deliver all your inner confusion to the earth
and resting quietly
leave your mind undisturbed

allow all things that manifest and their roots
to assume definite shape
and move about in activity
against the backdrop of your reflective awareness
and observe these events passively with a controlled heart and
simple spirit

when these bustling shapes slow down and cease in their activity
and return to the nothingness from whence they came
you will attain a state of quietude
that is an imitation of the tao way of life
without force it occurs naturally
and is called ceaseless and faithful
it is known as the law of mundane transposition
in this state you will see yourself as you truly are
this perspective must shock you a little
or it will not be genuine as a picture of your true self

understanding this law of mundane transposition
begets tolerance of self and others

understanding tolerance of self and others
begets wisdom of self and others

understanding the wisdom of self and others
begets infinite insight into self and others

employing the insight of self and others creates resonance with
the heavens
the earth
and man

employing this resonance
creates an alignment with the tao way of life

thus aligned you will directly communicate with the miracle
and even in ordinary death will forever be a part of it

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

In mythological symbolism, such as that described by Doctors Jung, Campbell, and Peterson, the earth is an archetypal manifestation of the unconscious—and all those symbols associated with it: Nature, chaos, the unknown, yin, the feminine, and the shadow. Confusion, rage, mania, and deep sorrow—emotions in general—are all effects of our unconscious. They are titans which rise like monsters out of the earth; and like monsters, in the earth they may be laid back to rest.

But how does one slay these demons? Emotions strike subtlety, and without a corporeal form which one can grasp hold of. They possess men like evil spirits—and so they must be met via the spirit, the mind.

If one wants to cleanse himself of such possession, the first step is to stride out from the darkness. He must not rush in boldly like a knight lancing a basilisk. That will only spell disaster, like trying to clean oneself by bathing in a muddy puddle. Instead, he must step back and allow the monsters their home underground. He must abandon his notion of conquest and control. Emotions are ghosts, beguiling and phantasmal. They cannot be killed, detained, imprisoned, or captured—only named.

That is the second step. After one has stepped back and relinquished control of his emotions then he can finally become an observer of them. He can see them for what they are rather than as vague opponents or obstacles. And seeing them, he can name them—ascribe to each an identity and thereby make each a known entity. In other words, by seeing an emotion and giving it a name, a man turns it from chaotic anything into one specific, predictable thing. That which is predictable can be accounted for. That which can be accounted for can be planned around and thereby returned to the realm of irrelevance.

This is the “mundane transposition”—the self who observes himself: “an imitation of the tao way of life.”

So, to live in accord with the Tao is not only to accept externals such as Nature and the transcendent, objective reality; it is also to accept one’s internal nature. One must not WILL that his animal-self be different than his biology is arranged, though he will be tempted.

In the Shadow, as Jung called the personal unconscious, a man hides from his conscious mind all the disgusting and terrible truths about his animal-self. This is because man likes to think of himself as a god. He is not, which is why it is so shocking to see a lazy, gluttonous, greedy beast, or perhaps one which is prideful, lusty, and vicious.

But if this state of self-observation can be attained through letting go and calling things by their true names, then what awaits man? If he can successfully transpose his mind from his cavernous inner darkness and learn to forgive what he finds thereby, then he has achieved tolerance for himself. He knows he is a beast, and so he has achieved tolerance of others—for are they not beasts as well? And why should he hate someone else for that which is true of himself? And tolerating others, he can now hear their human voices. What was before the braying of animals, lowly and stupid, becomes words of wisdom. Things formerly unknown and intolerable can become incorporated into the whole of the master of this transposition. And because the Tao way of life necessarily requires conforming to that which is beyond the known, this transposition of the mind is a necessary step toward the achieving of transcendent wisdom.

In short: Separate the conscious mind from its unconscious impulses and—let them go. Observe your feelings and name the emotions. Give them form, understand them, and then make them irrelevant through self-acceptance. With practice, this tolerance can expand from yourself onto someone else, then to others in general, and then perhaps you can become able to bear listening to ideas and people whom previously you placed beneath contempt, as if you were so much better than them, as if you too are not an animal. And doing all this, your wisdom can expand beyond the borders of your current limitations. You can see your errors and the treasures hidden in plain sight. You can come closer to aligning yourself with an objective reality. You will touch upon something greater than yourself.

Lao-tzu. “Chapter Sixteen”. Tao Te Ching; An Authentic Taoist Translation, translated by John Bright-Fey, Sweetwater Press, 2014. pp.28-9