Thoughts on the Tao Te Ching 15

Poem 15

The ancient Masters were profound and subtle,

their wisdom was unfathomable.

There is no way to describe it;

all we can describe is their appearance.

They were careful 

as someone crossing an iced-over stream.

Alert as a warrior in enemy territory.

Courteous as a guest.

Fluid as melting ice.

Shapable as a block of wood.

Receptive as a valley.

Clear as a glass of water.

Do you have the patience to wait

till your mud settles and the water is clear?

Can you remain unmoving

till the right action arises by itself?

The Master doesn't seek fulfilment.

Not seeking, not expecting,

she is present, and can welcome all things.

Reflections

Image of Lao Tzu

The clarion call of the Eastern religious and spiritual systems and traditions is to "wake up!", to "become aware!" or  to "open our eyes and unblock our ears!"  Awareness is all.  Indeed, Socrates' call to his hearers to "know themselves" and not to live an "unexamined life" shares in this call to awareness to a great extent.  T.S. Eliot penned an interesting line in his great poem, The Four Quartets viz., "the sudden illumination - //We had the experience but missed the meaning" is a sentiment that shares in this common call to reflecting on our experiences or to self-reflection.  When we meditate we are learning to become aware, to wake up, to open our eyes and unblock our ears.

T. S. Eliot

To cross a stream that's covered with ice requires very careful attention to where one places one's feet.  Our author in the above Taoist poem also admits that the really aware person exercises the careful attention of a warrior on enemy territory.  Such an aware person is certainly never rude or angry as s/he is "courteous as a guest." Awareness calls not just for the keen skills of observation, but for a gentleness of being, a congruence and authenticity of living that openness to all the sentient creatures of the world requires.

There is an interesting and important contrast between rigidity and fluidity brought out in the above poem.  Modern psychology notes that those who are at risk of developing health problems, both physical and mental, belong to a group of persons who have a certain characteristic of temperament, namely rigidity.  The above ancient text recognizes this fact and it says that the old Masters showed great "fluidity" or flexibility in their approach to living.  There is also the related saying from Confucius that recommends the same flexibility or fluidity that goes: "The green reed that bends in the wind is stronger than the mighty oak which breaks in a storm."  We could learn much from this simple wisdom.

Image of Confucius

When we meditate we learn slowly, indeed very slowly to still our senses and our mind.  In this regard we need much continued practice.  In doing so, we allow, as the Taoist poet says in the above  lines, "the mud to settle and the water to become clear."  However, this is no easy or quick process but one that requires our continued application to meditative practices that promote awareness.

By way of conclusion, let me invite the reader to reflectively read the above Taoist poem and let a word, phrase or line offer itself as a mantra for ten minute period of meditation.

Thoughts on the Tao Te Ching 14

Poem 14

Look, and it can't be seen.

Listen and it can't be heard.

Reach and it can't be grasped.

Above, it isn't bright.

Below, it isn't dark.

Seamless, unnameable,

it returns to the realm of nothing.

Form that includes all forms,

image without an image,

subtle, beyond all conception.

Approach it and there is no beginning;

follow it and there is no end.

You can't know it, but you can be it,

at ease in your own life.

Just realise where you come from:

this is the essence of wisdom.

Reflections

I have remarked already that the poems of the Tao Te Ching bear some little similarity to the Book of Psalms in the Old Testament.  However, they also contrast with the psalms in one major respect. Take the following quotation about wisdom from Psalm 111:10 for example: “The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom: a good understanding have all they that do his commandments: his praise endureth forever.”  Notice here that the Psalms are essentially theocentric (or God-centered) in their approach to answering the mystery with which life confronts us, while the Tao Te Ching  is essentially anthropocentric. The last two lines of the final stanza above tells us that the essence of wisdom lies not in the fear of an external power like that of God, but rather in the internal realisation of one's depth of being. This is not surprising given the more psychological or anthropocentric approach of Eastern spirituality.

The above poem is basically describing the elusiveness of the Tao.  It also indicates its ineffability and mystery by using once again that union of opposites, that tension of polarities, that balance of binaries or axis of antinomies to which I have alluded many times in these reflections.  This tension of opposites essentially, then, captures skillfully the elusiveness and ineffability of the Tao. 

