Shakyamuni The Buddha
Shakyamuni The Buddha was originally named Prince Siddhartha Gautama. Siddhartha means Accomplisher of Aims. After his enlightenment, he was known as Shakyamuni, Sage of the Shakya clan or The Buddha, which means simply, The Enlightened One. Siddhartha was born in 564 BC, at the foothills of present-day Lumbini, southern Nepal. He was the only son of Shuddhodana, the king of the Shakyas, and his mother Queen Mayadevi.
Queen Mayadevi, wife of King Suddhodhana, had a dream foretelling the birth of a remarkable being. In the dream a white elephant with nine tusks descended from the heaven, carrying a white lotus in its trunk, entered her body through her right armpit and rested in her womb. After a few months, during a journey through the forest of Lumbini on full moon day of May, Queen Mayadevi stopped under a Sal tree, and when she raised her arm to rest it on a branch above, the baby Prince Siddhartha emerged from her right side. He immediately took seven steps in four directions and at each place his foot touched the ground, a lotus flower appeared.
A seer told the King that his son was destined to two possible paths. He could become a great ruler, or he could refuse the throne, leave the world, and become a great spiritual teacher.
Within a week of his birth, Siddhartha's mother died. His aunt, sister to Queen Maya assumed the role of his mother. Shuddhodana his father was both delighted and fearful of the seer's predictions. The King wanted his son to grow up and assume his rule over the Shakyas. Fearful of losing his son, the King isolated Prince Siddhartha in the Royal Palace where he spent the first part of his life in luxury. The Palace shielded him from the world of suffering. The King showered Siddhartha with everything desirable, so that he would have no reason to renounce the kingdom to seek enlightenment. Siddhartha displayed talents as an athlete, artist and scholar. At age 16, he married his cousin, the Beautiful Yashodhara.
As he grew older, the prince wondered what lay beyond the palace walls. At age 29, he began exploring the outside world in the company of his chariot driver. To his shock, he saw an old man and came to know that old age is inevitable. On other occasions, he encountered a sick man and a dead body. He realized life's inevitable sufferings—old age, sickness, and death. On a fourth trip beyond the palace, he met a sadhu, an ascetic wandering mendicant, who impressed Siddhartha with his peaceful demeanor.
Upon returning to the palace Siddhartha learned of his son's birth. Despite the affluence of palace life, Siddhartha realized that he had been kept in ignorance, shielded from the realities of life. Dissatisfaction overwhelmed him causing him to abandon his wife, his child, and the comforts of the palace to seek a teacher who would enable him to transcend the sufferings of birth, old age, sickness, and death. Prince Siddhartha embarked on his journey to seek the truth, to find the ultimate cause of suffering and the way to end it. He cast aside his beautiful garments, cut his long hair, and began the life of a wandering ascetic.
Siddhartha studied under three different renowned gurus, mastering their teachings. His first guru introduced him to the stage of sphere of no-thing. His second teacher taught him to attain the sphere of neither-perception-nor-non-perception, a higher mystical state than the previous one. However, Siddhartha remained dissatisfied. He was in quest of ultimate truth, nirvana. Hence, Siddhartha practiced severe austerities and self-mortification, but he could not transcend suffering. He turned to extreme asceticism, hoping that through it he could reach his goal. For 6 years he ate a minimal diet, and he turned into a mere skeleton. Realizing that he would soon die if he continued his life of harsh asceticism, he accepted a meal of rice and honey, which a young cowherdress offered. Siddhartha's acceptance of food disillusioned some of his followers who left him in disgust. However, Siddhartha realized the necessity to avoid the extremes and the importance of the middle path. He had practiced asceticism as radically as anyone could and then renounced self-mortification for its inadequacy. After beginning the middle path, he applied himself to meditation with renewed vigor.
Vowing that he would not move until attaining enlightenment, he sat and meditated under the Bodhi Tree. The demon Lord Mara set out to foil Siddhartha's efforts to reach enlightenment, and he sent hordes of demons to attack Siddhartha as he meditated. The Buddha vanquished them. Seeing these demon armies as an illusion, Siddhartha turned their deluge of arrows into a shower of flowers. Mara summoned his three daughters and ordered them to seduce Siddhartha. Again the Siddhartha was unmoved. Finally Mara accepted defeat and withdrew.
Siddhartha's realization of the ultimate Truth unfolded in stages like a lotus unfurling its petals. In the first stage, he entered a detached calmness. In the second stage, he transcended thoughts. In the third stage, he reached a state of blissful joy. In the fourth stage, even bliss faded away leaving his mind in its clear-light state to directly perceive reality. After these realizations, he spontaneously remembered all of his past existences. He recalled tens of thousands of lives in detail as if living them again in their entirety. After forty-nine days of intensive meditation, as the morning star rose over the eastern horizon, the full moon day in the Hindu calendar of Visakha, Siddhartha attained supreme enlightenment under the Bodhi Tree. He was age 35. Because of limitless compassion, Shakyamuni Buddha shared his wisdom so that others could also discover the Middle Path to end all suffering. He propagated dharma and advocated following the Middle path between worldly attachments and extremes of self-denial.
Seven weeks after his enlightenment, the Buddha gave his first discourse on The Four Noble Truths and the Noble Eightfold Path. He spent the rest of his life teaching and guiding thousands of followers providing simple instructions for the path to freedom from suffering and development of compassion for all sentient beings. The Buddha turned 3 dharma wheels. The teachings of the Theravada, the teachings of Mahayana where he expounded the doctrine of emptiness and Vajrayana, and in the last turning of the dharma he taught tantra to 80 mahasiddhas.
After eating poison mushrooms, The Buddha entered parinirvana at the age of 81, on a full moon day of the month of Visakha, at Kushinagara. His followers positioned a couch between two sal trees in a meadow where The Buddha lay on his right side, with one leg resting on the other, mindful and self-possessed. As he lay on his death bed, he gave his final instructions. When his disciples asked how they could continue to follow his teaching after his death, he replied: "Do your best." His disciples cremated his body and scattered his remains at eight different places. Stupas were built at the eight places in honor of the Enlightened One.
After The Buddha's death his followers perpetuated his teachings. Perhaps the great propagation of Buddhism occurred under the Indian Emperor Asoka. Emperor Asoka was the grandson of Chandragupta, the founder of the Mauryan Dynasty. Asoka came to the throne circa 268 BC and died approximately 233 BC. After eight years of rule, he waged a fierce war against the kingdom of Kalinga, Orissa of today. Eventually, Asoka became horrified at the carnage that he caused, and he gave up violence and turned to Buddhism. In his efforts to propagate Buddhism, Asoka built shrines and monasteries and inscribed Buddhist teachings on rocks and pillars throughout India. He sent missionaries to countries as remote as Greece and Egypt; his own son became a monk and carried Buddhism to Sri Lanka. Despite Asoka's vigorous exertions of faith, he remained tolerant of other religions. The empire enjoyed remarkable prosperity during his reign; however, some Indian scholars contend that his policy of peace led to the downfall of the Mauryan Empire after Asoka's death.
Buddhist Theology
Buddhism developed in India in the fifth century BC, initially as a reaction against Hinduism. Buddhism contains two key Hindu concepts: Samsara and Karma. Like Hinduism, Buddhist Samsara holds that life is a series of rebirths and re-deaths in a continuous cycle. A person's actions during a life produce Karma, which determines the place and form of the next life and sometimes even succeeding lives. In Buddhism, the Wheel of Life symbolizes Samsara.
Samsara is powered by an engine prevents anyone from leaving—there is no getting off the merry-go-round while the engine turns. That engine is Karma, the cause and effect of actions. Physical, verbal and mental acts leave a residue; that residue is Karma, the accumulated effect of action that colors all further actions. Ignorance blinds us to reality. Ignorance leads us to believe that there exists a self in this ever-changing swirl. The ego-self imagines that it must struggle against anything that would threaten the ego-self. Thus belief in the ego-self causes us to expand our turf in the material world and defend ourselves against all comers. Unfortunately these thoughts and actions accumulate Karma, which powers the Wheel of Samsara. We suffer and die only to be reborn into a cycle of suffering.
Nirvana is a Sanskrit word meaning extinguish as we might extinguish a candle, or going out as a candle might do on its own. If we reach Nirvana do we cease to exist in any form? The Buddhist response — As long as a person thinks in terms of oneself, the person cannot leave Samsara and reach Nirvana. So, the question is pointless. But Buddhists do want to leave Samsara to attain Nirvana. So the question is, how? In the years since the Buddha's death three schools of thought have emerged to answer this question—the three vehicles.
In all forms of Buddhism, the realm of Samsara divides into three main levels: heaven, earth and hell. Both heaven and hell have several levels. Inhabitants of these realms occupy six different states of existence symbolized as six types of creatures: gods, humans, ogre-like asuras, animals, hungry ghosts, and demons. Beings reach the highest three realms because of their good Karma. Beings enter the lowest realms because of their bad Karma. Gods exist in the higher heavens, asuras in the lower heavens, and humans on earth. Animals dwell on earth. Hungry ghosts have such long arms that they cannot put food in their mouths. Their mouths are so tiny, that if they could place food in their mouths their large stomachs would remain empty. Hungry ghosts live between earth and hell. The demons reside in hell.
In Buddhism all humans are equal; therefore, Samsara rotates souls through the different states of being rather than through different levels of the caste system. Because Buddhism rejected the Hindu caste system, it pulled many converts from Hinduism. Eventually Hinduism underwent reform in response to Buddhism.
The human problem and its solution: Shakyamuni, the Buddha, discussed the human problem and its solution together in statement called The Four Noble Truths. The Four Noble Truths provide the Buddhist theological foundation, which differentiates Buddhism from other religions.
The first two Truths describe the problem:
Truth #1: All existence is suffering.
Truth #2: Suffering comes from desire.
Life is suffering because our desires are rarely fulfilled. In this context, suffering and desire must be considered together. By itself, suffering could refer to all kinds of misfortune, such as suffering inflicted upon us by circumstances or by other people—sickness, age, accidents, and assaults. Although these misfortunes lead to misery, they do not lead to the insidious suffering caused by unmet desire. Although illness causes discomfort, the discomfort only swells to suffering when we desire to be well. While losing a spouse causes heartache, heartache expands to suffering if we desire an exemption from personal loss. Once the problem is set up in this manner, the solution becomes apparent.
Truth #3: If people stop desiring, they will stop suffering.
The third Noble Truth is a logical deduction from the first two. Given the link between suffering and desire, we stop suffering if we cease desiring. But how can we accomplish this?
