Wednesday, October 26, 2016
Water is the most prominent image of the Tao in the Tao Te Ching. We saw this first in Chapter 4 where several characters used to describe the Tao had water radicals or roots. Here the chapter begins by explicitly comparing the Tao to water.
Before we talk about that, however, I want to introduce you to a character that is repeated in this chapter 9 times!
This character means good or goodness. So even though we begin with the water metaphor, keep in mind that goodness is the theme of this chapter.
The highest good is like water
Water’s goodness benefits the ten thousand things yet does not strive
It flows to places people shun
Thus is like the Tao
The goodness of water is not intentional. It is simply its nature, and so it supports all living things effortlessly. Remember that our bodies are mostly water!
The third line about flowing to places people shun is intriguing. Water flows downhill, and thus into low places. One might think of swamps or even sewers. But ultimately water flows to the greatest of all waters, the ocean. Its lowest point is its most powerful. This line reminds me of Jesus, who sat at the table with the people others rejected, and by so doing, manifested the highest goodness. In that way he was like water or like the Tao.
The next section of this chapter consists of seven lines, each one having three characters. The first character in each line is a topic character, followed by the character for goodness, and ending with a comment character.
This presents a challenge for translators who must try to understand how goodness links the topic with the comment. If you look at various translations, you will see much variation, and the central character of goodness is often obscured because the translators are trying to make this make sense in English.
So I’m going to try something different here. I’m going to just give you a word for character correspondence, and invite you to use this like you might use a zen koan, a puzzle if you will. Without trying to elaborate in English, just contemplate the topic and comment linked by goodness and see what understanding emerges. Try to get out of your head and let the meaning be whispered in your heart. There is no right or wrong, no single answer. Just an open heart and a listening spirit. Ready?
home good earth
heart good deep
associations good impartial
word good trustworthy
leadership good justice
work good competence
action good timing
Hmm, what did you think? [If you have your own copy of the Tao Te Ching, what do you think of how the translator interpreted these characters?] You might have felt some frustration because it is hard to tolerate uncertainty of meaning or understanding.
I think perhaps this is one of the greatest gifts of the Tao Te Ching. The original Chinese is full of beauty, rhythm, and poetry, much of which is lost in translation. But even in the Chinese, the meaning is not often clear. Many characters have multiple meanings, which change even more when combined with other characters. Thus, the meanings swirl like a dancing creek, escaping capture. Relaxing into the elusiveness, releasing the need to know, is how we enter the mystery.
Ursula LeGuin noted in her own interpretation that the text of the Tao Te Ching itself is like water: the poetry flows, the teaching is not forced. Just as you cannot grasp water in your hand, you cannot capture the Tao in thought or word.
Because there is no striving
Thus there is no error
Sunday, October 23, 2016
Surrender is the name of the spiritual game. ~Adyashanti
Marianne Williamson wrote about a challenging time she went through in her life. She described getting knocked to her knees over and over. Each time, she did what most of us admire and like to think that we would do. She got up. Again and again. Until she finally wondered if the message she was getting from the universe was to stay on her knees.
Our culture teaches us to keep fighting, to keep getting up, to struggle on in the face of insurmountable resistance. To never, ever give up. Surrender is for sissies.
So why is it that surrender is such an essential component, perhaps the essential component, of the spiritual path? And what does it really mean?
It doesn’t mean escaping difficulty. In the Bhagavad Gita, the warrior Arjuna is sick at heart, reluctant to fight in a great battle because he has family members on both sides of the conflict and he doesn’t want to kill his kinsmen. Krishna tells him that he is a warrior and he must fulfill his destiny by fighting in a righteous war. Surrender in this case meant bowing to the divine dictates of fate and marching into battle.
It doesn’t mean being a coward. Jesus could have saved himself but faced his trial and death with courage, surrendering to God’s will.
It doesn’t mean defeat. The Tao Te Ching teaches us that yielding is how we overcome. Gandhi and Martin Luther King Jr. modeled this wisdom with courage through their nonviolent movements to bring freedom to their people. Their surrender to the violence directed towards them didn’t just change politics, but changed people’s hearts.