Raphael's painting, "The School of Athens." Plato is the bearded central figure

"Image without an image" is paradoxical in the extreme, though it bears some little parallelism with the thought of Plato.  Plato believed that any object was but a physical representation of the abstract idea which was in a sense "more real" that the actual material thing.  For example, a physical table is a representation of the abstract idea of table (the original form). In consequence art was very much a cheap representation as it was merely a copy of a copy of the original image or idea. [Plato's theory of Forms or theory of Ideas asserts that non-material abstract (but substantial) forms (or ideas), and not the material world of change known to us through sensation, possess the highest and most fundamental kind of reality. When used in this sense, the word form or idea is often capitalized.] Image of an image we can all understand as we can a copy of a copy.  However, image without an image is working as it were in the other direction towards the original idea or form which needless to say is totally ineffable and totally indescribable.  Once again, it is worth repeating here that when we are dealing with religious, psychological and spiritual depths we put language under great strain to express them.

Thoughts on the Tao Te Ching 13

Poem 13

Success is as dangerous as failure.

Hope is as hollow as fear.

What does it mean that success is as dangerous as failure?

Whether you go up the ladder or down it,

your position is shaky.

When you stand with your two feet on the ground,

you will always keep your balance.

What does it mean that hope is as hollow as fear?

Hope and fear are both phantoms

that arise from thinking of the self.

When we don't see the self as self,

what do we have to fear?

See the world as your self.

Have faith in the way things are.

Love the world as your self;

then you can care for all things.

Reflections

These poems from the Tao Te Ching are designed to make the reader or indeed listener (as in those ancient times when these lines were written oral cultures abounded, as only the very rich or people of status were able to read) think; to snap the person into a state of wakefulness or awareness.  Koans, which can be in the form of a story, a question, a statement or even a dialogue, were traditionally used in Zen Buddhism to provoke the disciple into a deeper awareness or a keener sense of wakefulness than heretofore.  In this way, the student's progress in Zen practice was tested. To my mind, the poems in the Tao Te Ching share in that purpose, namely to test and to deepen the student's progress in wisdom. The above poem is quite koanic (if this word exists) or koan-like  in this regard. 

Objectivity

All meditative practices allow us to withdraw a considerable distance from our own ego or from our obsession with self, from our egocentricity.  If we can arrive at this stage of personal or spiritual development, we have become more objective about ourselves and are less likely on the one hand to swell up with pride when we are praised by another or on the other hand retreat in failure into gloomy despair when criticized.   In that sense we can meet success and failure in our stride and not be too overcome in either an overly positive or overly negative sense.  Another way of stating these objective sentiments would be by making the paradoxical or koanic statement that "success is a dangerous as failure."  Once again, it's a question of not clinging onto or obsessively desiring those allurements or charms of the ego.  In that sense, success can be dangerous to our discovering real happiness, which lies in discovering the real or true self that is hidden behind all the empty promises of our ego-ridden society.  Failure can be crippling to the ego and reduce it to a state of not being able to do this or that.  We want to keep the ego in a healthy place in our psyche, and we certainly don't want to cripple it.  In fact, when we learn to give it its proper place in the psyche, balanced well astride the super-ego and id, then we can function confidently in life.  We have to learn to be ruthlessly objective and never allow our failures to have any negative effect on our real and true selves.  This takes some work in both personal development and on-going meditative practice to achieve. 

Our Taoist poet tells us also that "hope can be as hollow as fear."  In other words, the poet is telling us that unfounded fear or anxiety can reduce a person to an ineffective and passive on-looker rather than an active participant in society.  Unfounded hope can be mere wishful thinking and lead us into despair.   

Stanza three is pure koan and will only yield up a little of its wisdom after meditating upon it many times.  Therefore, I am offering no explanation here, or attempted explanation even, as I have to humbly, like Socrates, admit my ignorance.  What I will do is meditate and pray on it and leave it to the great Unconscious (or God, or Meaningfulness, or the spirit of life or whatever you wish to call it) to offer up some suggestive answer.

It is also my opinion that the Taoist poet uses the "self" in two differing ways in this poem. Stanza three seems to suggest that when we go beyond the self, or beyond being preoccupied or even concerned with self that it is only then that we have nothing to fear.  Stanza four recommends, in a rather contradictory sense, that we must see all things in the world from the perspective of the self that it is only then that we can really love everything and everyone. This last stanza, then, is in the tradition of Jesus' famous command to his disciples to love their neighbour as themselves.