Truth #4: We can cease desire by following the Eightfold Path.
The Eight-Fold Path provides the roadmap to Nirvana. The Path's eight steps fall into three groups. First, we must believe and intend the right things. Second, we must carry out those intentions in society. Third, we must turn our minds to higher things and meditate to directly experience ultimate reality to perceive the ultimate truth.
Nirvana, the Goal of the Eight-fold Path: Nirvana means liberation, and it refers to liberation from Samsara. In many ways, the Buddhist goal of Nirvana resembles the Hindu goal of Moksha. It is the way out of Samsara, the cycle of rebirth and re-death. We can accomplish it through meditation, which requires removing ourselves from the regular activities of life. However, while Hindu's attain Moksha by realizing the unity of the cosmic essence, Buddhists reach Nirvana by extinguishing desire and eliminating suffering. Only a human can attain Nirvana. No other state of being, including that of god, can do so. While this is understandable for the three evil states of being, this seems surprising for the gods, but the gods live in such a state of bliss that they cannot conceive of suffering. Thus gods cannot comprehend the Four Noble Truths. Gods must die and be reborn in human form to attain liberation.
Impermanence and no-soul: The foundational idea of suffering has two components.
The Buddhist law of impermanence identifies the essence of samsara. It asserts that nothing remains the same—all things change. Thus existence is impermanent, and because impermanence leads to suffering, existence is suffering. Anitya is Buddhist jargon for impermanence.
Suffering’s second component, Anatman, focuses on the nature of our lives. Anatman literally means no soul. Buddhism asserts that no living being has a permanent soul. Instead, animals and humans fuse together five elements at birth. The five elements fall apart at death. They are not reborn together again. The five elements are the body, the emotions, the thoughts, the intentions, and the consciousness. We have no permanent soul that gets reborn from life to life. Thus, although Buddhism believes in reincarnation, it does not hold that any thing undergoes reincarnation. This leads to a conundrum that Buddhist monks have contemplated for millennia: What carries Karma if nothing continues from one life to another? There is no clear answer, and the Buddha refused to supply one. He believed that his job was to tell people how to make the journey to Nirvana, not to describe the details of the sights along the way. The Buddha should have known his previous lives, since all arahats reach a stage of meditation where they can know their previous lives. Using conventional reasoning, this implies that some part of a person continues from life to life, but Buddhism clearly denies the existence of a soul.
As arahats approach Nirvana they attain an understanding of non-dualism. There is no difference between subject and object, between knower and that which is known. Buddhists explain non-dualism using a candle metaphor. One way to light a candle is to touch its wick to the flame of a burning candle. Once the two candles are burning, what is the relationship between the flame of the first and the flame of the second? They are not the same flame, yet one flame caused the other. It is the same with life. The Karma of one life causes the next life, yet they are not the same life.
Enlightenment: Ignorance is the greatest cause of suffering, ignorance of the true nature of reality. The opposite of ignorance is wisdom. And true and complete prajna comes when we reach enlightenment. The Buddhists call enlightenment bodhi. The title Buddha derives from the word bodhi. The first individual to reach enlightment is called The Buddha. The root meaning of bodhi is to awaken; thus, the Buddha is the Awakened One. The rest of humanity is asleep. Enlightenment comes abruptly essentially one step before nirvana. In enlightenment, we realize the true nature of the cosmos, the link between Samsara and Nirvana. At this point we can view our past lives.
The Major Schools of Buddhism:
The Buddha never wrote down his theology; instead, he taught his disciples by speaking to them, and they memorized his teachings. After the Buddha's passing, five-hundred Arahats gathered for the First Council to keep all the teachings intact. The monks recited the Buddha's teachings and formally established the foundation of Buddhist doctrine. However as Buddhism grew and spread, the various communities interpreted the foundation doctrines differently. Around 410 BC, about 110 years after the Buddha's death, the Second Council of Vaishali convened to resolve differences among the diverse Buddhist communities. The differences were discussed and argued over, but in the end the monks could not resolve all issues, and as a result Buddhism underwent a split. Numerous early sects arose, but only Theravada remains today.
Theravada Buddhism: Of Buddhism's earliest sects only Theravada, School of the Elders, remains in practice. It is a dynamic, changing school, but holds most closely to what we know of the early teachings of Buddhism. At the Second Council of Vaishalia, the Theravadins opposed change and pursued the original teachings agreed to at the first Council following the Buddha's passing. Theravadins assert that all phenomena exist. They teach that Buddhas are men, rejecting any notion of Buddhas being transcendental.
Theravada emphasizes attaining enlightenment on our own with the Dharma as the guide. Most Theravadin scriptures come from the Pali Canon, the main collection of early Buddhist teachings. The basic teachings of the Buddha's life are the most important teachings in Theravada. The Buddha's life provides the model for leaving home and engaging in a strict but balanced meditative life, which Theravadin monks and nuns follow. Four Noble Truths, Eightfold Path, and doctrines such as impermanence, Karma, and rebirth implied in those teachings form the basis for Theravadin philosophy and practice. The Three Treasures provide a refuge for Theravada Buddhists. The Three Treasures include the Buddha, the Sangha or monastic orders, and the Dharma or religious teachings. Theravadin practice is primarily for monks and nuns, though lay people support the monasteries and temples, learn from the teachings, and highly respect the monastic life. The Vinaya contains training rules for monks and nuns. These rules provide a self-disciplined life, which helps the disciples to remain mindful of their actions and their inner desires. Introspection and awareness lead to enlightenment.
Theravadins seek to become an arahat, a person who has completed spiritual training and ended all attachments, hatred, greed, and anger. Arahats have perfectly calm minds that no longer suffer because they recognize that there is no self to be suffering. An arahat has compassion for all beings and acts spontaneously to teach and assist others. Some arahats are particularly good at teaching, while others specialize in ascetic practices or psychic states reached during meditation. They each benefit humans in ways that fit the situation at that moment. By becoming arahats, they gain release from Samsara. Released from Samsara, they pass to a state of being beyond the realm of Samsara, a state of being that has no form, no place, and no time—everywhere and nowhere, no form and all forms, everywhen and neverwas.
Mahayana Cosmic View—Same Problem, Different Solution: Mahayana, the Great Vehicle, refers to the ability of all beings, not just humans or monks, to become enlightened. Mahayana arose from several groups of teachers who focused on new sutras attributed to the Buddha: The Lotus Sutra and Perfection of Wisdom. The Perfection of Wisdom Sutra claimed to be a substitute for the body and word of the Buddha; thus, setting Mahayana up to focus on other deities. Mahayana arose partly as a reaction against the institution of Theravada, which installed monks and nuns as privileged people. Mahayana challenged Theravada with its more inclusive path. As Mahayana developed, it created a doctrinal system and rules of its own. Mahayana asserts that all sentient beings have Buddha nature, an innate ability to become a Buddha, to be enlightened. Since all things are truly without self and empty, Buddhas, people, and animals all have the same nature. This basic nature is called Buddha nature. We usually do not recognize our Buddha nature due to the layers of attachments and delusions that obstruct our clear insight. Three schools of Buddhist philosophy reside under the umbrella of Mahayana: Madyamika or Doctrine of the Middle Position, Yogacara or Yoga Practice, and Pure Land.
Madyamika Buddhism accepts most aspects of orthodox Buddhism, but it differs in believing that the enlightened are supramundane and transcendental. The enlightened have no defiling elements, and their lives and powers are infinite. While in Theravada Buddhism the enlightened are called Arahats, in Madyamika enlightened people are Bodhisattvas. Bodhisattvas are freed from the cycle of Samsara by following the teachings of the Buddha, by the cultivation of good conduct, engaging in meditation, and finding transcendental wisdom. In Theravada, Arahats pass directly into Nirvana. While in Madyamika, Bodhisattvas postpone liberation so that they can help guide other people to enlightenment. The Mahayanists consider the Theravada Arahat-concept selfish because it limits enlightenment to oneself.
Madyamika asserts that the mind's original nature is pure, but it can be contaminated by passions and defilements. Meditation provides the means of discovering the conscious mind. Consciousness is the ultimate reality. Madyamika introduced the concept of Sunyata or Emptiness or Void. All finite phenomena have relative existence, but no finite thing absolutely exists. All of existence can be reduced to a single, underlying essence, a stream of existence with an everlasting becoming. Only Void has Infinite Reality. The everyday world exists, but it is composed of finite phenomena, which lack Infinite Reality. The Void is Nirvana. The phenomenal world arises from the Infinite, so Nirvana is already present—we just need to realize it. Madyamika deemphasizes the cycle of rebirths; since, Nirvana is present. The portrayal of the Void is an important part of Chinese and Japanese art.
Madyamika Buddhism ruthlessly negates all dichotomies—good versus bad, beautiful versus ugly—to distinguish relative truth from Ultimate Truth. Relative truth derives from phenomena experienced by the senses, while the Ultimate Truth is realized through transcendent intuitive insight.
Madyamika Buddhism teaches that not only the self is non-existent, but also all things in the world are non-existent. All elements are derived from the mind. Madyamika negates phenomena through a kind of anti-logic to arrive at the ineffable absolute or Void that is the only Reality. Ultimate Truth can only be known through meditation. Buddhist scriptures occupy the realm of relative truth, and they are subject to change and constant improvement. Scriptures resemble a finger pointing at the moon. When we recognize the moon and its brightness, the finger is of no more use. As the finger has no brightness, likewise the scriptures are not sacred. The scripture is religious currency representing spiritual wealth. What scripture represents is of paramount importance, but by itself scripture is only as valuable as paper and ink.
Yogācāra provides a comprehensive, framework of the Bodhisattva path. Meditation serves as the laboratory where we study how the mind operates. Yogācāra focused on the question of consciousness from a variety of approaches, including meditation, psychological analysis, epistemology—how we know what we know, how perception operates, what validates knowledge, scholastic categorization, and Karmic analysis. Yogācāra doctrine is summarized in the term vijñapti-mātra, "nothing-but-cognition". Consciousness is not the ultimate reality or the solution; instead, consciousness is the root problem. What we think using our consciousness is really self-consciousness. The human problem emerges from ordinary mental operations, and it can only be solved by bringing those operations to an end. We are like the mythological Prince suffers amnesia and wanders his kingdom in rags, not knowing that he has everything worth having. Our consciousness leads us to seek Enlightenment, to reach Nirvana, to ascend into Heaven. Consciousness leads us to believe that Heaven is elusive, when in reality, we cannot escape it.
