MEDITATIONS: TAO TE CHING CHAPTER FIVE

nature as creation is a relentless force

the relentless constantly faces the decay of its own fruits

the sound person also relentless
faces the decay of the fruits of mankind

in the midst of this unsentimental force there exists a mysterious space
the lungs and bellows of your universe

like lungs its shape changes
like bellows its function does not occur alone

the more that it works
the more that it brings forth

and works however eloquent
exhaust the magic of the sacred space

speak not in words or labels

you can only feel it with your core and viscera

—Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching; An authentic Taoist translation. translated by John Bright-Fey

Perhaps you are familiar with the ancient alchemical symbol, the Ouroboros—the serpent eating its own tail. It is one of many archetypal symbols of nature and the unknown, and it represents the natural cycle of creation and destruction. But what is this symbol, really? Depending on your perspective, the serpent is devouring itself, swallowing its own body in an act of self-destruction. This is the classical view; however, many depictions of the Ouroboros are not so clear. It is possible to interpret the serpent not as swallowing itself, but as emerging from itself, the snake or dragon bursting forth from its own mouth in an endless cycle.

Endless. Relentless. Creation. Decay.

We should not be surprised to find nature embodied in the warmth of the sun, the nourishment of the rain, the pleasure of the breeze, the sweetness of fruit, nor in the birth of new life. Likewise, be not surprised that the natural world also takes form in starvation, predation, deprivation, disease, pestilence, exposure, and death. Anything which ceaselessly creates must make room for its new creations. Anything constant is inevitably surrounded by change, by impermanence. So too is true for man; therefore a sound man—one who walks the Tao, whose will is consistent with his own nature and the natural world without—will become conscious of mankind’s changes as their once flowing blood becomes stagnant, pooled in blown-out vessels. Social structures, institutions of culture, friend-and-family-relations—these things become corrupted, tainted over time. They must be maintained, but moreover, they must be revitalized.

Introduce into your mind a second mythological figure: this time it is the phoenix, that great bird of fire and rebirth. Fire is consumption, destruction, ash, and death, but it is also warmth, life, ambition, and light. To be reborn, the phoenix must first die, just as it is from the cinders of great forest fires that the soil is nurtured to give rise to new redwoods. Though this process is painful, and though the process cares not for you nor your suffering—unsentimental as it is—it is necessary if what could be is ever to become. This is true for nature herself, for culture and society, and most importantly, for the self—for your self.

Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, so proclaimed Nietzsche; and Epictetus demonstrates, through the example of Socrates, that sometimes even what kills you can make you immortal. This is why a human being should die and remake himself as many times as his nature will permit. The more meaningful suffering (read: responsibility) one loads voluntarily onto his shoulders, the more powerful he becomes, the more he creates—the more he self-generates! This should be contemplated: do not become possessed by the object of creation. The sacred space, the Way, is the process of self-revitalization, not the outcome nor anything that can be ascribed a name or label. It is known only by the feeling of meaning that springs forth as a consequence of orientation toward the transcendent.

From Chapter Two of the Tao Te Ching:

continuously create instead of acquiring
and enjoy what you create (Lao Tzu, translated by Bright-Fey)

Lao-tzu. “Chapter Two” and “Chapter Five”. Tao Te Ching; An Authentic Taoist Translation, translated by John Bright-Fey, Sweetwater Press, 2014. pp.10, 13