be compared to rivers and streams
running into the sea.

Much of this goes back to previous chapters on ruling. Rulers try too hard to control everything and rule with an iron fist, even in a Democracy. They need to take less action to control and simply do the things that need to be done.

It is interesting that he says that one should stop when there are names, but it is important not to go too far.

I think like this whenever I meet someone. Either I like them, or I don't. I prefer not to enumerate reasons why on either side, because it simply goes too far. Not to mention, then you have a ready list of peeves.

Tao te Ching: 31

Fine weapons are instruments of evil.
They are hated by men.
Therefore those who possess Tao turn away from them.
The good ruler when at home honors the left (symbolic of good omens).
When at war he honors the right (symbolic of evil omens).
Weapons are instruments of evil, not the instruments of a good ruler.
When he uses them unavoidably, he regards calm constraint as the best principle.
Even when he is victorious, he does not regard it as praiseworthy,
For to praise victory is to delight in the slaughter of men.
He who delights in the slaughter of men will not succeed in the empire.
In ausipcious affairs, the left is honored.
The lieutenant-general stands on the left.
The senior general stands on the right.
That is to say that the arrangement follows that of funeral ceremonies.
For the slaughter of the multitude, let us weep with sorrow and grief.
For a victory, let us observe the occasion with funeral ceremonies

You know, it's said that the line about the arrangement of funeral ceremonies was just a side note, not the original text? You have to be wary of the text. It is thousands of years old and subject to interpretation.

Notice how Lao Tzu doesn't say to be a pacifist. He doesn't say not to use weapons or force. He says they are hated and thsoe that have Tao turn away from them, yet there are times when men must take up arms. Remember that the left is the black, the feminine, the receiving side and so the opposite is true of the right. In war, stay to the right, the masculine, the acting side but do not regard it as praiseworthy. Though you have to act in the right, remember the left if you are to stay with the Tao.

Tao te Ching: 30

He who assists the ruler with Tao does not dominate the
world with force.
The use of force usually brings requital.
Wherever armies are stationed, briers and thorns grow.
Great wars are always followed by famines.
A good (general) achieves his purpose ands tops,
But dares not seek to dominate the world.
He achieves his purpose but does not brag about it.
He achieves his purpose but does not boast about it.
He achieves his purpose but is not proud of it.
He achieves his purpose but only as an unavoidable step.
He achieves his purpose but does not aim to dominate.
(For) after things reach their prime, they begin to grow old,
Which means being contrary to Tao.
Whatever is contrary to Tao will soon perish.

The beginning sounds so much like the Golden Rule. Or Murphy's Law, depending on your bent of mind, I suppose. Still, there is a cause and effect here, and endless cycle of reaping what you sew. The Buddhists call this Samsara in the large scale, though it would be apt to say this about the small scale as well.

What plant can live in the middle of concrete and bunkers, tough parade grounds and challenging obstacles? Not only is it visually appealing and easy to imagine a tough thorny plant growing up out of the sidewalk near a building, but also that the rough environment of war will not foster creativity or beauty, only survival at any cost.

Great wars being followed by famine is probably demonstrably true. It makes me think of war rationing, or how a country must deal with the lack of resources that war caused. Economically speaking, war is one of the very few ways to actually dispose of a resource or personnel. Otherwise, it's simply a shifting game.

The good general is a good ruler, acting with wu-wei. There is no valor or glory or anything good about accomplishing his goal, other than it must be done. It is best that he be vacuous when he does so.

Watch for these last two lines in chapter 55, but understand that they mean that acting in accordance with Tao allows for a thing to last and acting against it, without wu-wei, creates something that will eventually be weathered and torn down.

Tao te Ching: 29

When one desires to take over the empire and act on it
(interfere with it),
I see that he will not succeed.
The empire is a spiritual thing, and should not be acted on.
he who acts on it harms it.
He who holds on to it loses it.
Among creatures some lead and some follow.
Some blow hot and some blow cold.
Some are strong and some are weak.
Some may break and some may fall.
Therefore the sage discards the extremes, the extravagant,
and the excessive.

When you try too hard, you will not get what you want. All things have a role and perform the way that they should, if simply left to perform as they must. It is overt action, not ruling through wu-wei, that causes the failure.

Tao te Ching: 28

He who knows the male (active force) and keeps to the
female (the passive force or receptive element)
Becomes the ravine of the world.
Being the ravine of the world,
He will never depart from eternal virtue,
But returns to the state of infancy.
He who knows the white (glory) and yet keeps to the
black (humility),
Becomes the model for the world.
Being the model for the world,
He will never deviate from eternal virtue,
But returns to the state of the Ultimate of Non-being.
He who knows glory but keeps to humility,
Becomes the valley of the world,
He will be proficient in eternal virtue,
And returns to the state of simplicity (uncarved wood).
When the uncarved wood is broken up, it is turned into
concrete things (as Tao is transformed into the myriad things).
But when the sage uses it, he becomes the leading official.
Therefore the great ruler does not cut up.

Chapter 28 has a lot of repetition like some of the other chapters, and it reaches back to them as well. Again we talk about the feminine as a passive virtue, but here he discusses the masculine force briefly. Remember that this black and white, female and male dichotomy is also present in the taiji. Isn't it interesting that the black is the virtuous over the white? Turns spaghetti westerns and Star Wars on its head.

Consider that Taoism looks for ultimate practicality and simplicity, and glory is neither.

Ultimately, Lao Tzu reaches back to chapters 6 and 8 by discussing the virtue of the passive feminine and the dwelling in the low places of the world.