Mahayana Buddhism agrees with Theravada Buddhism that the human problem is suffering; it holds the Four Noble Truths as fundamental. But in Theravada Buddhism the individual strives alone on the Eight-fold Path, while Mahayana adds helpers who provide shortcuts and assistance to those who suffer. Bodhisattvas are people who have reached enlightenment, but rather than enter nirvana once they can, they help others along the same path. This simple idea has a number of ramifications for the goal of humanity.
• All humans possess the Buddha nature, and Mahayana Buddhism hopes that all humans will realize their true Buddha nature. Theravada Buddhists seek to realize their Buddha nature to gain release from samsara, but for Mahayana Buddhists, the Buddha nature is the end in itself.
• Mahayana Buddhists contend that the Buddha was a Bodhisattva. Mahayana holds that The Buddha did not just attain nirvana. When he could have extinguished his existence in Samsara, he returned to this world and taught other people how to attain the Buddha nature. Buddha's compassion for humanity motivated him to remain in this life to teach for forty years after his enlightenment. Because The Buddha used his wisdom to help others along the path toward enlightenment, he was a Bodhisattva.
• Since humans should imitate the Buddha, we should all strive to become bodhisattvas and help others. The Theravadan goal of release from samsara is too selfish, without benefit for humanity in general. By emphasizing the bodhisattva, Mahayana shows that it cares about humanity as a whole.
• Once Mahayanan Buddhists attain the Buddha nature, they can create new paths to higher awareness that can be pursued by lay people as well as monks.
The Pure Land Mahayanan denomination focuses on its laity, almost to the exclusion of interest in priests or monks. Amitabha Buddha, who was initially a monk, then a Bodhisattva, and finally attained the Buddha nature, promised that the faithful could arrive in a Pure Land. He vowed that anyone who would call on his name could enter this land. There they could remain, or after reaching the Pure Land they could continue striving for enlightenment, which would be much closer. Pure Land Buddhism provides the faithful with an easier alternative to the near-impossible goal of reaching enlightenment. Theravada Buddhism provides little opportunity for the laity to pass beyond the suffering of samsara and reach nirvana. The best they can hope for is to be born in the next life as a monk who can attain nirvana. In Pure Land Buddhism, escape from samsara and suffering is available to the laity without extensive years of monkish discipline and meditation. Individuals who enter the Pure Land may stay there forever, or they may return to human form in an advantageous birth that will enable them to reach nirvana within a lifetime.
The Mahayana Cosmos and the Nature of Buddha: Bodhisattvas can exist in two different planes, the earthly plane and the Buddha-fields. When people take the path to enlightenment, they begin in this world, the world of samsara. But once they attain enlightenment, they pass beyond Samsara's bonds. While they have not yet entered nirvana as they remain in the world to help others, they occupy the Buddha-fields between samsara and nirvana. The Buddha-fields are described in geographical terms—in the west. Poorly educated lay people often envision them literally in the west, while the monks and knowledgeable faithful understand the symbolic character of these descriptions.
The Buddha-fields contain an uncountable number of bodhisattvas and Buddhas. For just as people rise to become bodhisattvas, bodhisattvas continue striving until they reach the final stage, which is Buddha-hood, the ultimate understanding of our own Buddha nature. There are many bodhisattvas and Buddhas in the Buddha-fields that people can call upon. Here are three:
• Avalokiteshvara is the Bodhisattva of Compassion and as such symbolizes that aspect of Buddha-hood in comparison to the other key aspect of wisdom. Avalokiteshvara protects people from natural disasters and blesses children. In Pure Land Buddhism, he sits at Amitabha Buddha's right hand as his helper. In China, Kuan Yin the Bodhisattva of Compassion appears in female form. She protects children and women in childbirth. Chinese Buddhism celebrates three annual festivals commemorating aspects of Kuan Yin's life. In Tibet, Avalokiteshvara is known as Chenrezig, who is the founding father of the Tibetan people. The Dalai Lama is his reincarnate.
• The Bodhisattva of Wisdom is known as Manjushri. He is usually depicted with the Sword of Wisdom and the Prajna-Paramita Sutra. Certain great Tibetan scholars have been considered his incarnation.
• Amitabha Buddha, who established the Pure Land, began as a dedicated monk, became a bodhisattva, and finally a Buddha.
Mahayana introduces one more complication to this scheme, the nature of The Buddha himself. Mahayana envisions The Buddha as having three bodies, one in each of three realms of being: the realm of samsara, the realm of the Buddha-fields, and the ultimate reality itself. The Buddha's Dharma body corresponds to Ultimate Reality. That is, Buddha IS Ultimate Reality. Everything that truly exists is Buddha. There is no dualism. In the final analysis, there is nothing other than Buddha; all is unity, all is one thing. The Buddha takes the Bliss Body, in the Buddha-field where those who have realized their true Buddha-nature represent the Buddha. The Buddhas and Bodhisattvas take the Transformation Body when they enter the earthly realm.
Vajrayana Buddhism arose in India in the fifth and sixth centuries. Vajrayana leads to rapid enlightenment, in this body and this lifetime. Vajrayana arose from a group of texts called Tantras that described meditation and ritual techniques for advanced Mahayana practitioners. Tantric texts are said to have been taught by the Buddha to a select group of disciples, though they did not appear publicly until the seventh century. The defining features of Vajrayana are its esoteric practices. Esoteric teachings are often secret, taught by a master to a prepared initiate. Some esoteric practices use human emotion and energy in all its variety to go beyond attachments. They work in ways that seem magical or mysterious to outsiders, and they might create supernormal abilities in the practitioner. Tantric practices include: repetition of mantras and creation of and meditation on mandalas.
Vajrayana largely takes Mahayana's understanding of the cosmos, and its definition of the human problem. It differs primarily in its depiction of Cosmic Unity as the union of a duality. Vajrayana emphasizes the nature of the Buddha's Dharma Body, that the Buddha is Ultimate Reality. Samsara and Nirvana are one and the same. In Ultimate Reality Samsara and Nirvana are simultaneously diametric opposites and the same thing. Drawing upon the tantric writings, Vajrayana often represents this notion of opposites as male and female. The union of these opposites is thus depicted in sexual intercourse. Human sexuality is both a metaphor and a representation for the cosmos. To represent this union, called yab-yum, Buddhas and Bodhisattvas have both male and female aspects; similar to the way Hinduism depicts Parvati as Shiva's female aspect. For example, the male Bodhisattva Chenrezig has a female form called Tara who embodies the female aspects of compassion. Furthermore, both male and female Bodhisattvas have two forms, peaceful and wrathful. Chenrezig's wrathful form, Mahakala, protects his worshippers and mediators from harm by demons.
Vajrayana’s emphasis of the Ultimate Unity changes its solution to the human problem. While Vajrayana keeps the notion of bodhisattvas and compassion, it adds to it in important ways. Vajrayana Buddhists call their path the Diamond Vehicle to enlightenment. Like a diamond tool the path is hard and sharp, and it can lead to enlightenment in a single lifetime. Vajrayana monks work closely with a guru, a teacher, who guides them at every step of the path until they become adept. Each novice must connect to a bodhisattva to establish a life-long link. The bodhisattva will help guide toward enlightenment. To progress quickly toward enlightenment, the entire body needs exercise. Thus meditation exercises the aspirant’s hearing with mantras, vision with mandalas, movement through hand gestures called mudras and body positions. The adept may also practice sex, in imitation of cosmic unity, to enhance their wisdom and power.
The Tibetans augment Vajrayana Buddhism with a rich mythology. Images of demons enrich their art. The gap between lifetimes is a terrifying melee of demons; hence, Tibetans focus much spiritual energy preparing for the demonic fracas that they enter upon death. In the Tibetan tradition, Siddhartha Gautama is the one and only Buddha. The Tibetan tradition says that, innumerable eons ago, the Buddha-to-be happened to be born as a bull in one of the hells and was pulling a cart. He felt compassion for a weaker bull beside him and informed Yama that he would like to pull the load alone. Yama burst into a rage and killed him with his trident whereupon his soul, propelled by this act of compassion was born immediately into the Thirty-three heaven. Here he accumulated merit during three incalculable eons. Having taken birth in the Tushita heaven, the future prince Siddhartha dwelt among the gods and taught the dharma to them. Then, in the form of a radiant white elephant, the Bodhisattva entered the womb of his mother Queen Mayadevi. He transformed the womb into a celestial palace and spent ten full months there to exemplify the certain procession of the ten bodhisattva bhumis. Queen Maya dreamt that her body extended into the sky and an elephant with six tusks entered her womb. She awoke the next morning knowing she was pregnant. At birth, Siddhartha took seven steps and proclaimed "I am the leader of the world, the guide of the world. This is my final birth." Lotus sprang forth from under his feet. Thereafter, two streams flowed freely from the heavens, one warm and one cold, cleansing the mother and child.
Zen: Zen focuses on one aspect of the Mahayana cosmos, namely, the idea that everyone has the Buddha-nature, which is part of the Ultimate Reality of Buddha. Zen rejects all other aspects of Mahayana ― the Bodhisattvas, the other Buddhas, the sacred texts — and teaches its followers to concentrate and meditate to reach the true understanding of their Buddha-nature. Although Zen takes some views from Buddhism, most Zen practitioners deny that Zen is a form of Buddhism, and most Buddhists agree.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Sunday, August 31, 2008
The Tao of Chuang Tzu
The Tao of Chuang Tzu
Taoism and Confucianism are the two great philosophical traditions of China. While most Westerners trace Taoism to the Tao Te Ching written by Lao Tzu, Taoism derives at least as much from the philosopher Chuang Tzu, who lived in the 4th Century BC. Both the Tao Te Ching and the Tao of Chuang Tzu are composite texts written and rewritten over centuries with input from multiple anonymous writers. Each has a distinctive style, the Tao Te Ching poetic mysticism, the Tao of Chuang Tzu funny fantasy dialogues. Both texts flow from reflections on the nature of Tao, which was the central issue in Ancient China's philosophical dialogues. Hui Tzu had much influence on Chuang Tzu. Hui Tzu appears more often in dialogue with Chuang Tzu than any other figure, and the stories suggest a long-term philosophical interaction, a relationship between philosophical friends.
Rather than prescribing right action, the Tao of Chuang Tzu is filled with fantasy conversations among diverse individuals including millipedes, convicts, musicians, and the wind. His poetry and parables teach an essential lesson—open-minded receptivity to all the different voices of Tao. Each has insights that might be surprisingly valuable.