It doesn’t mean not trying. When I think about surrender, I think about the efforts I made to adopt my daughter Lily. Lily grew up in an orphanage in China and by the time I met her, she was nearing the age beyond which she would be unadoptable. In fact, I was told it was already too late. But I felt an inner guidance telling me to try. So I did, and kept trying in spite of roadblocks at every turn. So where was the surrender? I knew my part was to do whatever I could, but whether she became my daughter or not was out of my control. At each step I made my peace with the outcome, whatever it turned out to be.
Surrender is hard because it asks us to transcend our fear and to trust in the basic goodness of the universe, whether it involves something as mundane as being stuck in traffic, or as grand as liberating a nation. It asks us not to give up, but to give back. To give back ourselves, not to the tyranny of another, but to the unconditional love of the divine. [Surrender, in fact, means to give back over and above – sur meaning over, and render meaning to give back.]
So, it seems, surrender is not at all for sissies. Each moment of surrender is a moment of courageous release, radical transformation, heartbreaking joy, exquisite peace, and sublime freedom.
For peace of mind, resign as general manager of the universe. ~Larry Eisenberg
Saturday, October 15, 2016
Monday, October 10, 2016
This chapter is so simple, yet profound. In it, we see the connection between the nature of the universe and our own existence.
Heaven is eternal; earth is enduring
This first line complements the first line of Chapter 6: valley spirit never dies. And it continues the images we are accumulating of the mysterious essence of Tao – empty, inexhaustible, receptive, fertile, impartial, transcendent.
This chapter, however, offers more explanation.
The reason heaven and earth are eternal and enduring
Is because they don’t exist or live for themselves
This last line can also be translated as they don’t create themselves, or are unborn – an interesting concept. With all these interpretations, there is a sense of serene infinity and harmonious existence.
The next part shifts from the universe to the individual.
Thus the sage stays behind yet is ahead
Is unattached to self yet is ever present
Without self bias or focus
Self realization can be attained
Although the origins of the Tao Te Ching are centuries before Jesus, there are unmistakable similarities in the teaching. Jesus said the last will be first, and the first will be last. He also said that those who seek to save their life will lose it, yet those who lose their life for him will find it.
This is not a teaching of self sacrifice and denial as much as it is a teaching of liberation and transcendence. Of awakening. Of coming home. The price of the ticket, from the ego’s perspective, is everything, which is what makes it seem so scary. But when we arrive, we realize that what we thought was everything was nothing at all. The ticket is free because all we give up is illusion.
Regardless of your faith beliefs and orientation, there is a universality to these teachings reflected in wisdom traditions from all corners of the globe. It’s beautiful.
Nothing real can be threatened. Nothing unreal exists. Herein lies the peace of God. ~A Course in Miracles
Tuesday, October 4, 2016
Courage is not simply one of the virtues, but the form of every virtue at the testing point. ~C. S. Lewis
I saw this quotation on a poetry post. Not a blog post, but a real poetry post in my neighborhood. I saw it as I was walking with a dear friend who will have cancer surgery next week. A testing point for sure.
Now I can’t quit thinking about it. I had always thought of courage as its own attribute. But now I see that courage doesn’t exist by itself. Courage is what transcends fear and keeps our hearts open, and an open heart allows other virtues to manifest, even in the most challenging times.
The word courage comes from Old French “corage” which in turn comes from the Latin “cor” meaning heart. Although there can be some overlap, as when first responders put themselves in danger to rescue someone, it’s not exactly the same thing as daring or boldness. Courage can also be quiet.
Courage is what allowed a little girl sitting in a restaurant with her family not only to feel compassion for the homeless man on the bench outside, but to pick up her plate and take her dinner to him.
Courage is what allowed a popular guy in high school to be kind to a girl with disabilities and ask her to the prom.
Courage is what allowed an African American demonstrator to walk up in peace and hug a police officer, and what allowed the police officer to hug him back.
Courage is what allowed the Amish community to forgive the man who came into one of their schools and shot ten little girls.
The testing point is sometimes described as the razor’s edge. It’s not comfortable, and can be risky. This is where our practice is. The Bible says it’s not hard to love someone who loves you back. But to love your enemies? That takes courage.
Can you think of some examples of testing points, from the news or your own experience, where courage became the form of virtue?
Friday, September 23, 2016
[This post is part of a series on specific chapters of the Tao Te Ching. Click here for more details on this series.]