John Keats: 1795 - 1821

However, as we all know by now, it is in the tradition of Taoist wisdom, as it is in that of Zen Buddhism, to hold the two opposites in a polar tension or union.  Therefore, as readers of this beautiful Taoist poem, we are happy to remain in a state of what the famous ill-fated wonderful Romantic poet John Keats called "negative capability," a term he coined himself for the learnt ability in the human mind to balance opposites and hold them thus "without any irritable reaching after fact and reason." (see Negative Capability)

Conclusion:

One again, by way of conclusion, I invite the reader to read reflectively through the above Taoist lines and let a word or phrase spark a mantra for a five or ten minute meditation.

Thoughts on the Tao Te Ching 12

Poem 12

Colours blind the eye.

Sounds deafen the ear.

Flavours numb the taste.

Thoughts weaken the mind.

Desires wither the heart.

The Master observes the world

but trusts his inner vision.

He allows things to come and go.

His heart is open as the sky.

Reflections:

My father used often say that too much of anything is never good for us.  It is a truism worth repeating that moderation is possibly the best key to life in order to open up all its possibilities.  There is something in us that drives us to want more and more and more. That drive is more than likely part of our primordial instinct to survive. We all want success in life and some of us equate that with status, position in society or wealth.  One just has to take a few steps back and observe how obsessive people become about all of these things. Human beings, in building up an identity, accumulate all of the aforementioned and further a lot of our number become driven to acquire more and more.  And yet none of these things in themselves, either singly, or together necessarily brings us happiness.  Something else is needed.  Onto this scene, then, enter the various religions and spiritualities that seek to offer paths to happiness.   

Attachment and Detachment

Once again, let us return to the Second Noble Truth of Buddhism which reflects the message intended by the above Taoist poem.  This truth insists that there is a definite cause to human suffering and, that is, that all our desires and cravings are based on our ignorance of reality. This ignorance causes us to cling to the things of the world like wealth and success and all their appurtenances  as that which is truly valuable and real.  This Second Truth, also known as Samudaya, tells us that we will be hurt proportionately to the intensity of our attachment or clinging to all these things. Craving can be for sensual experiences like love, money, comfort, success, fame, power and all sorts of pleasant feelings.  Or there can be a craving for being/becoming that leads to a craving that life will continue forever, that there will be an eternal life.

The standard rendering of the Second Noble Truth is that dukkha (suffering or stress) is caused by greed or desire.  Apparently, the actual word for this desire is "tanha," but it is more accurately translated as "thirst" or "craving."  This truth is not telling us that we must give up everything we love and then go live an ascetic life in order to find happiness.  The real issue for us here is far more subtle - it is the issue of our attachment to what we desire and it is this attachment that we must learn to control because if we don't it gets us into trouble (stress or suffering). 

Trees: Newbridge House

In commenting on the above Taoist poem in a rhetorical way, we may say that more and more colours won't necessarily make our lives more colourful; more and more sounds won't necessarily add to the harmony; more and more flavours won't necessarily make the food tastier; more and more thoughts won't necessarily make the mind more intellectually profound nor will more and more desires necessarily make the heart grow fonder. 

Inner versus Outer

St Augustine tells us that he searched for God (we may use this term as a metaphor for meaning if you like) everywhere in the world, through the satisfaction of all the senses and his intellect, but finally found him within, in his own inner self or soul.  He described his way of meditating as that of "interiority." Like the Taoist poet he trusted his "inner vision." All of meditation is about going on that inner or interior journey, that journey down to the real or inner self or still point of being below or above (depending on your preferred spatial metaphor) all our agitated and agitating thoughts.

Candles: Vienna Cathedral

Openness

It is so hard to be open about things: to be open to the self, to others, to the world, to life, to the universe or to whatever is its underlying power.  And yet, that openness is the fruit of much meditation and the promise of all great traditions of spiritual practices.  The intention of this poem is that our hearts too will be "as open as the sky."

Conclusion

In these final lines, I will once again invite the reader to peruse the above poem and let any word, phrase or line strike your attention and then to use that as a mantra for a short ten minute meditation.

