Taoism—a philosophy for fools

I’ve philosophized my way through the world’s major religions and quite a few of the minor ones. I’ve lost my faith, found my faith, and lost it again. Several times. I expected that I’d get wiser as I got older, but the opposite has occurred.

At fifty-seven I know less about God than I did at twenty-one. Back in 1969 I was teaching yoga and meditation. I could hold forth on the meaning of Indian phrases such as “Tat Tvam Asi,” thou art that. The “that” is ultimate reality. I actually believed it.

Now, as I wrote about a few days ago, I feel like I’m becoming more of a spiritual fool with every not-knowing moment. I appreciated the comments on that post, especially grayfields’ thoughts. When I hear, “you’ve given voice to my own thoughts,” I feel warm in my foolish soul.

We’re all in this together. Not that I have any idea what “this” is. Or what “together” means. Regardless, the thought rings true. Everyone is speaking someone else’s words along with his or her own.

After all my reading of mystical, religious, and philosophical literature, I’m convinced that there’s nothing new to be said. The goal isn’t fresh saying, but fresh understanding. So I gravitate toward words that stimulate an Oh, yeah! in me, a recognition that here is the way to…I don’t know what, but I sure want to be there.

That place is for me. Not anyone else. Spiritual fools tend to be communally attracted to magnets of not-knowing, though, such as Taoism. The crazy smile of the Taoist philosophy has room for many individual foolish grins. So let’s lift a cup of churchless intoxication and fail to grasp some of the wisest lines that can’t be understood.

These quotations are from “The New Lao Tzu,” Ray Grigg’s enjoyable fresh interpretation of the Tao Te Ching.
-----------------------------------
Those who know of the Tao
recognize it as great.
Why is it great?
Because it is different.
Why is it different?
Because it cannot be understood.
If it could be understood,
it would not have lasted
from the beginning of the beginning.

The wise know
they do not know;
The fools do not know
they do not know.

The Tao that can be named
is not the nameless Tao.
The Tao that can be known
is not the unknowable Tao.

Look but it cannot be seen,
so it has no form.
Listen but it cannot be heard,
so it makes no sound.
Think but it cannot be thought,
so it defies understanding

Because it cannot be discerned,
it cannot be discovered.
Because it cannot be thought,
it cannot be known.
Still it seems to be something,
a something that is everywhere
but nowhere.

How can anyone who just drifts and wonders,
who can’t even be sure of themselves,
Take seriously all these rituals,
all this herding?
It seems better just to be alone and quiet,
not belonging anywhere.
Everyone else seems eager and dutiful,
but the deeper way seems lonely and confusing.
Everyone else seems clear and definite,
but the deeper way seems dark and uncertain.

What is a person to do when being adrift at sea,
when being blown aimlessly anywhere,
seems to be a more profound calling?
When everyone else seems busy and purposeful,
what is to be done with an urge
that is confusing and lonely,
and different?

When everyone else
is guided by the affairs of people,
What is this urge
that comes from the Great Mother?

Comments

[Edward]

There is an arcane position taken by some philosophers that the Tao Te Ching represents a body of texts believed in by "Laoists," and that, having existed or not, Lao Tzu is posited as the head of a sect in China.

How disappointing, when I find that there's organized machinations behind a coherent collection of otherwise sober ideas.

Nonetheless, Taoism is as gleefully cruel as the bellows of heaven, treating all people as so many straw dogs. Yet I am relieved to be sentenced to an existence as one of the ten-thousand things.

From Chuang Tzu:
"How do I know that love of life is not a delusion after all? How do I know but that he who dreads death is not as a child who has lost his way and does not know his way home?"

As the ultimate form of philosophical judo, Taoism forces me to wield the cleaver against every knot, Gordian or not: there is no sense in wondering whether I have the cleverness or wit to untie anything. Knowledge is itself pretentious.

More from the Mister:
"Granting that you and I argue. If you get the better of me, and not I of you, are you necessarily right and I wrong? Or if I get the better of you and not you of me, am I necessarily right and you wrong? Or are we both partly right and partly wrong? Or are we both wholly right and wholly wrong? You and I cannot know this, and consequently we all live in darkness."

And it is great indeed to see all of you here!

[Rydels Lighthand]

Meh... and I'm not going to mind being poorly spoken in this context as I want my point to be clear.

In my very short faithless life, I have found this paradox to be most true: What I want to believe in, I do not. What I don't want to believe in, I cannot help but.

Though the one thing that keeps the light for me is this: Everything I have studied of religion - every different faith, sect, cult, philosophy or order I've studied - I either chose to take something from it or not, regardless if I bought in to it fully or not. Personally, I found taoism to hold the most truth in my life other than psychology, but only as an idea, not a whole way of life, but that's just me.

Though let's not count the fact that one of the several books I've studied on taoism happened to be "The Complete Idiot's Guide To: Taoism", because that's just silly.

Cheers.
-Rydels Lighthand

[casey kochmer]

The most fun thing about taoism is you can say something like:

To lose yourself is to find yourself...

and just laugh as its true and and the same time its meaningless... so you just laugh and continue to live happiliy as yourself, which means of course, tumbling about in the crazy tides of life.

Taoism is just what you make it to be... Thats why it makes so much sense, unless of course you are so busy trying to be something else other than yourself (which all too many people are doing in a commercial culture) then it s frustrating and confusing.

So in the comment one person said: Taoism As the ultimate form of philosophical judo, Taoism forces me to wield the cleaver against every knot,

in all seriousness no. a Taoist first will laugh at the knot. Maybe to walk away from it as the knot is meaningless to the moment. Or if in a hurry to use the cleaver, or if needing amusing to spend some time playing with it since it amuses you to do so.

Westerners see a knot... and think oh we have to untie it as its in my way now and if not now it will be later in my way so lets take care if it.. A Taoist will see a knot amd say "Knot" and will not give it another thought unless its critical in the moment to do so.

peace
Casey
A Personal Tao

[Edward]

Cleaver haiku:

counting out shadows
kingfisher wants all five trout:
now, no choice -- belly!