Tao te Ching: 27

A good traveler leaves no track or trace.
A good speech leaves no flaws.
A good reckoner uses no counters.
A well-shut door needs no bolts, and yet it cannot be opened.
A well-tied knot needs no rope and yet none can untie it.
Therefore the sage is always good in saving men and
consequently no man is rejected.
He is always good in saving things and consequently nothing
is rejected.
This is called following the light (of Nature).
Therefore the good man is the teacher of the bad,
And the bad is the material from which the good may learn.
He who does not value the teacher,
Or greatly care for the material,
Is greatly deluded although he may be learned.
Such is the essential mystery.

The word for following is hsi, which can mean many other things. For instance, it could also mean to cover, pierce, or practice. The rendering used here means to follow, but there is a nice homophonic key here which rings back to chapter 2.

When you are good at something, truly good at something, you can be good at it without leaving any evidence that it was ever there. This isn't simply leaving no evidence, but a much deeper impermanence. It is something of quality that does not exist to stand out or be remembered. We judge a lot of our successes by how we will be remembered or what our peers thought of us. In fact, some judge their entire worth on this. This sort of striving does not allow for hsü. The need to create such a feat speaks of the utmost planning and drive on the part of the actor.

But the sage wouldn't reject any man or material for these flaws. If he did he would be undermining the taiji, also known as yin and yang. It would be undermining cause and effect. It is only by names such as "good" that we even know the "bad". Lao Tzu is very clear about the relationship between the two.

Tao te Ching: 26

The heavy is the root of the light.
The tranquil is the ruler of the hasty.
Therefore the sage travels all day
Without leaving his baggage.
Even at the sight of magnificent scenes,
He remains leisurely and indifferent.
How is it that a lord with ten thousand chariots
Should behave lightheartedly in his empire?
If he is lighthearted, the minister will be destroyed.
If he is hasty, the ruler is lost.

Did you know that the Chinese word for baggage means "something heavy"? I expect to eventually hear from someone who knows Chinese and have them ask in what language or to give something more specific, but that is what this translation shows and it works when going back to the first sentence.

The heavy is the root of the light. I don't find this surprising. This is the boy holding the kite, the earth holding the tree, and so forth. There is a solid root to things. Likewise, the tranquil is the ruler of the hasty. It makes me think of an infinitely patient parent minding the frantic antics of a small child.

The sage has no ability to quit his responsibility. If you were to fly half way around the world, you would want to put down your luggage and take a nap. The sage cannot do that, but instead he remains like that patient parent. Could he be whimsical with his nation? Could he make rash decisions? The sage would not, because this would not be ruling with wu-wei.

Remember wu-wei as a guiding principle on the path of the Tao.

Tao te Ching: 25

There was something undifferentiated and yet complete,
Which existed before heaven and earth.
Soundless and formless, it depends on nothing
and does not change.
It operates everywhere and is free from danger.
It may be considered the mother of the universe.
I do not know its name; I call it Tao.
If forced to give it a name, I shall call lit Great.
Now being great means functioning everywhere.
Functioning everywhere means far-reaching.
Being far-reaching means returning to the original point.
Therefore Tao is great.
Heaven is great.
Earth is great.
And the king is also great.
There are four great things int he univers, and the king is
one of them.
Man models himself after Earth.
Earth models itself after Heaven.
Heaven models itself after Tao.
And Tao models itself after Nature.

Taoism is very cyclical. The returning to the root is a very prominent concept in the east. The beginning of the chapter reiterates what the Tao is, in a way we saw in chapter 1. We see how it arose from nothing and is undifferentiated. Lao Tzu says it has no name so he calls it Tao. This "Tao" isn't a label to differentiate it and hence break it apart, but a way to try to discuss the concept with others. Of course, eventually one would be forced to give it a name which does indeed pull it apart.

I think it's interesting how he describes great as functioning everywhere, and functioning everywhere as far-reaching. That part is easy enough to understand but, when functioning everywhere means to return to the original point one can see how far reaching it must be. It encompasses and circumscribes all things and returns to the center. There are a lot of meditations that are like that. Returning to the center isn't necessarily a shrinking, in fact my experience says that it seldom is. Instead it is expansion to the point that all is encompassed and you wind up back where you started.

Two quick notes on the translation. When he talks about the king, he also means the sage or man. The king is simply a proxy for a successful human in this instance. Remember the emphasis put on ruling by the Tao te Ching. It isn't simply ruling of a land, which it could apply to, but also to ruling one's own life and affairs.

The other is in the progression from man to Earth, Earth to Heaven, Heaven to Tao, and.... Tao to Nature? Nature is often translated as Heaven and Earth. This could be the cyclical nature again, and I think it is. Certainly Tao does not model itself off of man, but since Heaven and Earth are the two things descended from the great Tao, it is only natural that it functions very similar to them and identical to the two of them taken as a whole.

Tao te Ching: 24

He who stands on tiptoe is not steady.
He who strides forward does not go.
He who shows himself is not luminous.
He who justifies himself is not prominent.
He who boasts of himself is not given credit.
He who brags does not endure for long.
From the point of view of Tao, these are like remnants of
food and tumors of action,
Which all creatures detest.
Therefore those who possess Tao turn away from them.

Reaching, making a concerted effort, and showing off are all signs that one isn't doing the thing they should be doing, but instead are making a show for others benefit. "Look at me, I am fantastic because..." and because the effort is put into appearances instead of actualities, the actuality falls short.

