Tao Is the Way of the World and of Heaven, an Empty Cup That Is Always Full, a Nothing That Has Created All Things. The Old Master Lao Tzu Set Down a Series of Paradoxes That Has Added a Mystical Touch to the Thinking of Chinese Intellectuals Throughout History
Many people think of Taoism as a religion, including its own adherents. Yet Tao—or the Way—is really a philosophy, at one and the same time both an antidote and a complement to that other great Chinese philosophy, Confucianism. Where Confucianism leaves heaven to the gods and the earth to men, Taoism is mystical to the point of obscurity. This mysticism subsequently was incorporated in Chinese Buddhism and part of it was blended with Confucianism to temper the coldness of the Sage's empiricism.
Like all peoples, the Chinese are self-contradictory. Confucius expressed the strong Chinese sense of the practical. But he left little room for the powerful Chinese aesthetic drive. This is the force that Taoism has served so well. China's greatest writers and poets have been Taoists, even when they were creating in the Confucian tradition
The earliest Taoist writings are witty and replete with paradoxes that offer all things to the man who understands—or suggests forgetting the whole business of life as not very important anyway. Later Taoism was more or less taken over by those who were searching for the secret of eternal life. An interesting, off-beat philosophy was made to serve the purposes of a religion. Today's Taoism, Buddhism, and Confucianism are far from mutually exclusively. They can be pursued separately or together, even in the same temple.
As Taoism was changing institutionally, Chinese intellectuals went right on reading its basic works. They still do. This has served the creativity of the Chinese and preserved the Tao.
The fathers of Taoism are Lao Tzu, the Old Master, and Chuang Tzu. Little is known of Lao Tzu. He was supposed to have been slightly the senior of Confucius. The work attributed to him, the Lao Tzu, is a composite piece of writing that probably dates to the third century B.C. Also known as the Taote ching (The Way and Power Classic), the book sets forth a philosophy of government and way of life. The Tao is the source of all things. Tao and life can be known only mystically and by intuition. To live by Tao it is necessary to be passive and thereby to flow into the unity of the Way.
Tao creates a philosopher-king who is the antithesis of Plato's. In essence, he does not rule. He is passive, free of desire, and contemptuous of strife. He does not interfere in the lives of the people. He gives up warfare and lives in essential simplicity. In his Rousseauistic state of nature, the people live in harmony with the Tao. They are lacking in avarice and bellicosity. They are not confused by false distinctions and foolish moralities.
Tao has a happy way of being all things to all people. It can be used to defend laissez-faire or even anarchy. It can also become the fortress of the recluse and the hermit, of the man who given up the world as a bad job and turns his back on social responsibility. The second sage of Taoism, Chuang Tzu, wrote many stories about great teachers who reject honors and high positions.
The style of the Lao Tzu is different from its contemporaries. Old bits of wisdom and cryptic sayings are brought together, often in rhyme. Most of the writing is symbolic and poetic. Water is used to symbolize the weak, soft force that in the end wears away the hardest of substances. Similarly, the female figure, weak and passive, is also the creator and in the end all-powerful. Tao and life are paradox, and only in understanding this can there be a oneness with the Way.
These are selections from the Lao Tzu:
The Tao that can be told of
Is not the eternal Tao;
The name that can be named
Is not the eternal name.
Nameless, it is the origin of Heaven and earth;
Namable, it is the mother of all things.
Always nonexistent,
That we may apprehend its inner secret;
Always existent,
That we may discern its outer manifestations.
These two are the same;
Only as they manifest themselves they receive different names.
That they are the same is the mystery.
Mystery of all mysteries!
The door of all subtleties!
* * *
Therefore a sage rules his people thus:
He empties their minds,
And fills their bellies;
He weakens their ambitions,
And strengthens their bones.
He strives always to keep the people innocent of knowledge and desires, and to keep the knowing ones from meddling. By doing nothing that interferes with anything, nothing is left unregulated.
* * *
The Tao is empty.
It is used, though perhaps never full.
It is fathomless, possibly the progenitor of all things.
It blunts all sharpness,
It unties all tangles;
It is in harmony with all light,
It is one with all dust.
Deep and clear it seems forever to remain.
I do not know whose son it is,
A phenomenon that apparently preceded the Lord.
The highest good is like water. Water benefits all things generously and is without strife. It dwells in the lowly places that men disdain. Thus it comes near to the Tao.