If Chapter 5 is one of the most misunderstood chapters in the Tao Te Ching, then Chapter 6 is one of the most enigmatic. And one of the shortest. Just 26 characters, it has spawned pages of commentary. Like the blind men and the elephant, everyone sees different facets of meaning. When we can release the need to have a single, “right” meaning, when we can let the meanings swirl in mystery, then we enter the true meaning beyond words, the mystery beyond understanding. And it is beautiful.
Valley spirit never dies
The valley is the image of the female – open, receptive, fertile. The spirit energy of yin. Like the image we saw in Chapter 4 of the empty vessel that is never exhausted but always dynamic with potential, the valley sustains with unending abundance.
This is called mysterious female
The character for mysterious 玄 carries a sense of translucence, allowing light to pass through without revealing form. It also can mean dark, unknown, profound. The character for female 牝 literally means a female horse, or mare, and can also mean womb.
So these two characters can literally mean dark mare. Metaphorically, they carry forward the idea from the first line of the fertile valley, a place of gestation, the mysterious source of life.
Jonathan Star compares this valley spirit/mysterious female to Shakti, the divine feminine creative power in Hinduism, who manifests as the infinite forms in the universe. Or the ten thousand things of the Tao.
The gate of the mysterious female
Is called the origin of heaven and earth
The gate could refer to the opening of the womb, but many think it refers to the nose and mouth as the gates through which the breath passes. The Bible says that God breathed the breath of life into man, making him a “living creature.” In that sense, the breath is the origin of creation, and continues throughout our lives to connect us to where we came from.
Using the Shakti reference again, Muktananda describes her as vibrating eternally, “Brahman in the form of sound,” giving birth to everything in the universe. This vibration is like God speaking to create the world.
The character for endlessly is repeated 绵 绵 , doubling the sense of the eternal aspect of creative movement. We talked in Chapter 4 about how a Chinese character is made up in part by a root or radical. The radical of this character is the left part 丝, which means silk. The image here is of a delicate silk thread being spun and drawn out.
Used without effort
In tai chi, there is a posture called reeling silk.
The concept of moving chi throughout the body is often described as drawing the chi smoothly and consistently, like drawing a silk thread. If you jerk it or force it, the thread will break. This is also consistent with the principle of wu wei, or non-action.
So what can we learn from the poetic imagery of this chapter? I think of this chapter not so much as practical advice, but more as creating a sense of wonder, accepting life’s invitation to join in the marvel of creation.
There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle. ~Albert Einstein
Monday, September 19, 2016
Ken Kesey, renowned author and 1960s counterculture icon, led, in his later years, a quiet life in rural Oregon. When asked by an interviewer during this time what he was doing to make the world a better place, he looked out from his front porch over the fields and said, “This year I’m growing asparagus.”
This morning, someone expressed to me a feeling that I’m sure we can all relate to at least sometimes–a general sense of anxiety and despair over the world situation. If you live in the U.S. you might be feeling this closer to home in the current political climate. What can we do, he asked, to make things better?
Indeed. Just asking the question invites an overwhelming wave of helpless frustration. It is an unanswerable question.
Einstein said, “Problems cannot be solved with the same mind set that created them.” And therein lies the problem, so to speak. In our current election year, we are trying to solve through politics issues that are inherent in our political process. It won’t work. Nor will we solve through politics issues that are inherently not political.
Am I suggesting that we throw up our hands and go sulk in the corner, or start packing for Canada? Not at all. In fact, I’m not suggesting that we “do” anything in particular. I’m suggesting that we look at things differently. That we look without judgment, without seeking a solution, but rather to seek understanding, not of the world, but of ourselves.
Take me, for example. Like some, I’ve been a little distracted, okay pretty much focused, okay a lot obsessed with the evolving dynamic in this election season. And, as I watch, I see an increasing polarity of us/them separation. And as I watch more deeply, I begin to question how that might be seeping into my own life.
Where have I recently dismissed someone’s opinion, while bemoaning the lack of respect in political debate? Where have I allowed anxious thoughts to spin unchallenged in my mind, while shaking my head at the fear-stoking in speeches? Where have I tried to win, while being disgusted with the whatever-it-takes-to-win campaign strategies? Where have I walked past someone in need, while demonizing policies that seem heartless? Where have I failed to be a good steward of my resources, while I rail at the lack of commitment to environmental and financial reform? Where have I denied someone’s experience, while protesting the insensitivity of political characterizations?
So what am I doing to make the world a better place? This year, I’m growing self-awareness.