These things are the symptoms of the effort being put into appearances, and Lao Tzu says from the view of Tao, of which a Taoist would be practicing wu-wei, these things are excrement and left over parts. They can be offensive, and those who follow the Tao stay away because they know what it signifies.

Tao te Ching: 23

Nature says few words.
For the same reason a whirlwind does not last a whole morning,
Nor does a rainstorm last a whole day.
What causes them?
It is Heaven and Earth (Nature).
If Heaven and Earth cannot make them last long,
How much less can man?
Therefore he who follows Tao is identified with Tao.
He who follows virtue is identified with virtue.
He who abandons (Tao) is identified with abandonment (of Tao).
He who is identified with Tao—Tao is happy to have him.
He who is identified with virtue—virtue is also happy to have him.
And he who is identified with the abandonment (of Tao)—
The abandonment (of Tao) is happy to have him.
It is only when one does not have enough faith in others
that others will have no faith in him.

What a kick in the teeth. To me. This is without going to the Analects of Confucius. This is without going back to chapter 17 and discussing faith in others. This is a common theme in philosophy and parables. Let us look at both parts in sequence.

The first line does reference the Analects of Confucius, chapter 17: verse 19.

Confucius: I do not wish to say anything.
Tzu-kung: If you do not say anything, what can we little disciples ever learn to pass on to others?
Confucius: Does Heaven (T'ien, Nature) say anything? The four seasons run their course and all things are produced. Does Heaven say anything?

Nature does say few words. There is an impermanence in the works of even the most fundamental of all things (other than Tao, which is eternal). Not only does this fit in with the impermanence that is so key in Buddhism, but in other works as well. Impermanence is one of the three marks of existence in Buddhism, along with Dukkha (suffering) and Anatman (also anatta, no-self. I use anatman because it fits nicely with the concept of atman in Hindiusm.) Since everything depends on something else for its very existence, there is nothing that is eternal and unchanging says the basic precepts of the Buddha. But where else do we see this?

We see it in the Jewish folktale where King Solomon sends one of his ministers into the world to find a magic ring that will make a happy man who sees it sad, and a sad man who sees it happy. The minister has 6 months to find the ring and on the very last night, he asks a poor man if he has seen such a ring. The poor man etches some words on the inside of the ring and gives it to the minister. The distraught minister reads it and smiles happily.

The minister returns to Solomon, who believes he could not have found such a ring, and the minister gives the ring to the King. Solomon reads the inscription: gimel zayin yud, or gam zeh ya'avor, which means "This too shall pass." Upon reading this, Solomon realized that he and all his works would eventually be no more than dust.

Where else do we see this? Shelly's poem Ozymandias is a good example as well.

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shatter'd visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

And of the second part? Actions define a man, not his philosophy, the things he thinks or the things that he says. It is truly what you have accomplished that others will associate with you.

The last lines relate back to chapter 17, but the concept of having faith in another is something that is very difficult for me. I like to think that I am steadfast, loyal and trustworthy but I have a hard time finding these qualities in others. Perhaps it is the same. If you can't see these in others, then they will have a difficult time seeing them in you even if it is actually there. One has to make the first move at some point. And in the end? It matters not because it will have all returned to sand except for the people that we leave behind. The Buddhists and their belief in reincarnation adds another dimension.

Tao te Ching: 22

To yield is to be preserved whole.
To be bent is to become straight.
To be empty is to be full.
To be worn out is to be renewed.
To have little is to possess.
To have plenty is to be perplexed.
Therefore the sage embraces The One
And becomes the model of the world.
He does not show himself; therefore he is luminous.
He does not boast of himself; therefore he is given credit.
He does not brag; therefore he can endure for long.
It is precisely because he does not compete that the world
cannot compete with him.
Is the ancient saying, "To yield is to be preserved whole,"
empty words?
Truly he will be preserved and (prominence, etc.) will
come to him.

I have meditated on this passage more than any other in all of Taoism. When I find myself looking for a passage in the Tao, I always come to rest here. This is testable. This is true. This is a principle that I find I can live my life by.

Of course, one may need more than just one principle.

If one did not yield, would he not be broken? One cannot withstand the onslaught of work, life, friends, emotion or any other thing without allowing it to wash over them. The torrent is simply too much and some things must be accommodated or you will simply shatter. You will lose your job, your family, your friends, or even your mind. There are moments.

So it is that bending allows one to become straight after the torrent has passed.

If you have little or if you are empty, you truly own the things that you have. What we think of as lacking is actually very rich. Remember chapter 11—"therefore turn being into advantage, and turn non-being into utility." We can and must be more than we think we are because of lack.

To test the veracity of wearing out, work yourself into exhaustion physically and see if your spirit does not buoy up with the completeness of your work and the satisfaction of your accomplishment.

Yet, we stick to chapter 2 and 3 and do not associate ourselves with our works. We do not boast, brag, or glorify our own works and because of that, they last forever. No one is comfortable with the vainglorious advertisements of those that showcase their works.

This is a hard chapter to write for, because I feel like the explanation isn't necessary. Please write below if you have comments. Selah.

Tao te Ching: 21

The all-embracing quality of the great virtue (te) follows
alone from the Tao.
The thing that is called Tao is eluding and vague.
Vague and eluding, there it is in the form.
Eluding and vague, in it are things.
Deep and obscure, in it is the essence.
The essence is very real; in it are evidences.
From the time of old until now, its name (manifestations)
ever remains,
By which we may see the beginning of all things.
How do I know the beginnings of all things are so?
Through this (Tao).

Here essence also means intelligence, life force, or perhaps even soul. It is the animating force that makes a thing what it is.