The highest good loves the earth for its dwelling.
It loves the profound in its heart,
It loves humanity in friendship,
Sincerity in speech, order in government,
Effectiveness in deeds, timeliness in action.
Since it is without strife,
It is without reproach.
* * *
To beget, to nourish,
To beget but not to claim,
To achieve but not to cherish,
To be leader but not master—
This is called the Mystic Virtue (te).
* * *
You look at it, but it is not to be seen;
Its name is Formless.
You listen to it, but it is not to be heard;
Its name is Boundless.
You grasp it, but it is not to be held;
Its name is Bodiless.
These three elude all scrutiny,
And hence they blend and become one.
Its upper side is not bright;
Its under side is not dim.
Continuous, unceasing, and unnamable,
It reverts to nothingness.
It is called formless form, thingless image;
It is called the elusive, the evasive.
Confronting it, you do not see its face;
Following it, you do not see its back.
Yet by holding fast to this Tao of old,
You can harness the events of the present,
You can know the beginnings of the past—
Here is the essence of Tao.
* * *
Attain utmost vacuity;
Hold fast to quietude.
While the myriad things are stirring together,
I see only their return.
For luxuriantly as they grow,
Each of them will return to its root.
To return to the root is called quietude,
Which is also said to be reversion to one's destiny.
This reversion belongs with the eternal:
To know the eternal is enlightenment;
Not to know the eternal means to run blindly to disaster.
He who knows the eternal is all embracing;
He who is all-embracing is impartial,
To be impartial is to be kingly,
To be kingly is to be heavenly,
To be heavenly is to be one with the Tao,
To be one with the Tao is to endure forever.
Such a one, though his body perishes, is never exposed to danger.
* * *
It was when the Great Tao declined,
That there appeared humanity and righteousness.
It was when knowledge and intelligence arose,
That there appeared much hypocrisy.
It was when the six relations lost their harmony,
That there was talk of filial piety and paternal affection.
It was when the country fell into chaos and confusion,
That there was talk of loyalty and trustworthiness.
* * *
The expression of Vast Virtue (te)
Is derived from the Tao alone.
As to the Tao itself,
It is elusive and evasive.
Evasive, elusive,
Yet within it there are images.
Elusive, evasive,
Yet within it there are things.
Shadowy and dim,
Yet within it there is a vital force.
The vital force is very real,
And therein dwells truth.
* * *
There was something nebulous yet complete,
Born before Heaven and earth.
Silent, empty,
Self-sufficient and unchanging,
Revolving without cease and without fail,
It acts as the mother of the world.
I do not know its name,
And address it as Tao.
Attempting to give it a name, I shall call it Great.
To be great is to pass on.
To pass on is to go farther and farther away.
To go farther and farther away is to return.
Therefore Tao is great, Heaven is great, earth is great,
And the king is also great.
These are the Great Four in the universe,
And the king is one of them.
Man follows the ways of earth,
Earth follows the ways of Heaven;
Heaven follows the ways of Tao;
Tao follows the ways of itself.
* * *
He who knows the masculine but keeps to the feminine,
Becomes the ravine of the world.
Being the ravine of the world,
He dwells in constant virtue,
He returns to the state of the babe.
He who knows the white but keeps to the black,
Becomes the model of the world.
Being the model of the world,
He rests in constant virtue,
He returns to the infinite.
He who knows glory but keeps to disgrace,
Becomes the valley of the world.
Being the valley of the world,
He finds contentment in constant virtue,
He returns to the uncarved block.
The cutting up of the uncarved block results in vessels,
Which, in the hands of the sage, become officers.
Truly, "A great cutter does not cut".
The Great Tao flows everywhere:
It can go left; it can go right.
The myriad things owe their existence to it,
And it does no reject them.
When its work is accomplished,
It does not take possession.
It clothes and feeds all,
But does not pose as their master.
Ever without ambition,
It may be called small.
All things return to it as to their home,
And yet it does not pose as their master,
Therefore it may be called Great.
Because it would never claim greatness
Therefore its greatness is fully realized.
* * *
Tao invariably does nothing (wu-wei).
* * *
Reversal is the movement of the Tao;
Weakness is the use of the Tao.
All things in the world come into being from being;
Being comes into being from nonbeing.