Chuang Tzu prefers fishing to high status and political office. Politics has no attraction for Chuang Tzu, because schemers who struggle against the Tao fall into pits that they dig for themselves. This anti-political stance is more than self-preservation. Chuang Tzu's egalitarian perspectives undermine China's Confucian authoritarianism. While Confucians assert that proper order occurs only when a society follows a single Tao, Chuang Tzu suggests that society could function just fine with people following many Tao's.
Chuang Tzu's most dramatic stories link Taoism to Zen—the mysticism of losing oneself in activity, the absorption in a highly cultivated way. His most famous example describes a butcher who carves flesh with the concentration of a dancer immersed in elegantly choreographed performance. We discover our untarnished human-nature by exercising skills with focus that reaches beyond ourselves to connect intimately with the Tao.
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A Turtle Wagging its Tail in the Mud: Chuang Tzu was fishing on the P'u River when the Prince of Ch'u sent an official to see him and said, "Our Prince desires to burden you with the administration of the Ch'u State." Chuang Tzu went on fishing without turning his head and said, "I have heard that in Ch'u there is a sacred tortoise that died when it was three thousand years old. The Prince keeps this tortoise in a chest in his ancestral temple. Now would this tortoise rather be dead and have its remains venerated, or would it rather be alive and wagging its tail in the mud?"
The official replied, "It would rather be alive, and wagging its tail in the mud."
"Leave me." cried Chuang Tzu. "I too will wag my tail in the mud."
A Screeching Crow: Hui Tzu was Prime Minister in the Liang State, and Chuang Tzu was passing through Liang on his way to a sacred mountain. Someone remarked, "Chuang Tzu has come to Liang. He wants to take over Hui Tzu's position as minister." Hui Tzu felt threatened by Chuang Tzu, and searched throughout the countryside for to find him. Hui Tzu searched for three days and three nights. Eventually Chuang Tzu found Hui Tzu, and said, "A lovely phoenix spends its winters near the South Sea. In spring it flies from the South to the Northern Mountains. During its spring migration, the phoenix does not alight except on the wu-t'ung tree. It eats nothing but the fruit of the bamboo and drinks only the purest spring water. As the phoenix flew over a barren prairie, a Crow feasting on a rotten carcass of a rat looked up and screeched at the phoenix. Are you not screeching at me over your kingdom of Liang?"
Happy Fish: Chuang Tzu and Hui Tzu strolled on to the bridge over the river Hao, when Chuang Tzu observed, "See how the small fish dart about. That is the happiness of the fish."
"You are not a fish." said Hui Tzu, "How can you know what makes a fish happy?"
"And you are not me." replied Chuang Tzu, "How can you know that I do not know what makes a fish happy?"
"If I, not being you, cannot know what you know," argued Hui Tzu, "it follows that you, not being a fish, cannot know the happiness of the fish."
"Let's return to your original question," said Chuang Tzu. "You asked me how I knew the happiness of the fish. Your very question shows that you knew that I knew. I knew it, from my own feelings, on this bridge."
The Pheasant in a Field: A pheasant in a field must travel ten steps to get a peck, a hundred steps to get a drink. Yet pheasants do not want to be fed in a cage.
Chuang Tzu Dreamed he was a Butterfly: Once upon a time, Chuang Tzu dreamed he was a butterfly, fluttering from flower to flower. He was conscious only of happiness as a butterfly, unaware that he was Chuang. He awoke, and was himself again. After awaking, he did not know if he was a man dreaming he was a butterfly, or if he was a butterfly, dreaming that he was a man. Between a man and a butterfly there is necessarily a distinction. The distinction is the transformation of material things.
Three in the Morning: To wear out your intellect in an obstinate adherence to the individuality of things, not recognizing that all things are One. That is called Three in the Morning. What is Three in the Morning? A monkey keeper told his monkeys that he would feed them feed nuts—three in the morning and four at night. Upon hearing about the feeding schedule, the monkeys became angry. Then the keeper said they could have four in the morning and three at night, and they were all pleased. The number of nuts remained the same, but the distribution conflicted with the monkeys' likes and dislikes. The Sage brings all the contraries together and rests in the natural Balance of Heaven, according to the principle of following two courses at once.
Hard and white:
Hui Tzu said to Chuang Tzu, “What do you think of when I say the word quartz?”
Chuang Tzu replied, “I think of a hard white stone.”
Hui Tzu replied, “What is hard and what is white?”
Chuang Tzu, “Even a child knows what we mean when we say hard and white. Have your convoluted philosophical musings made you confuse the concepts of color and texture?”
Hui Tzu continued, “You say hard and white as if they are two different things, but in the stone they are inseparable—they coincide within the same space. They are in a sense two, but unlike a pair of shoes one cannot be taken away from the other. No animal can be both an ox and a horse, but a stone can be both hard and white.”
Chuang Tzu replied, “You spend too much time on hair-splitting debate.”
Hui Tzu asks a stupid question:
Hui Tzu said to Chuang Tzu, "Is it truly human nature to lack passions?"
"Certainly," replied Chuang Tzu.
Hui Tzu asked, "But if a man lacks passions, what makes him a person?"
Chuang Tzu replied, "Tao gives people expression and form. We do not need passions to be human."
"How could a person lack passions?" asked Hui Tzu.
Chuang Tzu answered, "Passions arise from approval and disapproval—likes and dislikes. By a person without passions, I mean one who does not permit likes and dislikes to disturb his internal economy. This person accepts his nature and does not try to improve upon it."
"But how should we live," asked Hui Tzu. "Shouldn't we improve our lives?"
"Tao gives us expression," said Chuang Tzu, "and mother earth gives us form. We should not permit likes and dislikes to disturb our internal economy. But now you are devoting your intelligence to externals, and dissipating your chi. Lean against a tree and sing; or sit against a table and sleep. Life presents marvelous opportunities, yet you squander your existence contemplating the meaning of hard and white."
The Useless Sacred Tree: As a carpenter was traveling he reached a Shady Circle where he saw the Sacred Li Tree. It was so large that its shade could cover a herd of several thousand cattle. It towered up eighty feet. A dozen boats could be cut out of it. Crowds stood gazing at it, but the carpenter took no notice, and went on his way without even casting a look behind. His apprentice said, "Ever since I have handled an adze in your service, I have never seen such a splendid piece of timber. How was it that you did not stop to look at it?"
"Forget about it. It's not worth talking about," replied his master. "It's good for nothing. Made into a boat, it would sink; into a coffin, it would rot; into furniture, it would break; into a pillar, it would be worm-eaten. Its wood lacks quality, and it is of no use. That is why it has reached such old age."
When the carpenter reached home, he dreamed that the sacred tree spoke to him: "What are you comparing me to, fine-grained wood? Look at the cherry-apple, the pear, the orange? As soon as their fruit ripens they are stripped and treated with indignity. Their boughs are snapped. Thus, these trees cause their own injury by their value. They cannot fulfill their allotted lifespan, and perish prematurely because they destroy themselves for the admiration of the world. Throughout my life I have tried to be useless. Through my uselessness, I have avoided being cut down. While I am useless to humans, I have become exceedingly useful to myself. Is a good-for-nothing carpenter fit to talk of a good-for-nothing tree?" When the carpenter awoke and told his dream, his apprentice asked, "If the tree worked so hard to be useless, how did it become sacred?"
The mountain trees invite their own cutting down; lamp oil invites its own burning up. All people know the utility of useful things; but they do not know the utility of futility.
Tao of Butchering an Ox: Hui Tzu's cook was butchering an ox. Every blow of his hand, every heave of his shoulders, every tread of his foot, every movement of his cleaver was in perfect rhythm.
"Well done!" cried Hui Tzu.
"Sire," replied the cook laying down his cleaver, "I have always devoted myself to Tao, which is higher than mere skill. When I first began to butcher oxen, I saw before me a whole ox. After three years practice, I saw no more whole animals. And now I work with my mind and not with my eye. My mind works without the control of the senses. Falling back upon eternal principles, I glide through joints, according to the anatomy of the animal. I avoid muscle and tendon, and never chop through bone. A good cook changes his cleaver once a year, because he cuts. An ordinary cook, one a month, because he hacks. But I have had this cleaver nineteen years, and although I have cut up many thousand oxen, its edge is as if fresh from the whetstone, for joints contain spaces between the bones, and the edge of a chopper slips easily into those spaces. Thus, I have kept my chopper for nineteen years as though fresh from the whetstone. Nevertheless, when I come upon a knotty part which is difficult to tackle, I am all caution. Fixing my eye on it, I stay my hand, and gently apply my blade, until the part yields."
Thus, a simple butcher spoke his Tao to Hui Tzu, but Hui Tzu did not hear.
Hui Tzu and the large gourd: Hui Tzu said to Chuang Tzu, "The Prince of Wei gave me a seed, and I planted it. It bore a gourd as big as five bushels. Now had I used the gourd for holding water, it would have been too heavy to lift; and had I cut it in half for ladles, the ladles would have been too big. It was so big that it was useless—so broke it to pieces."
"It was useful, but you not understand the use of large things," replied Chuang Tzu. "There was a man of Sung who had a recipe for a salve that healed chapped hands. His family was silk-washers for generations. A stranger heard of his fine salve, and offered him a hundred ounces of silver for this recipe; whereupon the man called together his clansmen and said, "We have never made much money by silk-washing. Now, we can sell the recipe for a hundred ounces in a single day. Let the stranger have it." The stranger got the recipe, and eventually had an audience with Prince of Wu. The Prince of Wu was preparing to send his navy into battle at the beginning of winter. The stranger offered to supply salve to protect the sailor's cold wet hands. The navy defeated the enemy, and the stranger received a piece of the King's territory as a reward. Thus, while the salve cured chapped hands the same in both cases, its applications were different. Here, it secured a title; there, the people remained silk-washers.
"Now as to your five-bushel gourd, why did you not make a float of it to cross rivers and lakes? You complain of its being too big for holding things. You would have discovered its greatest use if you had used it to hold nothing."
Hui Tzu said to Chuang Tzu, "I have a large tree, called the ailanthus. Its trunk is so irregular and knotty that it cannot be measured out for planks; while its branches are so twisted that they cannot be cut out into discs or squares. It stands by the roadside, but no carpenter will look at it. Your words are like that tree—big and useless, of no concern to the world."
"Have you never seen a wild cat," asked Chuang Tzu, "crouching down in wait for its prey? It springs about, until it gets caught in a snare and dies. On the other hand, there is the yak with its ponderous body, too big to catch mice, but not threatened by a snare. Now if you have a big tree and are at a loss of what to do with it, why not plant it in the Village of Nowhere, in the great wilds, where you might loiter idly by its side, and lie in blissful repose in its shade? There it would be safe from the axe. For being of no use to others, what could worry its mind?"