One of the translators of the many translations of the Tao te Ching calls this the most important chapter of the book in a philosophical sense. Perhaps. I don't find it particularly inspiring. It doesn't give something to test. Still, I see how it forms the backbone of Taoism. It is an elegant restatement of the previous chapters.

Te, the great virtue, comes from the Tao not as a named thing but as a state of grace or virtue falls upon the virtuous one. Is that as redundant as the translation seems? Perhaps, but it is the only thing that comes from the Tao that isn't there because it is so named. Heaven and Earth were born of names. One to two, and two to many. It is not separate from the eternal Tao, but still it proceeds from it.

Te is there in form or objects. The te is in an object we might call a person even without it having a name. It is in the thing itself, not in the label plus name construct. Yet it is also in the label plus name construct. A person may possess Te, and a specific person may possess Te. Whatness and thisness. Quiddity and haecceity.

Not only is Te real, but because it is real we can see the virtue in other things. I think that is what Lao Tzu is saying.

Tao te Ching: 20

Abandon learning and there will be no sorrow.
How much difference is there between "Yes, sir," and
"Of course not"?
How much difference is there between "good" and "evil"?
What people dread, do not fail to dread.
But, alas, how confused, and the end is not yet.
The multitude are merry, as though feasting on a day of sacrifice,
Or like ascending a tower in the springtime.
I alone am inert, showing no sign (of desires),
Like an infant that has not yet smiled.
Wearied, indeed, I seem to be without a home.
The multitude all possess more than enough,
I alone seem to have lost all.
Mine is indeed the mind of an ignorant man,
Indiscriminate and dull!
Common folks are indeed brilliant;
I alone seem to be in the dark.
Common folks see differences and are clear-cut;
I alone make no distinctions.
I seem drifting as the sea;
Like the wind blowing about seemingly without destination.
The multitude all have a purpose;
I alone seem to be stubborn and rustic.
I alone differ from others,
And value drawing sustenance from Mother (Tao).

A Confucianist would never say this. They would sharply distinguish between good and evil and would never advocate abandoning learning. This seems anathema to me, one who likes to learn and test and distinguish but I think I understand what Lao Tzu is getting at here.

Education causes difference. It isn't simply the knowledge, but it fosters the have and have-not system. The better education you have, the better job you get. The better job you get, the better you can provide for your family. The better you provide for your family, the more you can give them including education. The converse is also true.

At the end of the day, does yes or no matter? At the end of the week, year, or decade? Good or evil is a stronger concept in most of our minds, yet we still do "good" and "evil" actions. What does this do to or for us in the long run? We have all done both.

Everyone has preconceptions and goals and ideals. Everyone follows common sense and tradition. Yet the sage does not. The sage makes on distinctions and draws only from the Tao and not from what others value or need.

Tao te Ching: 19

Abandon sageliness and discard wisdom;
Then the people will benefit a hundredfold.
Abandon humanity and discard righteousness;
Then the people will return to filial piety and deep love.
Abandon skill and discard profit;
Then there will be no thieves and robbers.
However, these three things are ornament (wen)
and not adequate.
Therefore let people hold onto these:
Manifest plainness,
Embrace simplicity,
Reduce selfishness,
Have few desires.

Chapter 19 follows 18 closely, prescribing the Tao as an antidote to the ills that Confucianism contrives to correct. The fact that both use the term sage is a little confusing. Remember that the sage in Taoism is not the  chun-tzu of Confucianism. Chun-tzu embraces jen and all of his virtues flow forth from it, while the Taoist sage is impartial to all things.

The sage also has a dual meaning here—that of the learned man. Lao Tzu says to abandon the pursuit of knowledge for its own sake. This strikes hollow for me, and I suspect on some level it strikes hollow for many Buddhists because Buddhism is an experimental doctrine. From Buddha to the most recent Dalai Lama encourage people to explore and test the precepts of Buddhism on their own and not to simply take the word of those that are supposedly further along the path to enlightenment. Still, there is something to what Lao Tzu said. We are the first generation of humans who have the capability to destroy humanity. Our reckless quest to gain knowledge enabled nuclear bombs, germ warfare, and nerve toxins. How odd that we might get these things from poisonous yellowcake ore, the plague-ridden dead, or South American frogs. Yet, if we hadn't, we would also miss out on CT scans, the polio vaccine, and plastics.

Still, Lao Tzu makes the case to abandon jen and yi and by doing so he assurts that we will return to hsiao automatically. Lao Tzu also addresses Hsün Tzu (not to be confused with Sun Tzu, author of The Art of War), the father of the rational (or slightly pessimistic) school of Confucianism. In either case, it was more pragmatic. Hsün Tzu believed mankind's essential nature to be wayward, which conflicts with the beliefs of Mencius (who felt mankind was essentially good.) Hsün Tzu thought that social conventions and codes of conduct were the way to correct this. This is eventually adopted by Han Fei Tzu. Yet at the same time, Hsün Tzu's view of the impartiality of nature harkens unto Taoism. This skill and knowledge is rebuked.

Yet, the skill and profit being rebuked are also the expensive things and great deeds that Lao Tzu cautions against praising in chapter 3. He offers a prescription against the flavors of Confucianism in his last 4 lines.

Tao te Ching: 18

When the great Tao is declined,
The doctrines of humanity (jen) and righteousness (yi) arose,
When knowledge and wisdom appeared,
There emerged great hypocrisy.
When the six family relationships are not in harmony,
There will be the advocacy of filial piety and deep love to children.
When a country is in disorder,
There will be praise of loyal ministers.