Namaste, Friends. 

Thoughts on the Tao Te Ching 11

Poem 11

We join spokes together in a wheel, 

but it is the centre hole

that makes the wagon move.

We shape clay into a pot,

but it is the emptiness inside

that holds whatever we want,

We hammer wood for a house,

but it is the inner space

that makes it livable.

We work with being,

but non-being is what we use.

Reflections:

Once again when it comes to the big questions of life, like the" why" of it, we are singularly at a loss, and are indeed left existentially in a chasm of doubt or in an abyss of mystery that can invite different responses according to our culture and our physical/mental make-up.  Some will respond by faith in a religious deity, others by an atheism that denies all possible design by a higher power and still others will declare their inability to be sure about what life is about at all - that position is known as agnosticism.  In between these three major options a myriad of other nuanced positions can be held.  None of us, as we grow older, will be satisfied with asking merely the "how" questions of science and digesting their rather dry bland answers alone.  We somehow desire and demand  a more appetizing and tastier meal of knowledge.  In this regard, we are in the company of the great Nobel Prize winner for Theoretical Physics, Richard Feynman who declared: "I would rather have questions that can't be answered than answers that can't be questioned!"  This statement appeals to me because it shows the thrust towards knowledge and truth which, I would argue, is at the centre of all good religious inquiry as well as that of the sciences.  I would also believe firmly in the contention of the great nineteenth century theologian and scholar, John Henry Newman, that no truth in any area of human exploration into knowledge can contradict another truth found in another area of such exploration: he declared that no truth can contradict another truth as such was axiomatic by very definition of truth in the first place.

And so we return to the paradoxes and the unity of opposites or of binaries or of polarities. I have spoken of this concept many times in the preceding posts. A partial list of such polarities would be:

• Light vs Dark
• Night vs day
• Clear vs Opaque
• Heavy vs Light
• Good vs Bad/Evil
• Rigid vs Flexible
• Emptiness vs Fullness

The poem above returns us once again to the image of the wheel which is a wonderful symbol for life which continues to persist and perdure in a cyclical sense.  The paradox at the heart of the first stanza of the above poem is worth repeating: "it is the centre hole that makes the wagon move."  This is obviously paradoxical.  I remember once, when attempting to write on the mystery of suffering as an undergraduate in philosophy and theology, coming across the image of a word carved in stone which sought to contend that the word itself exists for us in the emptiness carved from the stone.  I also remember finding an image of the word "evil" carved in stone in some book or other.  What these artists and authors were getting at is the Augustinian theory/theodicy that evil is simply a lack of the good that should be there in the first place: "MALUM EST PRIVATIO BONI."

In the second stanza above, we are presented with the image of the emptiness in the pot having the potential to hold the substance of its contents.  The potential of emptiness for fullness is also paradoxical and essentially mysterious, belonging to the sense of wonder which is the beginning of all philosophy and indeed of all knowledge.

And then we are faced with the final paradox that Being and non-Being are the major balance of opposites that we encounter in human existence.  That tension of polarities suffuses everything we do in life.  Life occurs somewhere somehow as the very energy that shoots between both those poles of Being (Life) and Death (Non-Being).  In a sense, to live is to die and mortality is central to what life essentially means.  I wrote more fully on this particular tension by way of reference to the Second Law of Thermodynamics HERE in this blog so I shan't run the risk of repeating myself ad nauseam. 

Meditating on non-being as well as being is important, and that's the reason why Buddhists place a lot of significance upon the student in search of enlightenment learning to meditate upon his/her dying and death.  Such a meditation is never in any way morose or depressing as it essentially liberates the meditator to more fully live in the "now" and to embrace the presence of his/her existence.

Conclusion: One again I invite the reader of these few words to re-read the above Taoist poem and to let a remembered word or phrase or line act as a mantra for a meditation session of say five or ten minutes.

Thoughts on the Tao Te Ching 10

Can you coax your mind from its wandering

and keep to the original oneness?

Can you let your body become

supple as a newborn child's?

Can you cleanse your inner vision

until you see nothing but light?

Can you love people and lead them

without imposing your will?

Can you deal with the most vital matters

by letting events take their course?

Can you step back from your own mind

and thus understand all things?