Leveling all Things:
Tsech'i of Nankuo sat leaning on a low table. Gazing up to heaven, he sighed and looked as though he had lost his mind.
Yench'eng Tseyu exclaimed, "What are you thinking about that your body should become like dead wood, your mind like burnt-out cinders?"
Replied Tsech'i, "Today I have lost my Self. Do you understand? Perhaps you only know the music of man, and not that of Earth. Or even if you have heard the music of Earth, perhaps you have not heard the music of Heaven. The wind is the breath of the universe. At times, it is inactive. But when active, all crevices resound to its blast. Have you never listened to its deafening roar? Caves and dells of hill and forest, hollows in huge trees are like nostrils, and some like mouths, and others like ears. And the wind swirls through them bellowing, wailing, whistling in front and echoing behind, now soft with the cool blow, now shrill with the whirlwind, until the tempest is past and silence returns. Trees quake, twist and twirl."
"Well, then," enquired Tseyu, "since the music of Earth consists of hollows and apertures, and the music of man is made with pipes and flutes, of what consists the music of Heaven?"
"The effect of the wind upon these various apertures," replied Tsech'i, "is not uniform, but the sounds are produced according to their individual capacities. Who agitates their breasts? Great wisdom is generous; petty wisdom is contentious. Great speech is impassioned, small speech cantankerous. For whether the soul is locked in sleep or in waking hours the body moves. We are striving and struggling with the immediate circumstances. Some are easy-going and leisurely, some are deep and cunning and some are secretive. Now we are frightened over petty fears, now disheartened and dismayed over some great terror. Now the mind flies like an arrow from a bow, to be the arbiter of right and wrong. Now it stays behind as if sworn to an oath, to hold on to what it has secured. Then, as under autumn and winter's blight, comes gradual decay, and submerged in its own occupations, it keeps on running its course, never to return. Finally, worn out and imprisoned, it is choked up like an old drain, and the failing mind shall not see light again.
"Joy and anger, sorrow and happiness, worries and regrets, indecision and fears, come upon us by turns, with ever-changing moods, like music from the hollows, or like mushrooms from damp. Day and night they alternate within us, but we cannot tell whence they spring. Could we for a moment set our fingers upon their very Cause?
"But for these emotions I should not be. Yet but for me, there would be no one to feel them. So far we can go; but we do not know by whose order they come into play. It would seem there was a soul; but the clue to its existence is wanting. That it functions is credible enough, though we cannot see its form. Perhaps it has inner reality without outward form.
"Take the human body with all its two-hundred bones, nine external openings and six organ systems, all complete. Which part of it should I love best? Do you not cherish all equally, or have you a preference? Do these organs serve as servants of someone else? Since servants cannot govern themselves, do they serve as master and servants by turn? Surely there is some soul which controls them all.
"But whether or not we ascertain what is the true nature of this soul, it matters but little to the soul itself. For once coming into this material shape, it runs its course until it is exhausted. To be harassed by the wear and tear of life, and to be driven along without possibility of arresting one's course, --is not this pitiful indeed? To labor without ceasing all life, and then, without living to enjoy the fruit, worn out with labor, to depart, one knows not whither—is not this a just cause for grief?"
"Men say there is no death, to what avail? The mind withers and the body decomposes. Is this not a great cause for sorrow? Can the world be so dull as not to see this? Or is it I alone who am dull and others not so?"
Now if we are to be guided by our prejudices, who will be without a guide? What need to make comparisons of right and wrong with others? And if one is to follow one's own judgments according to his prejudices, even the fools have them! But to form judgments of right and wrong without first having a mind at all is like saying, "I left for Yu:eh today, and got there yesterday." Or, it is like assuming something which does not exist to exist. The illusion of assuming something which does not exist to exist could not be fathomed even by the divine Yu: how much less could we?
For speech is not mere blowing of breath. It is intended to say some thing, only what it is intended to say cannot yet be determined. Is there speech indeed, or is there not? Can we, or can we not, distinguish it from the chirping of young birds?
How can Tao be obscured so that there should be a distinction of true and false? How can speech be so obscured that there should be a distinction of right and wrong? Where can you go that the Tao does not to exist? What words cannot be proved by clever debate? The Tao is obscured by our inadequate understanding, and truth is obscured by flowery expressions. Hence the affirmations and denials of the Confucian and Motsean schools, each denying what the other affirms and affirming what the other denies brings us confusion.
There is nothing that is not this; there is nothing that is not that. What cannot be seen by another person can be known by me. Hence I say this emanates from that; that also derives from this. This is the theory of the interdependence of this and that.
Nevertheless, life arises from death, and vice versa. Possibility arises from impossibility, and vice versa. Affirmation is based upon denial, and vice versa. Thus, the true sage rejects all distinctions and takes refuge in Nature. For someone may base it on this, yet this is also that and that is also this. This also has its right and wrong, and that also has its right and wrong. Does the distinction between this and that really exist? When this and that are both without their correlates, we can discover the axis of Tao. And when that axis passes through the center where the Infinite converges, affirmations and denials blend into the infinite One.
To assert that a finger in illustration of a finger is not a finger is not so good as to take something that is not a finger to illustrate that a finger is not a finger. To assert that a horse in illustration of a horse is not a horse is not so good as to take something that is not a horse to illustrate that a horse is not a horse. So with the universe, which is but a finger, but a horse? The possible is possible: the impossible is impossible. Tao operates, and the given results follow; things receive names and are said to be what they are. Why are they so? They are said to be so. Why are they not so? They are said to be not so. Things are so by themselves and have possibilities by themselves. There is nothing that is not so and there is nothing which may not become so.
Therefore take a twig and a pillar, or the ugly person and the great beauty, and all the strange and monstrous transformations. These are all leveled together by Tao. Division is the same as creation; creation is the same as destruction. There is no such thing as creation or destruction, for these conditions struggle against leveling together into One.
Only the sages understand this principle of the leveling of all things into One. They discard the distinctions and take refuge in ordinary things. Ordinary things serve a purpose; therefore, they retain the wholeness of nature. Seeing wholeness, we comprehend, and comprehension leads us to surrender to the Tao. There it stops. To stop without knowing how it stops. This is Tao.
Is there room for speech?
If all things are One, what room is there for speech? But, if I can say the word one how can speech not exist? If speech exists, we have One and speech, which equals two; and two and one equals three, which eventually leads to a point that even the best mathematicians will fail to reach a final solution.
Hence, if from nothing you can proceed to something, it follows that it would be still easier if you were to start from something. Since you cannot proceed, stop here. Now Tao by its very nature can never be defined. Speech by its very nature cannot express the absolute. Hence distinctions arise. Such distinctions are: "right" and "left," "relationship" and "duty," "division" and "discrimination, "emulation and contention".
The Sage knows that the Tao extends beyond the limits of the ordinary world, but does not talk about it. Within the limits of the external world, the Sage talks but does not make comments. Regarding the wisdom of the ancients, the Sage comments, but does not expound. Thus among distinctions, there are distinctions that cannot be made; among things expounded, there are things that cannot be expounded. How can that be? The Sage keeps his knowledge within him, while men in general set forth theirs in argument, to convince one another. Those who argue do so because they do not understand the nature of the Tao.
Chuang Tzu and Hui Tzu remained friendly rivals after Hui’s death.
Chuang Tzu was accompanying a funeral when he passed by the grave of Hui Tzu. Turning to his attendants, he said, "There was once a plasterer who, if he got a speck of mud on the tip of his nose no thicker than a fly's wing, would get his friend Carpenter Shih to slice it off for him. Carpenter Shih, whirling his hatchet like the wind, sliced off every bit of mud without injury to the nose, while the plasterer just stood there completely unperturbed. Lord Yuan of Sung, hearing of this feat, summoned Carpenter Shih and said, “Could you try performing it for me?” But Carpenter Shih replied, “It's true that I was once able to slice like that but the material I worked on has been dead for many years.” Chuang Tzu concluded the story, and spoke to his old friend Hui Tzu. “Since you died, Hui Tzu, I have had no material to work on. There's no one I can talk to any more."
Tao:
A perfect Tao cannot be given a name.
A perfect argument employs few words.
Perfect kindness does not concern itself with kindness.
Perfect integrity is not critical of others.
Perfect courage does not push itself forward.
The Tao that is manifest is not the Great Tao.
Speech that argues falls short of its purpose.
Kindness that has fixed objects loses its scope.
Integrity that is obvious is not genuine.
Courage that strives toward goals never accomplishes anything.
Knowledge that stops at what it does not know is the highest knowledge.
Who knows the argument that can be argued without words?
Who knows the Tao that does not declare itself as Tao?
Those who know this enter the realm of the spirit.
To be poured into without becoming full, and to pour out without becoming empty,
This is the Master's art.
The Sages set their spirits free, by considering knowledge extraneous.
Agreements are for cementing relationships.
Goods are only for social dealings, and
Handicrafts are only for serving commerce.
The Sages do not contrive; therefore, they have no use for knowledge.
Sages do not disrupt harmony; therefore, they have no need for cementing of relationships.
They have no loss; thus, they have no need to acquire.
They sell nothing; therefore, they have no use for commerce.
The Tao feeds them the essential qualities, and fed by the Tao they have no need to be fed by man.
The Masters wear the human form, but avoid human passions.
Because they wear the human form they associate with humans.
Because they avoid passion, the questions of this and that do not trouble them.
Small things occupy the concerns of humans; great things reside in the Tao.
The Masters:
With the strength that comes from within, the Masters are still.
Like mountain lakes, they are pure, tranquil, and deep.
Neither appealing to the Tao in their own defense, nor suffering from its effects,
The Masters reside beyond the command of suffering and reward.
Losing their attachments, they avoid consternation.
Free from burdens, they rejoice in their emancipation.
Possessing freedom without bounds,
Health, contentment and confidence are their greatest possessions, and freedom is their greatest joy.
The Masters are exhilarated, even among the dejected.
They are healthy, even among the afflicted.
They are serene, even among the agitated.
They are cordial, even among the embittered.
They are humble, even among the arrogant.
They are intrepid, even among cowards.
They are kind, even to the loathing.
They are charitable, even to the ravenous.
They are respectful, even of the insolent.
Because they do not seek renown, the Masters do not need reputation to be noble.
Because they do not desire material goods, they do not need possessions to be wealthy.