Chapter 18 attacks Confucianism directly. It isn't a contradiction of a point here and there to differentiate itself, but it is a direct subversion of Confucianism. I'll go into Confucianism briefly so you can see how this is so, but I'll have to explore it more fully at another time.

There are six things that form the basis of Confucius' philosophy. They are jen, li, yi, hsiao, chih, chun-tzu, and te.

We know that jen means human heartedness, humane, good natured, benevolent and so forth. Confucius says all other virtues extend from it. The Tao does not regard anything with jen but instead remains impartial, thus it is a rebuke because Lao Tzu says that it is only when one gives up the Tao that this must come into being.

The same is true for yi, which is a since of righteousness. It is the moral disposition to be good. It is an instinctive drive to do the right thing, according to Confucianism. "The Right Thing" changes from culture to culture, so accepting yi is actually accepting the impersonal ego of a society, or appropriating the virtues of the culture.

Chih was added by Mencius because he believed that basic human nature was good, and it means moral wisdom. Where yi is instinctive and reactionary and applies an impulse, chih is drawn from the knowledge of good and evil. There is a difference, but that is another long post for when I get to Confucianism, but that is the knowledge and wisdom that Lao Tzu is mentioning here.

So without the Tao, Lao Tzu says that we must try to be humane to others and have a sense of righteousness. Now that we know good from evil and struggle to stay in the good, we have the ability to stray from that path and fall into the wrong despite our yi.

Hsiao means filial piety or reverence. Confucius found that honoring your parents and ancestors were key to his philosophy. They were to be honored and respected because they gave up much for you and you should in turn do much to make your family name well known and respected. This extends not just from physical needs but also spiritual and emotional richness as well. When the parents die, you take up their dreams and continue them for three years. Lao Tzu says that when the six types of family relationships are not in harmony, it becomes a virtue to have them in harmony. The six types of relationships is also a Confucian construct and they are as follows, in pairs: parent to child, elder sibling to younger sibling, and husband to wife.

Finally, Lao Tzu says that when the country is in disorder, we make a virtue out of the ruling power te. These are patterns of prestige and power that are used to rule over a country.

Chun-tzu is the ultimate man, the ideal man. The Taoists might call him the sage except that he doesn't fit the same virtues. To the Confucians, chun-tzu had 5 virtues that all stemmed from the unlimited flow of jen within  him: kindness, rectitude, decorum, wisdom, and sincerity. He was without fear and beyond personal ambition, living at the disposal of others. He doesn't sound too different from the sage, but he was partial all the same and he embraced jen and not wu-wei.

Chapter 18 rebukes Confucianism in every way. If one does not act in accordance with the great Tao, if one is partial and strives and plans, then one must invent an entire system of behavior just to bring things into an operable state. Ruling without wu-wei, having a country without hsü, requires that new virtues be created to accomplish many of the same tasks. Ultimately, rejection of the Tao requires much more work to achieve something that allows a state to operate on a similar level as the Tao. This, of course, violates wu-wei.

Tao te Ching: 17

The best (rulers) are those whose existence is (merely)
known by the people.
The next best are those who are loved and praised.
The next are those who are feared.
And the next are those who are despised.
It is only when one does not have enough faith in others
that others will have no faith in him.
[The great rulers] value their words highly.
They accomplish their task; they complete their work.
Nevertheless their people say that they simply follow Nature (Tzu-jan).

Another passage about how to rule. Sometimes this is how to rule yourself, but this is about how to rule others. Who would you most rather have as your boss? As your president, king, or prime minister? Would you want someone who accomplished things and we simply knew that they were there? If so, it would mean that they spent their time doing their job without pomp and circumstance.

Wouldn't it be nice to have a leader who is loved and praised? Someone we support and proudly follow? Sure it would be, but what does that leader have to do to get us to do so? How much extra effort must they put in to be so visible and so popular?

A ruler feared still commands loyalty. There are consequences to not following his word and those consequences are terrifying enough to cause one to follow him. He is still a poor ruler though, and when the time comes that the consequence can be paid, his rule is at an end. Yet, a ruler who is despised is still a ruler to be obeyed. You could hate your boss and he could be cruel and selfish, but if he was often right and clever you might follow him anyway. Still, no one wants a leader like this.

This is a very self-explanatory chapter except for the difference between the ruler who rules with wu-wei and the one who is loved and praised. Popular leaders have to devote a lot of time and effort into staying popular, and that isn't the job that they have. It takes time and energy that is best spent elsewhere. That popular and well loved leader claims his actions and does things for the consequence they bring (popularity, love, fame, fortune) and not for the reasons that are good (that it must be done).

Tzu-jan is interesting here. It is literally "self evident" or "self so" but it really means to act naturally, or spontaneously, without untoward planning. Following nature is a way of acting in accordance with the sage.

Tao te Ching: 16

Attain complete vacuity,
Maintain steadfast quietude.
All things come into being,
And I see thereby their return.
All things flourish,
But each one returns to its root.
This return to its root means tranquility.
It is called returning to its destiny.
To return to destiny is called the eternal (Tao).
To know the eternal is called enlightenment.
Not to know the eternal is to act blindly to result in disaster.
He who knows the eternal is all-embracing.
Being all-embracing, he is impartial.
Being impartial, he is kingly (universal).
Being kingly, he is one with Nature.
Being one with Nature, he is in accord with Tao.
Being in accord with Tao, he is everlasting,
And is free from danger throughout his lifetime.