Giving birth and nourishing,

having without possessing,

acting with no expectations,

leading and not trying to control:

This is the supreme virtue.

Commentary/Reflections

One of the central problems experienced by the neophyte meditator is that of all the mental distractions that race through the human mind when one attempts to still it.  This is what the poet means above by his term "the wandering mind." In that field of thought called philosophy of mind, there is an interesting question: Do our thoughts think us or do we think our thoughts?  That question never really engaged me early in my life even though I had heard it discussed in that area of philosophy concerned with the nature of the mind. However, it did hit me very strongly and existentially when I had a major breakdown, or indeed a break-through really, at the age of forty - that is, at the time of the typical midlife crisis brought to a point where Yeats says, "the centre cannot hold."  It was then that I experienced my mind being literally hijacked by my thoughts.  The centre could not hold whatsoever: the hub of control had totally disintegrated and the spokes of identity had shattered and scattered into chaos.  Thoughts ran riot in my mind and there was no controlling them.  The nerve-centre of my identity, or if you like, the core of my self had undergone a meltdown.  

Good mental health essentially means that the person is on the way to establishing an identity that is individuated (Jung), integrated (Storr) or actualized (Maslow et al).  In other words the person is as fully their real or true self as is possible: metaphorically we are a series of spokes (character qualities and traits) centred around a hub called the "Real Self" rotating on a unique path. None of us probably ever reaches the acme point in that process. Spiritually, the parallel term in Eastern philosophy would be "the enlightened mind."  The poem above is as deep as can be and has many layers of meaning as the language struggles to express the spiritual quest of life. Quieting or stilling the mind is a wonderful metaphor for getting under the chaos that our unstilled mind can be.  Spiritual writers speak about the task of achieving a Still Point below that agitated surface of existence.  In the above poem, this task is expressed in the words "original oneness."  Each couplet is another way of expressing the search for this elusive Still Point.

If a true pilgrim of the way or a faithful disciple of enlightenment achieves a position of leadership s/he will be able to "love people and lead them without imposing their will."  In other words, their ego will be firmly under control and integrated into their personality. They will have no need for petty jealousies, for "getting their pound of flesh," for settling old scores, for one-up-man-ship of any kind or for any sort of micro-management.  They will be visionary leaders able to bring their staff with them while allowing everyone the freedom to grow and to succeed on their own terms without interference.  Stepping back and not wishing to control things is central to good spiritual and indeed psychological development. We all learn quite quickly that the only people we can change are ourselves, never ever anyone else.  Some of us only learn that lesson painfully and the ego-ridden person makes that mistake all too often. And so, in light of these comments, the following lines from the above poem are worth repeating and reflecting on here:

Can you deal with the most vital matters

by letting events take their course?

Can you step back from your own mind

and thus understand all things?

Another way of saying this is that the person further on the road to enlightenment is getting ever more detached from the non-essential things of life; is getting nearer to that elusive Still Point of being; that primordial state of being our Taoist poem calls "the original oneness."

Thoughts on the Tao Te Ching 9

Poem 9

Fill your bowl to the brim

and it will spill.

Keep sharpening your knife

and it will blunt.

Chase after money and security

and your heart will never unclench.

Care about people's approval

and you will be their prisoner.

Do your work, then step back.

The only path to serenity.

Commentary/Reflections

As we grow in age and wisdom, we realise that there is such an attitude as trying too hard. Search too hard for something and we will never find it.  Over-train for a race or a match or whatever and we fall short of winning.  Trying too hard reveals a certain compulsion and indeed a definite fear of failure.  While much hard work is necessary for any achievement that is worthwhile in life, overwork will spoil it in some way - perhaps even by ruining our health in the process.  Look at a skilled football player, a professional runner or swimmer and we notice a certain ease  as well as the hard work necessary for success.

There is an old Zen story that tells of a learned Professor who travels to see a famous Guru in order to find an insight into life.  The Guru welcomes the professor with great generosity and starts by asking him if he would like some tea.  The professor readily agrees and accepts a china cup and saucer while the old Guru boils the water.  The professor holds forth his cup for it to be filled when the water is boiled and the tea made, but when pouring the tea for the professor the Guru keeps pouring until the tea flows over the side of the china cup.  The professor leaps back in disgust declaring: "Why are you over-filling the cup?"  The Guru's reply is most perceptive and goes something like this: "My dear Professor, you are like the filled cup.  You are so full of your own opinions that there is no room for those of others!" This little Zen story captures a similar thought as the opening lines in the above Taoist poem.