Because they do not seek to dominate, they do not need physical strength to be powerful.
Because they do not consider prestige an asset, they do not consider obscurity a liability.
No complications, no pressing searches, no desperate enterprises.
The Masters pass their lives in peaceful serenity neither alienating anyone nor submitting to anyone.
Only the serene can know the subtle essence.
To become free from turmoil is supreme attainment of purity.
Those who become pure may reach spiritual illumination.
Those who reach spiritual illumination find solace even within a storm.
Their minds are not agitated, and their spirits are not disturbed.
Their perceptions are accurate, and they understand the meaning.
Serene and aloof, attacks do them no harm.
Sensitive and responsive, their actions are effective.
Adaptive and resilient, they move without rigidity.
Emptying their minds of structure, they understand without learning.
Thus in their emptiness, they fill with insight.
They see without looking, and succeed without striving.
Losing their preferences, they can enjoy all circumstances.
They do not attain happiness. It attains them, after they cease struggling.
The Masters are not afraid.
They do not tremble.
Since externals have no hold on them, they fear no hardships.
Celebrating their consciousness, they forget about lowliness.
Secure in virtue, they forget about poverty.
They lean on a pillar that never shakes, and they travel a road never blocked.
They are empowered by an energy that is never exhausted, and
They learn from a teacher who never dies.
Whatever they do, they embrace the inevitable; thus, calamity cannot trouble them.
Humanitarianism compels them, but arms cannot threaten them.
Righteousness corrects them, but profit cannot seduce them.
They will die for justice, but riches or rank will not corrupt them,
For they have reached the end of sorrow, and they have laid down their burdens.
Desiring nothing, they miss nothing.
Beyond judgment and sorrow, they are pure and free.
Beyond the pleasures of the senses, beyond time, they are full of power, fearless, wise, and exalted.
Those, whose law resides within themselves, walk in solitude.
Their acts are influenced by neither approval nor condemnation.
They have no great exploits, no plans.
If they fail, they suffer no sorrow.
No self-congratulation in success.
They scale cliffs, never dizzy, plunge in water, never wet, and walk through fire never burnt.
They sleep without dreams awake without worries.
The Masters know no lust for life, no dread of death.
Their entrance is without gladness.
They withdraw from this existence without resistance. Easy come easy go.
They do not forget where from, nor ask where to,
Nor drive grimly forward fighting their way through life.
They take life as it comes, gladly; take death as it comes, without care; and travel away, beyond.
They have no mind to fight things greater than themselves.
Neither do they contrive to help the Tao along.
Minds free, opinions gone, brows clear, faces serene.
Are they cold? Only cool as autumn.
Are they hot? No warmer than spring.
All that comes from them spreads in silence, like the four seasons.
The Masters harm no other beings by their actions.
Yet, they do not consider themselves compassionate.
They do not bother with their own interests,
But they do not despise others who do.
They do not struggle to make money, yet they do not make poverty a virtue.
They take an independent path, yet they do not pride themselves on walking alone.
The Masters remain unknown in perfect virtue.
Although they receive neither rank nor rewards, they prevail as the greatest of all humans.
The Masters have conquered all inner worlds with their calm, and with great gladness,
They know that they have finished.
They have awakened from their sleep.
Full of power, they are fearless, wise, exalted.
They have vanquished all distractions. They see by their purity.
They have come to the end of the Way.
All that they had to do, they have done.
Thus, the sages have said:
No-self is true self,
And the greatest person
Is nobody.
Taoism and Confucianism are the two great philosophical traditions of China. While most Westerners trace Taoism to the Tao Te Ching written by Lao Tzu, Taoism derives at least as much from the philosopher Chuang Tzu, who lived in the 4th Century BC. Both the Tao Te Ching and the Tao of Chuang Tzu are composite texts written and rewritten over centuries with input from multiple anonymous writers. Each has a distinctive style, the Tao Te Ching poetic mysticism, the Tao of Chuang Tzu funny fantasy dialogues. Both texts flow from reflections on the nature of Tao, which was the central issue in Ancient China's philosophical dialogues. Hui Tzu had much influence on Chuang Tzu. Hui Tzu appears more often in dialogue with Chuang Tzu than any other figure, and the stories suggest a long-term philosophical interaction, a relationship between philosophical friends.
Rather than prescribing right action, the Tao of Chuang Tzu is filled with fantasy conversations among diverse individuals including millipedes, convicts, musicians, and the wind. His poetry and parables teach an essential lesson—open-minded receptivity to all the different voices of Tao. Each has insights that might be surprisingly valuable.
Chuang Tzu prefers fishing to high status and political office. Politics has no attraction for Chuang Tzu, because schemers who struggle against the Tao fall into pits that they dig for themselves. This anti-political stance is more than self-preservation. Chuang Tzu's egalitarian perspectives undermine China's Confucian authoritarianism. While Confucians assert that proper order occurs only when a society follows a single Tao, Chuang Tzu suggests that society could function just fine with people following many Tao's.
Chuang Tzu's most dramatic stories link Taoism to Zen—the mysticism of losing oneself in activity, the absorption in a highly cultivated way. His most famous example describes a butcher who carves flesh with the concentration of a dancer immersed in elegantly choreographed performance. We discover our untarnished human-nature by exercising skills with focus that reaches beyond ourselves to connect intimately with the Tao.
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A Turtle Wagging its Tail in the Mud: Chuang Tzu was fishing on the P'u River when the Prince of Ch'u sent an official to see him and said, "Our Prince desires to burden you with the administration of the Ch'u State." Chuang Tzu went on fishing without turning his head and said, "I have heard that in Ch'u there is a sacred tortoise that died when it was three thousand years old. The Prince keeps this tortoise in a chest in his ancestral temple. Now would this tortoise rather be dead and have its remains venerated, or would it rather be alive and wagging its tail in the mud?"
The official replied, "It would rather be alive, and wagging its tail in the mud."
"Leave me." cried Chuang Tzu. "I too will wag my tail in the mud."
A Screeching Crow: Hui Tzu was Prime Minister in the Liang State, and Chuang Tzu was passing through Liang on his way to a sacred mountain. Someone remarked, "Chuang Tzu has come to Liang. He wants to take over Hui Tzu's position as minister." Hui Tzu felt threatened by Chuang Tzu, and searched throughout the countryside for to find him. Hui Tzu searched for three days and three nights. Eventually Chuang Tzu found Hui Tzu, and said, "A lovely phoenix spends its winters near the South Sea. In spring it flies from the South to the Northern Mountains. During its spring migration, the phoenix does not alight except on the wu-t'ung tree. It eats nothing but the fruit of the bamboo and drinks only the purest spring water. As the phoenix flew over a barren prairie, a Crow feasting on a rotten carcass of a rat looked up and screeched at the phoenix. Are you not screeching at me over your kingdom of Liang?"
Happy Fish: Chuang Tzu and Hui Tzu strolled on to the bridge over the river Hao, when Chuang Tzu observed, "See how the small fish dart about. That is the happiness of the fish."
"You are not a fish." said Hui Tzu, "How can you know what makes a fish happy?"
"And you are not me." replied Chuang Tzu, "How can you know that I do not know what makes a fish happy?"
"If I, not being you, cannot know what you know," argued Hui Tzu, "it follows that you, not being a fish, cannot know the happiness of the fish."
"Let's return to your original question," said Chuang Tzu. "You asked me how I knew the happiness of the fish. Your very question shows that you knew that I knew. I knew it, from my own feelings, on this bridge."
The Pheasant in a Field: A pheasant in a field must travel ten steps to get a peck, a hundred steps to get a drink. Yet pheasants do not want to be fed in a cage.
Chuang Tzu Dreamed he was a Butterfly: Once upon a time, Chuang Tzu dreamed he was a butterfly, fluttering from flower to flower. He was conscious only of happiness as a butterfly, unaware that he was Chuang. He awoke, and was himself again. After awaking, he did not know if he was a man dreaming he was a butterfly, or if he was a butterfly, dreaming that he was a man. Between a man and a butterfly there is necessarily a distinction. The distinction is the transformation of material things.
Three in the Morning: To wear out your intellect in an obstinate adherence to the individuality of things, not recognizing that all things are One. That is called Three in the Morning. What is Three in the Morning? A monkey keeper told his monkeys that he would feed them feed nuts—three in the morning and four at night. Upon hearing about the feeding schedule, the monkeys became angry. Then the keeper said they could have four in the morning and three at night, and they were all pleased. The number of nuts remained the same, but the distribution conflicted with the monkeys' likes and dislikes. The Sage brings all the contraries together and rests in the natural Balance of Heaven, according to the principle of following two courses at once.
Hard and white:
Hui Tzu said to Chuang Tzu, “What do you think of when I say the word quartz?”
Chuang Tzu replied, “I think of a hard white stone.”
Hui Tzu replied, “What is hard and what is white?”
Chuang Tzu, “Even a child knows what we mean when we say hard and white. Have your convoluted philosophical musings made you confuse the concepts of color and texture?”
Hui Tzu continued, “You say hard and white as if they are two different things, but in the stone they are inseparable—they coincide within the same space. They are in a sense two, but unlike a pair of shoes one cannot be taken away from the other. No animal can be both an ox and a horse, but a stone can be both hard and white.”
Chuang Tzu replied, “You spend too much time on hair-splitting debate.”
Hui Tzu asks a stupid question:
Hui Tzu said to Chuang Tzu, "Is it truly human nature to lack passions?"
"Certainly," replied Chuang Tzu.
Hui Tzu asked, "But if a man lacks passions, what makes him a person?"
Chuang Tzu replied, "Tao gives people expression and form. We do not need passions to be human."
"How could a person lack passions?" asked Hui Tzu.
Chuang Tzu answered, "Passions arise from approval and disapproval—likes and dislikes. By a person without passions, I mean one who does not permit likes and dislikes to disturb his internal economy. This person accepts his nature and does not try to improve upon it."
"But how should we live," asked Hui Tzu. "Shouldn't we improve our lives?"
"Tao gives us expression," said Chuang Tzu, "and mother earth gives us form. We should not permit likes and dislikes to disturb our internal economy. But now you are devoting your intelligence to externals, and dissipating your chi. Lean against a tree and sing; or sit against a table and sleep. Life presents marvelous opportunities, yet you squander your existence contemplating the meaning of hard and white."