The beginning of this chapter is the beginning of meditation for me. To begin, I seek to be empty and the best way to be empty is to be tranquil. Still and quiet all the thoughts rise up in my mind and eventually they fall away again. It is like this with all things in life. If you stay somewhere long enough you see new people come and go, events happen and stop happening.

Returning to your beginning, not geographically, but the empty peaceful mind of young children, is to return to what we are meant to be. To return to that is to return to the Tao.

If we don't, we cast about madly and make mistakes. We have troubles. This is the essence of Zen.

If we know the Tao then we know everything, and if we know all things, we are impartial. We become like the sage, who is like Heaven and Earth in Chapter 5. If we are like Heaven and Earth, then we are in agreement with Tao.

How does this mean that we are free from danger? Perhaps it means that we aren't likely to fall into the traps of greed or a selfish mind. How clever we are, to create things to alleviate our suffering and then create new things to alleviate the suffering that is caused by those inventions. When this happens we are not in accord with Nature.

Tao te Ching: 15

Of old those who were the best rulers were
subtly mysterious and profoundly penetrating;
Too deep to comprehend.
And because they cannot be comprehended,
I can only describe them arbitrarily:
Cautious, like crossing a frozen stream in the winter,
Being at a loss, like one fearing danger on all sides,
Reserved, like one visiting,
Supple and pliant, like ice about to melt,
Genuine, like a piece of uncarved wood,
Open and broad, like a valley,
Merged and undifferentiated, like muddy water.

Who can make muddy water gradually clear through tranquility?
Who can make the still gradually come to life through activity?
He who embraces this Tao does not want to fill himself
to overflowing.
It is precicely because there is no overflowing that he
is beyond wearing out and renewal.

Who are these of old? There are two words for ruler here, one uses shih which means ruler. Other translations put Tao here. That gives me context to believe that we are talking of older rulers that followed the Tao. That they are subtle and profound adds to that, and perhaps because of that, this translation used shih.

Yet these rulers were much like us in other ways. They were cautious, hesitant, and reserved, but yet they were genuine and open as well. It is only by applying the Tao that their waters settled and the precipitates fell away. It is only by applying the Tao that their activity brings life.

So we can do the same, says Lao Tzu. The tranquility reminds me of meditating, at the moment that has so gradually crept upon me that I do not notice that my distractions have likewise precipitated away many moments before.

Again, we also come to the not overflowing, as in Chapter 9. This reminds me of the middle way in Buddhism.

Tao te Ching: 14

We look at it and do not see it;
Its name is The Invisible.
We listen to it and do not hear it;
Its name is The Inaudible.
We touch it and do not find it;
Its name is The Subtle (formless).
These three cannot be further inquired into,
And hence merge into one.
Going up high, it is not bright, and coming down low, it is not dark.
Infinite and boundless, it cannot be given any name;
It reverts to nothingness.
This is called shape without shape,
Form (hsiang) without object.
It is The Vague and Elusive.
Meet it and you will not see its head.
Follow it and you will not see its back.
Hold on to the Tao of old in order to master the things of the present.
From this one may know the primeval beginning [of the universe].
This is called the bond of Tao.

Finally we come back to subtlety, something we first touched upon in chapter 1. The Tao is something that we cannot see, hear, or touch—but it is still there. We simply cannot know more about it. This is because it is Nameless, and if we start naming, measuring and quantifying, we create all the little things under Heaven and Earth.

If you elevate the Tao, it isn't any brighter and if you use it every day, it isn't any the worse for wear. Many chapters have touched upon the idea that the Tao is a tool that can be used without depletion. Here we see that it isn't any more useful or visible if we elevate it.

Hsiang is interesting. Here it means form, but it is deeper than that. Hsiang is a physical manifestation of nature. Hsiang is used in it's traditional sense here, so that it means feature, appearance or form. So this form without object is the ultimate subtlety because we have many ways to describe it, but there isn't any "thing" there to describe. Taoists found this to be much more important than any manifestations of the Tao.

How different this is from Confucianism! In Confucianism, manifestations are key. They said there is nothing more manifest than the hidden (which we take to mean subtle here), and in The Mean, they say that a man who knows the subtle can enter into virtue.

The Neo-Confucianists took another turn and said there was no difference. In The Complete Works of the Two Ch'engs, Ch'eng I says "Substance and function come from the same source, and there is no gap between the manifest and the hidden." This is taken from the I chuan's preface. The Buddhists said much the same, but I haven't found the actual text on that. It may be in a book that I didn't bring to lunch.

Tao te Ching: 13

Be apprehensive when receiving favor or disgrace.
Regard great trouble as seriously as you regard your body.
What is meant by being apprehensive when receiving favor or disgrace?
Favor is considered inferior.
Be apprehensive when you receive them and also be apprehensive when you lose them.
This is what is meant by being apprehensive when receiving favor or disgrace.
What does it mean to regard great trouble as seriously as you regard the body?
The reason why I have great trouble is that I have a body (and am attached to it).
If I have no body,
What trouble could I have?
Therefore he who values the world as his body may be entrusted with the empire.
He who loves the world as his body may be entrusted with the empire.

 This is another chapter that speaks to me. This is a hard one for me to voice my thoughts on because it clicks with me on a level that is difficult to articulate. I'll start by saying that I've seen some translations that say "Disgrace is considered inferior," and I don't think it makes a difference which is actually there. Favor with one is usually disgrace with another and vice versa.

Watch the favor though! If you are in good graces with your boss or your leader, you can surely lose those good graces just as easily. Not only that, if you are spoken well of and talked up, it increases the demands others will want to make on you. This encourages their own ambition and cunning. Not only that, it may inflate your own sense of esteem and inspire you to dismiss hsü and begin to scheme for yourself.