Once again, the poem is also very much about the Second Noble Truth of Buddhism, namely that our clinging to and over-dependence on things are the main causes of suffering in life. Again, hopefully as we age and grow in wisdom we will realise that having more and more does not necessarily lead to happiness.  When we are young we want that big house or apartment, that lovely shiny car, that beautiful wife and family, success and promotion as the ego-driven world would have us desire.  If we are wise we will realise that all these things do not necessarily bring us happiness.  The above stanzas invite us to stop endlessly chasing and craving either things or success as the world would demand, and recommend that we sit back and let go, let life and let love, as it were.

Moreover, there is nothing as enslaving as doing things to achieve the approval of others. Nobody's approval is necessary to our self-esteem unless of course we are talking about a child in the family or a student at school which is a far different thing anyway.  Indeed, I have often heard  wise people say: "Nobody can ever have any power or control over you unless you give them permission to exercise it in the first place."  I suppose we only learn this wisdom as we age.

No matter what our work, it is important to have pride in it; to do it to the very best of our ability.  And yet, this Taoist poem recommends that even then we need to put some distance between ourselves and our achievements.  We have to step back from them and let them go, too.  After all, they too will pass, as will we as time will inevitably prove.

To conclude, once again I invite you to read the above poem reflectively yet again.  Any line, phrase or word that strikes you, let it act as a mantra as you meditate for five or ten minutes.

Namaste, friends.

Thoughts on the Tao Te Ching 8

Poem 8

The supreme good is like water,

which nourishes all things without trying to.

It is content with the low places that people disdain.

Thus it is like the Tao.

In dwelling, live close to the ground.

In thinking, keep to the simple.

In conflict, be fair and generous.

In governing, don't try to control.

In work, do what you enjoy.

In family life, be completely present.

When you are content to be simply yourself

and don't compare and compete,

everybody will respect you.

Commentary

Having lived for approximately the last half of the twentieth century as well as the first fifteen years of the present, one might forgive oneself for entertaining a certain psychological sophistication.  In that respect, one could forgive oneself for having thought that the above poem was written in contemporary times.  There is a freshness and modernity about the above stanzas that would lead one to believe that they were penned by a modern psychologist or psychotherapist.  Indeed, one of the major distinguishing features of Eastern spirituality  vis-à-vis its Western counterpart is its psychological profundity.  Western spirituality on the other hand is more one that falls down in awe praising the wonder of the divine revelation rather than one that explores the effects that encounter has on the personality of the believer.  Be that as it may, at the risk of generalization, I contend that Eastern spirituality to a large extent partakes of what we may term a perennial philosophical take on life that is concerned with the mental welfare of the humble follower of the path.

The first stanza above is essentially about the taming of the ego or of humankind's pride or hubris.  Our ego, unless it is tamed, will not bring us happiness or contentment.  However, when it is tamed and brought into check, it can of course bring us much happiness.  Many leaders are happy people because quite simply their egos are controlled.  Balance is a word much spoken about in spirituality, as indeed it is in psychology and psychotherapy.  The poet speaks graphically about how naturally water helps all things to grow without despising the low places.  Indeed, it naturally seeks to avoid the high places.  Here, then, it is an image of humility and yet immense power in nurturing growth and life.

The words of wisdom offered by this poem are indeed proverbial and do contain that perennial wisdom adverted to above.  Indeed, one could be reading from the Biblical book of Psalms.  We are advised to live close to the ground, or to be truly in tune with nature. Indeed, here it is interesting to mention than the etymology of the very word "human" is the Latin root "humus" which means "clay."

In thinking and indeed teaching, one should keep the thought processes clear and simple. As a teacher involved in education for some 35 years now I have been long convinced of that piece of rich advice.  When I was a university I was taught by some wise lecturers and fellow students to differentiate the true teacher/lecturer from the poor ego-ridden one by noting whether they were setting out to impress, confuse and mystify rather than inform, clarify and encourage the learner.  The next line recommends being fair and generous in conflict, an aspiration that is an ideal indeed, but somewhat depressing in reality as it would seem that most victors are neither fair nor generous as the sad history of human warring has taught us.

