In View: Taoism
The Tao that can be told
is not the eternal Tao
The name that can be named
is not the eternal Name.The unnamable is the eternally real.
Naming is the origin
of all particular things.Free from desire, you realize the mystery.
Caught in desire, you see only the manifestations.1
The opening lines of Taoism’s foundational text, the Tao Te Ching, are as poetic as they are philosophical. We can only grasp how profound these lines really are, however, once we have some understanding of Taoism’s key ideas.
First and foremost: the Tao, the very heart of Taoism. Commonly translated simply as ‘the way of things’ or ‘the path’, it is an incredibly rich notion with metaphysical as well as ethical implications. The Tao is the source and foundation of all reality and knowledge. It is how nature expresses itself and everything follows in its course. The Tao is eternal and ineffable, meaning that although the Tao is the source of all knowing, any attempt to know the Tao itself is doomed to fail. The Tao is beyond description; no words can ever fully capture it. The Taoists thus believe that the deepest truths can never be articulated.
If this sounds obscure, it may help to think of the Tao analogously as water. The flow of water down the stream, like the Tao, is entirely natural and spontaneous – nobody is ‘doing’ the flowing; it flows all by itself. The Taoist concept here is Ziran, or ‘by itself so’. Ziran is used to describe how nature manifests itself: there is no underlying force compelling nature into motion; instead, it expresses itself spontaneously. Water, moreover, always follows the path of least resistance. Given enough time, however, water has the power to move mountains – quite literally. In the words of the wise Winnie the Pooh, an exemplary Taoist sage:
Rivers know this: There is no hurry. We shall get there some day.2
The same is true of the Tao, manifesting change through the least amount of effort:
The Tao never does anything,
yet through it all things are done.3
This leads into another core Taoist idea – Wu Wei. It is a paradoxical term which means as much as ‘effortless action’ or ‘doing without doing’. Wu Wei describes how nature… natures – there is no active doing, yet everything gets done. No need to force or control things, simply let life run its course. Again, no Western figure embodies this insight better than Winnie the Pooh:
People say nothing is impossible, but I do nothing every day.4
If Wu Wei is starting to sound more and more like an ethical notion, that is because it is. Taoist cosmology sees humans as a microcosm of nature; hence, what is true of nature is also true of humans. As nature follows the Tao, so too does human activity. The problem, however, is that we humans get in our own way. We interfere with the Tao, the natural way of things, by clinging to our judgments, expectations and desires.5
This is not to say that these propensities are somehow unnatural – they are, after all, profoundly human. Desires are counter to the Tao only insofar as there is attachment to them or their expression is contrived. There is a time and a place to act on desires, but once that moment has passed, we should let them go. If we do not, the desires linger and start to possess our minds. Similarly, when we expect a certain outcome, we turn away from alternative futures and set ourselves up for frustration. If, instead, we let nature run its course and expect nothing, any possible future can be accommodated. Finally, when we judge, we prefer one part of nature over another, thereby inevitably separating ourselves from the Tao.
When the mind is one with nature, it has nothing to ask for. Free from judgments, expectations and desires, the mind becomes like the Tao – receptive, tranquil and empty.
Interestingly, the Taoist view on judgments applies to moral judgments as well. Taoists believe that
When people see some things as beautiful,
other things become ugly.
When people see some things as good,
other things become bad.6
The Tao doesn't take sides;
it gives birth to both good and evil. The Master doesn't take sides;
she welcomes both saints and sinners.7
Morality in its simplest form – seeing some things as good and others as evil – is a kind of selective attachment, and thereby inevitably a form of detachment. When we live according to the Tao, all manifestations of nature are embraced equally. Evil is a construct we employ to protect ourselves, but which ends up only causing discord between us and nature.
Tying this back to our opening reflection on the ineffability of the Tao, we arrive at the conclusion that conceptual thought does not chart our path to tranquility. It is, rather, a symptom of our distress. If we keep trying to solve our problems by throwing concepts at them, we are only lead further astray.
In closing, we may ask ourselves whether Taoism may offer anything of value to modern humans. After all, most Taoists texts were written thousands of years ago, in a time where living according to nature might have seemed a lot more attainable. Does the complexity of modern life not require of us to form expectations to plan ahead? Are judgments not essential to make up our minds about all that takes place around us? And how could we ever avoid getting attached to our desires, when all the media we encounter are designed to entice us?
One reply could be that it is precisely the demands of modern life that make Taoism an attractive worldview. The ideas we have discussed are potentially therapeutic to the modern mind, relentlessly bombarded with sensory stimulation. Quieting the mind may be the very remedy we long for.
Colors blind the eye.
Sounds deafen the ear.
Flavors numb the taste.
Thoughts weaken the mind.
Desires wither the heart.The Master observes the world
but trusts his inner vision.
He allows things to come and go.
His heart is open as the sky.8
Our relentless thinking combined with our frantic urge to fulfil our every desire leaves no space for our inner nature to surface, so we try to find purpose outside of ourselves. What the Taoists teach us, however, is that we are already one with nature – what we search for, then, already lies within us.
Other people have a purpose;
I alone don't know.
I drift like a wave on the ocean,
I blow as aimless as the wind.9
The truth and guidance we seek resides within us yet. Remain silent and it will speak.
Suggested Reading
Tao Te Ching, written by Lao Zi, is Taoism’s seminal text, written around 400 BCE. As the quotes above demonstrate, it is written in poetry form.
Zhuangzi, named after its author, is another core text of Taoism, and was written around the same period.
Benjamin Hoff’s The Tao of Pooh introduced the comparison between Taoism and Winnie the Pooh. It’s a great introductory text to Taoism.
Tao Te Ching, Chapter 1. All quotes are from Stephen Mitchell’s translation.
A.A. Milne, House at Pooh Corner (slightly paraphrased).
Tao Te Ching, Chapter 37
The true source of this quote is, admittedly, unknown, although it is generally attributed to Winnie the Pooh.
For the Taoists, virtue or values (Te) follow from the Tao. The title of the TaoTeChing therefore literally means the book on The Way and Virtue. Hence, the Taoist description of nature is at the same time a prescription for human action.
Tao Te Ching, Chapter 2
Tao Te Ching, Chapter 5
Tao Te Ching, Chapter 12
Tao Te Ching, Chapter 20