Most importantly, the leader who gives favor or disgrace is not a sage and does not rule with wu-wei. Lao Tzu already explains why this is important in chapter 3.

The second half is as humorous as it is true. I laugh when I read it, or at least I quirk my lips in a wry sort of grin. Can't you see a comic saying, "If I have no body, what trouble could I have?" Still, this has aspects of stewardship and even environmentalism (in a very early 21^st century context) in it. We value our body and our health, even if we put it at risk by not exercising, eating terrible food, and practicing vices. One only has to become ill or be involved in an accident to realize how important our body is to us. We do value it, at least for the moment. Perhaps later we will forget again.

So the one who truly values his world as we value our body can be trusted with it.

I want to say more, but much talk destroys truth.

Tao te Ching: 12

What is it like outside? Charcoal gray clouds low against a blue sky that is violet high above. There is a light breeze, cool and redolent with plants and moisture.

The five colors cause one's eyes to be blind.
The five tones cause one's ears to be deaf.
The five flavors cause one's palate to be spoiled.
Racing and hunting cause one's mind to be mad.
Goods that are hard to get injure one's activities.
For this reason the sage is concerned with the belly and not the eyes,
Therefore he rejects the one but accepts the other.

The number five interests me here. It is for purely cultural reasons. The western world has used a seven note scale that repeats at the octave for hundreds of years. We have used others though. This interested me and I found that the Greeks, Scots, and others in the west used pentatonic scales as well. What about the five colors? I can see three easily enough: red, green and blue-violet. We use them a lot. When we paint, we use yellow for green. Pantone uses six colors. A magazine uses cyan, magenta, yellow, and black. So perhaps the five are red, yellow, blue, white, and black?

The five flavors interested me because those I am already familiar with. There is sweet, sour, bitter, salty, and savory, though we never learned about savory when I was growing up. There is a cultural disconnect for me in this chapter, but I think it is the mark of an amazing writer that it still shows so much relevance. Despite the numbers, I have no doubt what Lao Tzu means.

Over stimulating your senses causes those senses to be less acute. Surround yourself with beauty and you will hardly notice it. Racing and hunting are things we still do today, but we could simply put television and World of Warcraft in for those things and the meaning would be clear. Obsessive hobbies slowly drive us mad. The mind races. It locks itself into this world and refuses to come out.

Have you ever known a collector? Someone who has to have every single one of the Fleer 1994 X-Men trading cards, all stock parts on a limited edition automobile, or simply every Pokemon? When you spend all your time collecting hard to acquire things, nothing else gets done. It is always expensive: sometimes in time and sometimes in money, but very often in both.

So the sage puts away the senses, beauty, intense hobbies, and collecting things. All of these would cause him to strive. With these things he has no hsü and by trying he has no wu-wei. The belly is what we need to survive. At the end of a seven course meal or a bland stew of potatoes, all that matters is that your belly is full. What did you eat for breakfast on Monday three weeks ago? Does it matter now? Why did it matter then?

Tao te Ching: 11

Thirty spokes are united around the hub to make a wheel,
But it is on its non-being that the utility of the carriage depends.
Clay is molded to form a utensil,
But it is on its non-being that the utility of the utensil depends.
Doors and windows aer cut out to make a room,
But it is on its non-being that the utility of the room depends.
Therefore turn being into advantage, and turn non-being into utility.

This chapter is the reason I started this blog. I was stunned by the implications of this chapter. Selah. Pause and consider.

When we think of a wheel, we might think of the ancient prototype of a wheel: a stone disk with an axle through it. It is a very Flintstone's image, but primitive carts were made exactly so, though usually out of wood. But when we think of a wheel now, we probably think of something with a hub and a rim with spokes connecting the two. Imagine a bicycle wheel.

Lao Tzu says that these spokes are united around the hub to make a wheel. So we have a wheel. It is here in our hands, and good for us. This is an advantageous thing to have. But why is it advantageous? A wheel helps us do work. It makes it easier to move things. How does the wheel work? We have a hole in the center for an axle. The non-being (the hole for the axle) makes the wheel useful. A wheel with spokes is more resistant to damage than a solid wheel is and it is certainly eaily mended. Were I to drive a solid wheel, at speed and with weight upon it, over a harder rock, it would simply crack or chip. Eventually this would destroy the wheel and a new one would have to be made. Yet, it might only damage the rim or a few spokes and therefore a spoked wheel could be replaced.

What is the difference between a fork and a spoon and a knife? The fork has tines, where a spoon has none. These tines, defined because of the gap between each, allow us to spear our food and eat it. It holds the food more securely than a knife because there are many tines rather than a sharp point. The spoon has a bowl, defined by the absence of wood or metal in the center, so that liquid or soft food may be held. It has no sharp edges and we may use it to put food into our mouths. The knife has a sharp edge and this is useful for cutting. The material removed from the edge makes it sharp, or perhaps serrated, and this lack makes it more useful.

What is a room without windows and doors but a box? One cannot use it because nothing can enter and nothing can leave.

Once you understand this, it will never leave you.

Tao te Ching: 10

Can you keep the spritit and embrace the One without departing from them?
Can you concentrate your vital force (ch'i) and achieve the highest degree of weakness like an infant?
Can you clean and purify your profound insight so it will be spotless?
Can you love the people and govern the state without knowledge (cunning)?
Can you play the role of the female in the opening and closing of the gates of Heaven?
Can you understand all and penetrate all without taking any action?
To produce things and rear them,
To produce, but not to take possession of them,
To act, but not to rely on one's own ability,
To lead them, but not to master them—
This is called profound and secret virtue (hsüan-te).