I especially delight in the proverbial wisdom of the line: "In governing, don't try to control." All good leaders, in my experience, have never tried to control, while the bad ones have indeed done so, thereby hurting and alienating many as well as slowing all progress down. Those who try to control are often micro-managers: those who cannot allow their staff to get on with the job without sticking their nose in.  A good leader allows his or her staff the freedom to achieve and no good boss is ever jealous of their achievements, but rather rejoices in them for he/she has allowed that person the freedom to achieve X or Y.  In that special way, the are responsible for the success of their staff.  I remember, a wonderful teacher and great Irish writer Bryan McMahon once remarking that a good teacher delights in the success of all pupils even those who will go on to outshine him intellectually and so on.

Amazingly, the piece of wisdom that recommends that we should work at what we enjoy sounds very contemporary indeed.  There is much sound wisdom in it, but few of us ever get the luxury of doing so.  The most that we can do is to get to know ourselves as deeply as possibly and avoid taking jobs that we might detest or promotions that might ruin our peace of mind.  Knowing our own strengths and playing to them is obviously the best course of action for us in life.

Once again being present to others in our family is a wonderful piece of advice that will lead to harmonious relationships.  Through meditation and other spiritual practices we learn gradually to be present (i) to ourselves, (ii) to others and (iii) to the source of life some of us dare call God.  Being present in the moment is the central recommendation of every spiritual tradition.

Finally, as I've already remarked, we could be reading a modern article in a popular psychology magazine or book when we peruse the final few lines of the above poem. Learning to be content with oneself; being able to be and to sleep with an untroubled conscience; not desiring to compete with anyone else and certainly never needing to compare oneself with others are achievements consequent on much spiritual practice and no little dedication to matters of the soul.

I will finish these few reflections with the usual recommendation to the reader of these lines to re-read the above Taoist poem and to let whatever line, phrase or word spring into your mind and then to close your eyes and use that phrase as a mantra for five or ten minutes. May you always be at peace.

Namaste,  friends.

Thoughts on the Tao Te Ching 7

Poem 7

The Tao is infinite, eternal.

Why is it eternal?

It was never born:

thus it can never die.

Why is it infinite?

It has no desires for itself;

thus it is present for all beings.

The Master stays behind;

that is why she is ahead.

She is detached from all things;

that is why she is one with them.

Because she has let go of herself,

she is perfectly fulfilled.

Commentary

The great enigmatic pre-Socratic philosopher Heraclitus (c. 535 - 475 B.C.) springs to mind immediately when I ponder this seventh poem from the Tao Te Ching. He is famous for his insistence that all life is in motion and that everything is change or flux as expressed in his famous line, known to anyone who ever studied philosophy, viz., "you cannot step into the same river twice."  Another famous phrase attributed to him comprises two words only, viz., "panta rhei" = "everything flows."  This latter Heraclitean quotation is mentioned in Plato's Cratylus.

Heraclitus, unknown artist, Sheffield Museum

Heraclitus is also renowned for his enigmatic style and paradoxical expression leading him to be called "Heraclitus the obscure."  Also, his style has been described as "wondrous," that is, in the sense in which Plato has defined the beginnings of philosophy as being in wonder. In this sense much ancient philosophy is spiritual in effect and thrust.  Hence this style of philosophizing has much in common with the spirituality and philosophy set before us in the Tao Te Ching. 

Once again, it is no surprise to learn that Heraclitus was much concerned with what I have termed in these several posts on Taoism the tension of opposites or binaries or polarities. Commentators on Heraclitus call this his predilection for the "unity of opposites," and his most famous statement in this regard is that "the path up and down is one and the same." This idea as we have seen is common to a lot of religious and spiritual traditions.

Now, our poem above is about time vs timelessness as our author mentions both infinity and eternity.  Time may be defined as the measure of change and this is where both the Tao and Heraclitus come in for my commentary here.  What does infinite mean?  All religions speak of their God as being both eternal - always having existed - and infinite - without beginning or end.  The author tells us, then, that the Tao was never born, that it existed always. He/she also describes the notion of infinity in an interesting and unusual way, viz., in that it is present for all beings consequent on its having no desires for itself.  One needs much meditation and consideration on these sentiments to tease out the possible meaning of that line. However, we are in the realm of mysticism where paradox and enigma abound.  Much of that area of study is ineffable and can only be expressed in a poetry that stretches language almost to breaking point.

