MEDITATIONS: TAO TE CHING CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
indulged fascination of thoughts
your own
revealed as words of one
disturb the fabric
disturb the gifts
of these singular moments
of quintessence revealed
for speech is a blessing if managed
to yourself and others
the same speech is a curse if not managed
to yourself and others
words that intrude will damage essence and vitality
the core of both the speaker and the witness
will be harmed when the event is filled
not-intruding is the natural way of optimistic tao nature
for tao nature tao speaks not in tao words
having no-thing to say
it can say everything
and does
expressive tao nature rises in a continuous stream that moves
across the land
but it must exhaust itself as part of the natural order
and give support and rest to the receptive side of existence
for everything has its own time, place, and duration
yet all of the force that manifests in our experience
comes from an earth
with heaven standing at its center
as we stand in the middle of it
it is best that we acquiesce to the truth of it
as well as the truth of our own humanity
holding life in this manner reveals the simplicity of the best approach
pattern your way if living after the tao source of life and you will
begin to perceive it
and it will be directed accordingly
but allow confusion into your life and you will be disassociated
accordingly
proper alignment with the tao way of life
begets resonance with the tao source of life
proper alignment with the strength and character of the tao source of life
begets resonance with the character of the tao way of life
alignment with confusion beget dissonance with both the path and its characteristics
it is at this point you will be separated from the middle position
you will be lost between heaven and earth
—Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching; An authentic Taoist translation. translated by John Bright-Fey
In the words of Judge Holden of Cormac McCarthy’s Blood Meridian, “Words are things.” How we decide to ascribe labels determines the conceptual borders between one thing and another. Give a thing a name or definition, and within your mind you’ve spoken that thing into existence—but only in your mind of course. However, thoughts are sufficient cause for action, and we are agents, beings that act. Unless we accept a slow and painful death of starvation and exposure, we must act, and what actions we choose will be informed by our map, our model of the world.
That is how mere words and labels become manifest, but as we discussed, those manifestations are born of intangible and perhaps arbitrary thoughts. Arbitrary, indulgent, ideological, escapist-fantasy noise. A map of meaning drawn from such chaos will not correspond with reality. Furthermore, it will drown out any genuine wisdom; for wisdom is born from the acknowledgment of our necessary ignorance. To assume that our current conceptions are accurate is the presupposition of correctness. It is the archetypal arrogance of the tyrannical king—a form of senility that inhibits new learning.
So when Lao-tzu argues, “speech is a blessing if managed,” and “a curse if not managed,” we now understand what he is trying to express. It only makes sense to describe our personal, indulgent delusions as an “intrusion.” They are taking the place wisdom could have occupied and are leading us astray even from our self-defined ambitions. They lead to a kind of unnatural, or perhaps Anti-Nature, disposition toward the world that can only hurt the individual, as well as those who said individual interacts with.
As opposed to this, the Tao way is not informed by ideology. By definition, it is that which cannot be known, that which cannot be contained by words or labels. It is the universe-in-itself. It is the objective world—i.e. the world in front of us and not the one in our heads. Rather than projecting fantasy onto what is and drawing a map from that, living the Tao way of life is to allow the map to reveal itself. Without intruding with our own thoughts, we can become as empty vessels. We can empty our cups and allow the natural optimism of the Tao to fill our consciousnesses. This is what is so often meant by “seeing without looking.” It is what Nietzsche meant when he said that philosophy ought to be “life-affirming.” We are at our best when we make our models to reflect how life truly is, so love your fate—Amor Fati—and thereby actualize that latent potential in you, in us.
This is how purpose is found, through allowing our eyes and ears to become clear of self-imposed illusions. We each have a role, and if we play our parts—parts that only each individual can play, here and now, because the wheel of time turns ever onward, and the nature of the universe is change—then each of us can manifest just a little more of our better selves.
When Lao-tzu says, “the force that manifests in our experience / comes from an earth / with heaven standing at its center,” he is referring to what Jung called archetype of the Self—that which is both the combination of conscious and unconscious elements in an individual as well as that higher potential buried deep within the Collective Unconscious (i.e. inherited instincts). Symbolically, the earth is the feminine, the natural, the place of emerging life and submerging death; like large bodies of water, it represents the unknown, unconscious aspect of ourselves in the midst of which “heaven” resides—read our higher, potential archetype of the Self.
That is why it is best to acquiesce. Accept your humanity and what that means for your place in the world, and the Path will begin to reveal itself to you. As you walk in line with the Tao, your map will match accordingly, and you’ll move in time and rhythm with the constantly changing transcendent reality. Your characteristic will come to reflect the Tao source of life as it makes its impression on you; thereby, you fit into your place in the universe.
But if you choose fantasy and delusion, if we instead prefer our forgone conclusions about life, good, and fairness, what then? It is not without consequence. For there are monsters in the dark of each of our unconsciousnesses. The devil lives in us, you might say; and even John Milton’s Lucifer of Paradise Lost was afraid of those primordial beings as he flew from Pandemonium across the abyss. He was afraid despite his perceived immortality, because there are fates worse than death. Perhaps he was afraid he’d be lost forever?
Lao-tzu. “Chapter Twenty-Three”. Tao Te Ching; An Authentic Taoist Translation, translated by John Bright-Fey, Sweetwater Press, 2014. p.44-5