Don't think about pink elephants.

It is difficult, isn't it? Yet that is exactly what it means to embrace Tao without departing from them. One must be mindful of Tao without trying to be exactly that. It can't be a goal to strive for, because we lose wu-wei and become cunning.

I think it's also important to note that ch'i here means vital force. Mencius makes use of this term as well, but let me try to explain what I think it means here. Ch'i and li are opposites and compliments. Li is propriety. It is a ritual or good conduct. Ch'i is matter, energy, or action. Chinese philosophers didn't seem to make much of a distinction between matter and energy it seems. This is remarkably prescient, because it makes me think of our own modern physics. By virtue of E=mc², we have a way to translate between matter and energy. In fact, there appears to be little to no difference between the states on the quantum scale. Lao Tzu asks if we can concentrate our ch'i, our essence and our physical being, to achieve a high degree of weakness.

Why would we want to be weak? Water is undeniably weak when sitting in a puddle, yet a torrent of it will erode a mountain into a canyon, and freezing it will shatter the strongest stone. Can we be like water, Lao Tzu wants to know.

Can we be without our preconceptions and our desires and our goals so that we can see things as they truly are? Can we rule with wu-wei and keep our kingdom hsü? Can we dwell within the low and not aspire to great heights, but instead welcome in the things that must be done.

Can you do this without trying to do this?

He then says what must be done. Disclaimer: I'm not a parent. Doesn't his steps sound like the steps an ideal parent should take? Remember, the translator uses the phrase "to rely on one's own ability," and while that's fine, I still think the alternate translation "to not expect any reward" as in Chapter 2 is more appropriate.

So Lao Tzu says that if you can produce things and nurture them, without taking posession of them or trying to control them, but instead leading them to grow without thought of reward, then this is called hsüan-te.

Hsüan-te is a combination of hsüan, which means profound or mysterious, and te which means virtue. Te crops up again and again in eastern philosophy. Virtue often means moral character, but within Taoism it means something more: the Tao inherent in a thing. So hsüan-te is a profound or mysterious virtue that has the Tao inherent within it.

Tao te Ching: 9

To hold and to fill to overflowing
Is not as good as to stop in time.
Sharpen a sword-edge to its very sharpest,
And the (edge) will not last long.
When gold and jade fill your hall,
You will not be able to keep them.
To be be proud with honor and wealth
Is to cause one's own downfall.
Withdraw as soon as your work is done.
Such is Heaven's Way.

This is very practical advice at the beginning. When filling a cup with water, it is better to stop before it overflows rather than waste the water. Sharpening a knife to a razor's keenness means that it will fail soon, especially if you use that knife for tasks like butchering. Bones and gristle will fold the thin edge over, and those burrs are hard to work out.

The second set is for the sage, though we all take its meaning. If you build something magnificent, then others will want it. I suppose it could also mean that if you went for extravagance, eventually even you could not afford it, but that's a harder one to wrap my head around. It doesn't make it less true, but I don't think it is what Lao Tzu is aiming for. If that gold and jade can be taken, if your power can wane, than your pride in yourself and these things can also be taken or can wane. So do your work and then withdraw.

The translator Chan makes an interesting note in the margins:  "Note that one should withdraw only after his work is done. The Taoist way of life is not that of a hermit" I couldn't agree more. He also points out that Mencius even makes reference in Mencius 2A:2 "to withdraw quickly from office when it was proper to do so" to leaving when the work is done. I think this is interesting because chapter 5 is such a strong rebuke of Confucianism.

The ending seems odd, because Heaven is eternal, but we will address this more in chapter 23. That is one of my favorite chapters in the entire book, and I look forward to sharing it.

Tao te Ching: 8

What is it like outside? Blue skies fade to white haze on the horizon, and green trees in yellow sun slowly lose the verdant color of their youth in the cool still air.

The best (man) is like water.
Water is good; it benefits all things and does not compete with them.
It dwells in (lowly) places that all disdain.
This is why it is so near to Tao.
[The best man] in his dwelling loves the earth.
In his heart, he loves what is profound.
In his associations, he loves humanity.
In his words, he loves faithfulness.
In government, he loves order.
In handling affairs, he loves competence.
In his activities, he loves timeliness.
It is because he does not compete that he is without reproach.

 This is one of the most profound chapters I know of in the Tao te Ching. In fact, I think it is the simplicity of it that makes it so profound. Wu-wei? Perhaps. Wu-wei in writing is an interesting idea. I would like it to be true.


The second line sets up the entire chapter. Water is one of the repeating symbols of the Tao, just like the image of the female. Birthing and giving, benefiting all things and seeking the low, earthy places instead of aspiring to great heights, are wonderful virtues. Yet, I don't think this means that a hypothetical planet of Taoists would never have developed great bridges, or airplanes, or medical cures, or would have avoided a moonshot. Sometimes, things must be done. Their hour come round at last, as Yeats might have said.  Taoism doesn't say stay at home and farm your life away. Life still has to be lived, but with leaders that do not aspire to personal greatness and encourages the like from her people, a lot of the acrimony and greed that fills our evening news would likely be swept away.

Lao Tzu says do not compete with others, but benefit all. Love your world, love humanity (this is not jen, the virtue, but a mass of people), be faithful and true, follow order. Do things right and on time. If you do all these things, then no one can speak ill of you because what is there to speak ill of? Man is impartial like the sage, like Heaven and Earth, when he benefits all and does not compete.