Again the second stanza of the above poem is replete with paradoxes expressed by way of the "unity of opposites," e.g., "Behind" and "Ahead" and "At One" and "Detached"  at one and the same time.

Invitation to Meditate

Once again as what we are engaged with here is more a spiritual practice than an intellectual exercise it would be profitable to read the above poem again and to let a line or a word therefrom jump from the page as it were into your mind.  Then, with eyes closed, you could do worse than meditating for five or so minutes using that word or phrase as a mantra.

Namaste, friends.

Thoughts on the Tau Te Ching 6

Poem 6

The Tau is called the Great Mother

empty yet inexhaustible,

it gives birth to infinite worlds.

It is always present within you:

You can use it any way you want.

Commentary

The mother always has a central place in the life of all offspring, animal or human for obvious reasons.  Consequently, most cultures and religions have feminine gods as well as male ones. The act of physical birth is central to  life, and birthing also has its close psychological counterparts in the personality itself.  There is also a growing body of research that shows that babies in the womb feel, taste, learn, and have some level of consciousness.

The Blessed Virgin: an example of the Mother archetype

Chronic anxiety in the mother before birth can set the stage for a whole array of problems later: complications of birth, miscarriage, death, anxiety and/or depression in the child after birth and so on.  The opposite is also true, thankfully, and when a mother is feeling healthy and happy she produces the hormone oxytocin that is often called the molecule of belonging. The presence of this component creates feelings of bonding and strengthens the immunity in the baby. The message imprinted on the baby's brain through stimulated neurotransmitters communicates a sense of safety and peace, care and security. (See HERE)

Another example of the Mother Archetype

The famous psychiatrist Carl Gustav Jung invented the concept and term archetype.  In brief, an archetype may be defined as a representative model or universal example of something.  He saw them as essentially the basic elements or contents of what he termed the collective unconscious.  In essence, this means that they are symbols of abstract spiritual needs that are often projected onto other people to help individuals understand the world in which they live and grow and die.  The mother archetype that we often encounter in our dreams can be experienced as the archetypal nurturer or carer on the one hand or as a mother who abandons her child on the other - in which case the dreamer encounters an archetype with exaggerated flaws and complexes. This archetypal mother plays a dramatic part, consequently, in much storytelling, mythology and lore, and as a result also exercises an important role in psychology and psychotherapy.

Another important image associated with motherhood is that of womb which also exercises a central role in human psychological development.  It is interesting to note that the Latin word "matrix" originally meant "womb" and that it comes from the same Indo-European root that gives is the following words: "mother," and "mater" and other equivalents.  

Further, it is also interesting to note that a womb-tomb theme has been explored for instance in a recent archaeological book on the Newgrange Passage Tomb here in Ireland: Newgrange: Monument to Immortality (The Liffey Press by journalist, photographer and amateur astronomer Anthony Murphy.) In Irish archaeology we also find ancient carvings in stone called Síle na Gig (or Sheela na Gig or Sheila na Gig).  These ancient carvings are of women with exposed genitalia and are, interestingly and unusually, found in churches, usually near the doorway, and also in castles.  However, they are not erotic carvings as such as the women portrayed are old and are certainly not glamorous and some hold their genitals apart while others seem to be screaming.  Also, these Síle na Gigs are not unique to Ireland and they are also found throughout Britain, France and in some parts of Germany. One theory put forward for these carvings is that the Sheelas represent goddesses of birth and fertility and are pre-Christian artifacts in spite of their being found in churches which were in fact pre-Christian shrines or temples before they were Christianized.

Sile na Gig from Kilpeck Church (Hereford)  England

One way or another the archetype of the mother and the centrality of the image of the womb to civilization shoots through all cultures so it is not surprising to see them as being central to Taoism.  

I will finish these reflections here with a line that resonates with the above Taoist poem from the psalms of the Bible (also poems): "A prince from the day of your birth on the holy mountains; from the womb before the dawn I begot you." (Psalm 110).