* * *
Tao gave birth to One; One gave birth to Two; two gave birth to three; Three gave birth to all the myriad things. The myriad things carry the yin (female or negative principle) on their backs and hold the yang (male or positive principle) in their embrace, and derive their harmony from the permeation of these forces.
To be orphaned, lonely, and unworthy is what men hate, and yet these are the very names by which kings and dukes call themselves. Truly, things may increase when they are diminished, but diminish when they are increased.
What others teach I also teach: "A man of violence will come to a violent end." This I shall regard as the parent of all teachings.
* * *
To seek learning one gain day by day;
To seek the Tao one loses day by day.
Losing and yet losing some more,
Till one has reached doing nothing (wu-wei).
Do nothing and yet there is nothing that is not done.
To win the world one must attend to nothing.
When one attends to this and that,
He will not win the world.
* * *
Let there be a small country with a few inhabitants. Though there be labor-saving contrivances, the people would not use them. Let the people mind death and not migrate far. Though there be boats and carriages, there would be no occasion to ride in them. Though there be armor and weapons, there would be no occasion to display them.
Let people revert to the practice of rope-knotting (instead of writing), and be contented with their food, pleased with their clothing, satisfied with their houses, and happy with their customs. Though there be a neighboring country in sight, and the people hear each other's cocks crowing and dogs barking, they would grow old and die without having anything to do with each other.
The other principal founder of Taoism, Chuang Tzu, is supposed to have lived from 369 to 286 B.C., which makes him a contemporary of Mencius. He seems to have been a minor official at one time but to have lived most of his life as a recluse. Little is known of him. The book that bears his name probably combines his own work with that of disciples and imitators. Like Lao Tzu, this latter-day Taoist resorts to imagery, parable, and allegory. As for Tao, he is less concerned with the Way as a guide to life than as a transcendental entity. He is not so much interested in human society as with the universe beyond. Yet there is an important aspect of Chuang Tzu that was missing in his predecessor. He represents the Chinese case for the freedom of the individual.
Chuang Tzu says man must be freed of his prejudices, his narrow view of the world, his inclination to judge everything in terms of personal experience. Man is no measure of all things, as Confucius had said. He is artificial and of no importance. What matters is the everlasting, universally true Tao. Chuang Tzu is a skeptic and a relativist. His ultimate view is mystical, which makes him a Taoist. Man's experience is limited. Only Tao can know the all and guide the man who believes in Tao and thus comprehends the underlying unity of all things.
In the end Chuang Tzu demeans life to the point of glorifying death. Life is labor and death is rest; life is sickness and death is the cure. These are excerpts from the Chuang Tzu:
In the northern ocean there is a fish, called the leviathan, which is no one knows how many thousand li in size. This fish changes into a bird, called the roc, whose back spreads over no one knows how many thousand li. When the bird rouses itself and flies, its wings are as clouds, hanging over the sky. When it moves itself in the sea, it is preparing to start for the southern ocean, which is the Celestial Lake.
A man named Ch'i-hsieh was a collector of strange tales. Ch'i-hsieh said: "When the roc travels to the southern ocean, it flaps along the water for three thousand li, and then it soars upon a whirlwind to a height of ninety thousand li, for a flight lasting six months."
There is the floating air, there are the darting motes—little bits of creatures blowing one against another with their breath. We do not know whether the blue of the sky is its real color, or is simply caused by its infinite height. Whichever it is, the roc will get the same effect when it looks down from above. If there is not sufficient depth, water does not have the power to float large ships. Upset a cup of water into a depression on the mud floor and a mustard seed will float like a boat. Try to float the cup and it will stick because the water is shallow and the vessel is large. If there is not sufficient volume, wind will not have the power to support the large wings. Therefore, at the height of ninety thousand li, the roc has all the wind beneath it. Thereupon, mounting upon the wind, with the blue sky overhead, and with no obstacle in the way, it starts for the south.
The cicada and the young dove laugh at the roc, saying: "When we make an effort to get up and fly, we come to rest in the trees. Sometimes we don't get that far and so we just fall to the ground midway. What is the use of going up ninety thousand li in order to start for the south?"
He who goes to the neighborhood forest preserve takes only enough food for three meals with him and comes back with his stomach full. But he who travels a thousand li must pound his grain while he stops for the night. And he who travels a thousand Ii must supply himself with provisions for three months. What do these two little creatures know?