The Useless Sacred Tree: As a carpenter was traveling he reached a Shady Circle where he saw the Sacred Li Tree. It was so large that its shade could cover a herd of several thousand cattle. It towered up eighty feet. A dozen boats could be cut out of it. Crowds stood gazing at it, but the carpenter took no notice, and went on his way without even casting a look behind. His apprentice said, "Ever since I have handled an adze in your service, I have never seen such a splendid piece of timber. How was it that you did not stop to look at it?"
"Forget about it. It's not worth talking about," replied his master. "It's good for nothing. Made into a boat, it would sink; into a coffin, it would rot; into furniture, it would break; into a pillar, it would be worm-eaten. Its wood lacks quality, and it is of no use. That is why it has reached such old age."
When the carpenter reached home, he dreamed that the sacred tree spoke to him: "What are you comparing me to, fine-grained wood? Look at the cherry-apple, the pear, the orange? As soon as their fruit ripens they are stripped and treated with indignity. Their boughs are snapped. Thus, these trees cause their own injury by their value. They cannot fulfill their allotted lifespan, and perish prematurely because they destroy themselves for the admiration of the world. Throughout my life I have tried to be useless. Through my uselessness, I have avoided being cut down. While I am useless to humans, I have become exceedingly useful to myself. Is a good-for-nothing carpenter fit to talk of a good-for-nothing tree?" When the carpenter awoke and told his dream, his apprentice asked, "If the tree worked so hard to be useless, how did it become sacred?"
The mountain trees invite their own cutting down; lamp oil invites its own burning up. All people know the utility of useful things; but they do not know the utility of futility.
Tao of Butchering an Ox: Hui Tzu's cook was butchering an ox. Every blow of his hand, every heave of his shoulders, every tread of his foot, every movement of his cleaver was in perfect rhythm.
"Well done!" cried Hui Tzu.
"Sire," replied the cook laying down his cleaver, "I have always devoted myself to Tao, which is higher than mere skill. When I first began to butcher oxen, I saw before me a whole ox. After three years practice, I saw no more whole animals. And now I work with my mind and not with my eye. My mind works without the control of the senses. Falling back upon eternal principles, I glide through joints, according to the anatomy of the animal. I avoid muscle and tendon, and never chop through bone. A good cook changes his cleaver once a year, because he cuts. An ordinary cook, one a month, because he hacks. But I have had this cleaver nineteen years, and although I have cut up many thousand oxen, its edge is as if fresh from the whetstone, for joints contain spaces between the bones, and the edge of a chopper slips easily into those spaces. Thus, I have kept my chopper for nineteen years as though fresh from the whetstone. Nevertheless, when I come upon a knotty part which is difficult to tackle, I am all caution. Fixing my eye on it, I stay my hand, and gently apply my blade, until the part yields."
Thus, a simple butcher spoke his Tao to Hui Tzu, but Hui Tzu did not hear.
Hui Tzu and the large gourd: Hui Tzu said to Chuang Tzu, "The Prince of Wei gave me a seed, and I planted it. It bore a gourd as big as five bushels. Now had I used the gourd for holding water, it would have been too heavy to lift; and had I cut it in half for ladles, the ladles would have been too big. It was so big that it was useless—so broke it to pieces."
"It was useful, but you not understand the use of large things," replied Chuang Tzu. "There was a man of Sung who had a recipe for a salve that healed chapped hands. His family was silk-washers for generations. A stranger heard of his fine salve, and offered him a hundred ounces of silver for this recipe; whereupon the man called together his clansmen and said, "We have never made much money by silk-washing. Now, we can sell the recipe for a hundred ounces in a single day. Let the stranger have it." The stranger got the recipe, and eventually had an audience with Prince of Wu. The Prince of Wu was preparing to send his navy into battle at the beginning of winter. The stranger offered to supply salve to protect the sailor's cold wet hands. The navy defeated the enemy, and the stranger received a piece of the King's territory as a reward. Thus, while the salve cured chapped hands the same in both cases, its applications were different. Here, it secured a title; there, the people remained silk-washers.
"Now as to your five-bushel gourd, why did you not make a float of it to cross rivers and lakes? You complain of its being too big for holding things. You would have discovered its greatest use if you had used it to hold nothing."
Hui Tzu said to Chuang Tzu, "I have a large tree, called the ailanthus. Its trunk is so irregular and knotty that it cannot be measured out for planks; while its branches are so twisted that they cannot be cut out into discs or squares. It stands by the roadside, but no carpenter will look at it. Your words are like that tree—big and useless, of no concern to the world."
"Have you never seen a wild cat," asked Chuang Tzu, "crouching down in wait for its prey? It springs about, until it gets caught in a snare and dies. On the other hand, there is the yak with its ponderous body, too big to catch mice, but not threatened by a snare. Now if you have a big tree and are at a loss of what to do with it, why not plant it in the Village of Nowhere, in the great wilds, where you might loiter idly by its side, and lie in blissful repose in its shade? There it would be safe from the axe. For being of no use to others, what could worry its mind?"
Leveling all Things:
Tsech'i of Nankuo sat leaning on a low table. Gazing up to heaven, he sighed and looked as though he had lost his mind.
Yench'eng Tseyu exclaimed, "What are you thinking about that your body should become like dead wood, your mind like burnt-out cinders?"
Replied Tsech'i, "Today I have lost my Self. Do you understand? Perhaps you only know the music of man, and not that of Earth. Or even if you have heard the music of Earth, perhaps you have not heard the music of Heaven. The wind is the breath of the universe. At times, it is inactive. But when active, all crevices resound to its blast. Have you never listened to its deafening roar? Caves and dells of hill and forest, hollows in huge trees are like nostrils, and some like mouths, and others like ears. And the wind swirls through them bellowing, wailing, whistling in front and echoing behind, now soft with the cool blow, now shrill with the whirlwind, until the tempest is past and silence returns. Trees quake, twist and twirl."
"Well, then," enquired Tseyu, "since the music of Earth consists of hollows and apertures, and the music of man is made with pipes and flutes, of what consists the music of Heaven?"
"The effect of the wind upon these various apertures," replied Tsech'i, "is not uniform, but the sounds are produced according to their individual capacities. Who agitates their breasts? Great wisdom is generous; petty wisdom is contentious. Great speech is impassioned, small speech cantankerous. For whether the soul is locked in sleep or in waking hours the body moves. We are striving and struggling with the immediate circumstances. Some are easy-going and leisurely, some are deep and cunning and some are secretive. Now we are frightened over petty fears, now disheartened and dismayed over some great terror. Now the mind flies like an arrow from a bow, to be the arbiter of right and wrong. Now it stays behind as if sworn to an oath, to hold on to what it has secured. Then, as under autumn and winter's blight, comes gradual decay, and submerged in its own occupations, it keeps on running its course, never to return. Finally, worn out and imprisoned, it is choked up like an old drain, and the failing mind shall not see light again.
"Joy and anger, sorrow and happiness, worries and regrets, indecision and fears, come upon us by turns, with ever-changing moods, like music from the hollows, or like mushrooms from damp. Day and night they alternate within us, but we cannot tell whence they spring. Could we for a moment set our fingers upon their very Cause?
"But for these emotions I should not be. Yet but for me, there would be no one to feel them. So far we can go; but we do not know by whose order they come into play. It would seem there was a soul; but the clue to its existence is wanting. That it functions is credible enough, though we cannot see its form. Perhaps it has inner reality without outward form.
"Take the human body with all its two-hundred bones, nine external openings and six organ systems, all complete. Which part of it should I love best? Do you not cherish all equally, or have you a preference? Do these organs serve as servants of someone else? Since servants cannot govern themselves, do they serve as master and servants by turn? Surely there is some soul which controls them all.
"But whether or not we ascertain what is the true nature of this soul, it matters but little to the soul itself. For once coming into this material shape, it runs its course until it is exhausted. To be harassed by the wear and tear of life, and to be driven along without possibility of arresting one's course, --is not this pitiful indeed? To labor without ceasing all life, and then, without living to enjoy the fruit, worn out with labor, to depart, one knows not whither—is not this a just cause for grief?"
"Men say there is no death, to what avail? The mind withers and the body decomposes. Is this not a great cause for sorrow? Can the world be so dull as not to see this? Or is it I alone who am dull and others not so?"
Now if we are to be guided by our prejudices, who will be without a guide? What need to make comparisons of right and wrong with others? And if one is to follow one's own judgments according to his prejudices, even the fools have them! But to form judgments of right and wrong without first having a mind at all is like saying, "I left for Yu:eh today, and got there yesterday." Or, it is like assuming something which does not exist to exist. The illusion of assuming something which does not exist to exist could not be fathomed even by the divine Yu: how much less could we?
For speech is not mere blowing of breath. It is intended to say some thing, only what it is intended to say cannot yet be determined. Is there speech indeed, or is there not? Can we, or can we not, distinguish it from the chirping of young birds?
How can Tao be obscured so that there should be a distinction of true and false? How can speech be so obscured that there should be a distinction of right and wrong? Where can you go that the Tao does not to exist? What words cannot be proved by clever debate? The Tao is obscured by our inadequate understanding, and truth is obscured by flowery expressions. Hence the affirmations and denials of the Confucian and Motsean schools, each denying what the other affirms and affirming what the other denies brings us confusion.
There is nothing that is not this; there is nothing that is not that. What cannot be seen by another person can be known by me. Hence I say this emanates from that; that also derives from this. This is the theory of the interdependence of this and that.
Nevertheless, life arises from death, and vice versa. Possibility arises from impossibility, and vice versa. Affirmation is based upon denial, and vice versa. Thus, the true sage rejects all distinctions and takes refuge in Nature. For someone may base it on this, yet this is also that and that is also this. This also has its right and wrong, and that also has its right and wrong. Does the distinction between this and that really exist? When this and that are both without their correlates, we can discover the axis of Tao. And when that axis passes through the center where the Infinite converges, affirmations and denials blend into the infinite One.
To assert that a finger in illustration of a finger is not a finger is not so good as to take something that is not a finger to illustrate that a finger is not a finger. To assert that a horse in illustration of a horse is not a horse is not so good as to take something that is not a horse to illustrate that a horse is not a horse. So with the universe, which is but a finger, but a horse? The possible is possible: the impossible is impossible. Tao operates, and the given results follow; things receive names and are said to be what they are. Why are they so? They are said to be so. Why are they not so? They are said to be not so. Things are so by themselves and have possibilities by themselves. There is nothing that is not so and there is nothing which may not become so.
Therefore take a twig and a pillar, or the ugly person and the great beauty, and all the strange and monstrous transformations. These are all leveled together by Tao. Division is the same as creation; creation is the same as destruction. There is no such thing as creation or destruction, for these conditions struggle against leveling together into One.