Small knowledge is not to be compared with great knowledge nor a short life with a long one...
* * *
Everything is its own sell; everything is something else's other. Things do not know that they are other things' other; they only know that they are themselves. Thus it is said, the other arises out of the self, just as the self arises out of the other. This is the theory that self and other give rise to each other. Besides, where there is life, there is death; and where there is death, there is life. Where there is impossibility, there is possibility; and where there is possibility, there is impossibility. It is because there is right, that there is wrong; it is because there is wrong, that there is right. This being the situation, the sages do not approach things at this level, but reflect the light of nature. Thereupon the self is also the other; the other is also the self. According to the other, there is one kind of right and wrong. But really are there such distinctions as the self and the other, or are there no such distinctions? When the self and the other lose their contrariety, there we have the very essence of the Tao. Only the essence of the Tao may occupy the center of the circle, and respond therefrom to the endless opinions from all directions ...
The possible is possible; the impossible is impossible. The Tao operates and things follow. Things are what they are called. What are they? They are what they are. They are not what they are not. Everything is what it is, and can be what it can be. There is nothing that is not something, and there is nothing that cannot be something. Therefore, for instance, a stalk and a pillar, the ugly and the beautiful, the common and the peculiar, the deceitful and the strange—by the Tao this great variety is all brought into a single unity. Division to one is construction to another; construction to one is destruction to another. Whether in construction or in destruction, all things are in the end brought into unity...
* * *
There is a limit to our life, but there is no limit to knowledge. To pursue what is unlimited with what is limited is a perilous thing. When, knowing this, we still seek to increase our knowledge, we are simply placing ourselves in peril. Shrink from fame when you do good; shrink from punishment when you do evil; pursue always the middle course...
* * *
From the point of view of the Tao... things are neither noble nor mean. From the point of view of the individual things, each considers itself noble and the others mean. From the point of view of common opinion, nobility or meanness do not depend on one's self.
From the point of view of relativity, if we call a thing great because it is greater than something else, then there is nothing in all creation which is not great. If we call a thing small because it is smaller than something else, then there is nothing which is not small. To know that the universe is but a tare-seed, and the tip of a hair is as a mountain, is to have a clear perception of relative dimensions.
From the point of view of function, if we call a thing useful when it fulfills a function, then there is nothing in all creation which is not useful. If we call a thing useless when it does not fulfill a function, then there is nothing which is not useless. To understand that east and west are mutually contrary, and yet neither can exist without the other, then we have a proper determination of function ...
* * *
Not to be encumbered with popular fashions, not to be dazzled by the display of things, not to be unfeeling toward other men, and not to be antagonistic to the multitude; to desire peace in the world for the preservation of the life of the people; to seek no more than is sufficient for nourishing oneself and others, thus setting one's heart at peace—these were some of the aspects of the system of the Tao among the ancients ...
To be impartial and nonpartisan; to be compliant and selfless; to be free from insistence and prejudice; to take things as they come; to be without worry or care; not to rely on one's wits; to accept all and mingle with all-these were some of the aspects of the system of the Tao among the ancients...
To regard essences as subtle, to regard things as coarse, to regard all measurable quantities as inadequate (representations of reality), to abide calmly and dispassionately alone with the spirits—these were some aspects of the system of the Tao among the ancients ...
Silent and formless, changing and impermanent! Are life and death one? Do I coexist with heaven and earth? Where do the spirits move? Disappearing whither, going whence, so mysteriously and suddenly? All things lie spread before me, but in none of them can be found my destiny—these are some aspects of the system of Tao among the ancients ...
Survival must be considered a partial measure of value. The Taiwan of 1967 has nearly 2,000 Taoist temples. There are about the same number of Buddhist temples and shrines. For some, Taoism is only a primitive religion to which little need be given and from which much may be asked. To others—principally intellectuals and creative artists and writers—the philosophy of Tao remains very much alive. Tao poses more questions than it answers. At times the Tao even seems to say that the questions are not worth answering. Yet for the Chinese mind, looking out at the impenetrable mysteries of life, this is often eminently reasonable and quite satisfactory.
As Socrates was discovering about the same time as Taoism was emerging, the best way to answer a question—and to teach—is by asking one. Tao combines mysticism, skepticism, and an immense amount of wisdom in a system that is basically humanitarian and good. Tao is also evidence that there are no bad Chinese philosophies—only bad students.