Only the sages understand this principle of the leveling of all things into One. They discard the distinctions and take refuge in ordinary things. Ordinary things serve a purpose; therefore, they retain the wholeness of nature. Seeing wholeness, we comprehend, and comprehension leads us to surrender to the Tao. There it stops. To stop without knowing how it stops. This is Tao.
Is there room for speech?
If all things are One, what room is there for speech? But, if I can say the word one how can speech not exist? If speech exists, we have One and speech, which equals two; and two and one equals three, which eventually leads to a point that even the best mathematicians will fail to reach a final solution.
Hence, if from nothing you can proceed to something, it follows that it would be still easier if you were to start from something. Since you cannot proceed, stop here. Now Tao by its very nature can never be defined. Speech by its very nature cannot express the absolute. Hence distinctions arise. Such distinctions are: "right" and "left," "relationship" and "duty," "division" and "discrimination, "emulation and contention".
The Sage knows that the Tao extends beyond the limits of the ordinary world, but does not talk about it. Within the limits of the external world, the Sage talks but does not make comments. Regarding the wisdom of the ancients, the Sage comments, but does not expound. Thus among distinctions, there are distinctions that cannot be made; among things expounded, there are things that cannot be expounded. How can that be? The Sage keeps his knowledge within him, while men in general set forth theirs in argument, to convince one another. Those who argue do so because they do not understand the nature of the Tao.
Chuang Tzu and Hui Tzu remained friendly rivals after Hui’s death.
Chuang Tzu was accompanying a funeral when he passed by the grave of Hui Tzu. Turning to his attendants, he said, "There was once a plasterer who, if he got a speck of mud on the tip of his nose no thicker than a fly's wing, would get his friend Carpenter Shih to slice it off for him. Carpenter Shih, whirling his hatchet like the wind, sliced off every bit of mud without injury to the nose, while the plasterer just stood there completely unperturbed. Lord Yuan of Sung, hearing of this feat, summoned Carpenter Shih and said, “Could you try performing it for me?” But Carpenter Shih replied, “It's true that I was once able to slice like that but the material I worked on has been dead for many years.” Chuang Tzu concluded the story, and spoke to his old friend Hui Tzu. “Since you died, Hui Tzu, I have had no material to work on. There's no one I can talk to any more."
Tao:
A perfect Tao cannot be given a name.
A perfect argument employs few words.
Perfect kindness does not concern itself with kindness.
Perfect integrity is not critical of others.
Perfect courage does not push itself forward.
The Tao that is manifest is not the Great Tao.
Speech that argues falls short of its purpose.
Kindness that has fixed objects loses its scope.
Integrity that is obvious is not genuine.
Courage that strives toward goals never accomplishes anything.
Knowledge that stops at what it does not know is the highest knowledge.
Who knows the argument that can be argued without words?
Who knows the Tao that does not declare itself as Tao?
Those who know this enter the realm of the spirit.
To be poured into without becoming full, and to pour out without becoming empty,
This is the Master's art.
The Sages set their spirits free, by considering knowledge extraneous.
Agreements are for cementing relationships.
Goods are only for social dealings, and
Handicrafts are only for serving commerce.
The Sages do not contrive; therefore, they have no use for knowledge.
Sages do not disrupt harmony; therefore, they have no need for cementing of relationships.
They have no loss; thus, they have no need to acquire.
They sell nothing; therefore, they have no use for commerce.
The Tao feeds them the essential qualities, and fed by the Tao they have no need to be fed by man.
The Masters wear the human form, but avoid human passions.
Because they wear the human form they associate with humans.
Because they avoid passion, the questions of this and that do not trouble them.
Small things occupy the concerns of humans; great things reside in the Tao.
The Masters:
With the strength that comes from within, the Masters are still.
Like mountain lakes, they are pure, tranquil, and deep.
Neither appealing to the Tao in their own defense, nor suffering from its effects,
The Masters reside beyond the command of suffering and reward.
Losing their attachments, they avoid consternation.
Free from burdens, they rejoice in their emancipation.
Possessing freedom without bounds,
Health, contentment and confidence are their greatest possessions, and freedom is their greatest joy.
The Masters are exhilarated, even among the dejected.
They are healthy, even among the afflicted.
They are serene, even among the agitated.
They are cordial, even among the embittered.
They are humble, even among the arrogant.
They are intrepid, even among cowards.
They are kind, even to the loathing.
They are charitable, even to the ravenous.
They are respectful, even of the insolent.
Because they do not seek renown, the Masters do not need reputation to be noble.
Because they do not desire material goods, they do not need possessions to be wealthy.
Because they do not seek to dominate, they do not need physical strength to be powerful.
Because they do not consider prestige an asset, they do not consider obscurity a liability.
No complications, no pressing searches, no desperate enterprises.
The Masters pass their lives in peaceful serenity neither alienating anyone nor submitting to anyone.
Only the serene can know the subtle essence.
To become free from turmoil is supreme attainment of purity.
Those who become pure may reach spiritual illumination.
Those who reach spiritual illumination find solace even within a storm.
Their minds are not agitated, and their spirits are not disturbed.
Their perceptions are accurate, and they understand the meaning.
Serene and aloof, attacks do them no harm.
Sensitive and responsive, their actions are effective.
Adaptive and resilient, they move without rigidity.
Emptying their minds of structure, they understand without learning.
Thus in their emptiness, they fill with insight.
They see without looking, and succeed without striving.
Losing their preferences, they can enjoy all circumstances.
They do not attain happiness. It attains them, after they cease struggling.
The Masters are not afraid.
They do not tremble.
Since externals have no hold on them, they fear no hardships.
Celebrating their consciousness, they forget about lowliness.
Secure in virtue, they forget about poverty.
They lean on a pillar that never shakes, and they travel a road never blocked.
They are empowered by an energy that is never exhausted, and
They learn from a teacher who never dies.
Whatever they do, they embrace the inevitable; thus, calamity cannot trouble them.
Humanitarianism compels them, but arms cannot threaten them.
Righteousness corrects them, but profit cannot seduce them.
They will die for justice, but riches or rank will not corrupt them,
For they have reached the end of sorrow, and they have laid down their burdens.
Desiring nothing, they miss nothing.
Beyond judgment and sorrow, they are pure and free.
Beyond the pleasures of the senses, beyond time, they are full of power, fearless, wise, and exalted.
Those, whose law resides within themselves, walk in solitude.
Their acts are influenced by neither approval nor condemnation.
They have no great exploits, no plans.
If they fail, they suffer no sorrow.
No self-congratulation in success.
They scale cliffs, never dizzy, plunge in water, never wet, and walk through fire never burnt.
They sleep without dreams awake without worries.
The Masters know no lust for life, no dread of death.
Their entrance is without gladness.
They withdraw from this existence without resistance. Easy come easy go.
They do not forget where from, nor ask where to,
Nor drive grimly forward fighting their way through life.
They take life as it comes, gladly; take death as it comes, without care; and travel away, beyond.
They have no mind to fight things greater than themselves.
Neither do they contrive to help the Tao along.
Minds free, opinions gone, brows clear, faces serene.
Are they cold? Only cool as autumn.
Are they hot? No warmer than spring.
All that comes from them spreads in silence, like the four seasons.
The Masters harm no other beings by their actions.
Yet, they do not consider themselves compassionate.
They do not bother with their own interests,
But they do not despise others who do.
They do not struggle to make money, yet they do not make poverty a virtue.
They take an independent path, yet they do not pride themselves on walking alone.
The Masters remain unknown in perfect virtue.
Although they receive neither rank nor rewards, they prevail as the greatest of all humans.
The Masters have conquered all inner worlds with their calm, and with great gladness,
They know that they have finished.
They have awakened from their sleep.
Full of power, they are fearless, wise, exalted.
They have vanquished all distractions. They see by their purity.
They have come to the end of the Way.
All that they had to do, they have done.
Thus, the sages have said:
No-self is true self,
And the greatest person
Is nobody.
Tao Te Ching
http://www.human.toyogakuen-u.ac.jp/~acmuller/contao/laotzu.htm
Tao Te Ching
by Lao Tzu
Translated by Charles Muller
The Tao that can be followed is not the eternal Tao.
Tao Te Ching
by Lao Tzu
Translated by Charles Muller
The Tao that can be followed is not the eternal Tao.
The name that can be named is not the eternal name.
The nameless is the origin of heaven and earth
While naming is the origin of the myriad things.
Therefore, always desireless, you see the mystery
Ever desiring, you see the manifestations.
These two are the same--
When they appear they are named differently.
Their sameness is the mystery,
Mystery within mystery;
The door to all marvels.
2.
All in the world recognize the beautiful as beautiful.
Herein lies ugliness.
All recognize the good as good.
Herein lies evil.
Therefore
Being and non-being produce each other.
Difficulty and ease bring about each other.
Long and short delimit each other.
High and low rest on each other.
Sound and voice harmonize each other.
Front and back follow each other.
Therefore the sage abides in the condition of wu-wei (unattached action).
And carries out the wordless teaching.
Here, the myriad things are made, yet not separated.
Therefore the sage produces without possessing,
Acts without expectations
And accomplishes without abiding in her accomplishments.
It is precisely because she does not abide in them
That they never leave her.
3.
If you do not adulate the worthy, you will make others non-contentious.
If you do not value rare treasures, you will stop others from stealing.
If people do not see desirables, they will not be agitated.
Therefore, when the sage governs,
He clears peoples minds,
Fills their bellies,
Weakens their ambition and
Strengthens their bones.
If the people are kept without cleverness and desire
It will make the intellectuals not dare to meddle.
Acting without contrivance, there is no lack of manageability.
4.
The Tao is so vast that when you use it, something is always left.
How deep it is!
It seems to be the ancestor of the myriad things.
It blunts sharpness
Untangles knots
Softens the glare
Unifies with the mundane.
It is so full!
It seems to have remainder.
It is the child of I-don't-know-who.
And prior to the primeval Lord-on-high.
5.
Heaven and Earth are not jen,
And regard the people as straw dogs.
The sage is not jen,
And regards all things as straw dogs.
The space between Heaven and Earth is just like a bellows:
Empty it, it is not exhausted.
Squeeze it and more comes out.
Investigating it with a lot of talk
Is not like holding to the center.
6.
The valley spirit never dies.
It is called "the mysterious female."
The opening of the mysterious female
Is called "the root of Heaven and Earth."
Continuous, seeming to remain.
Use it without exertion.
7.
Heaven and Earth last forever.
The reason that Heaven and Earth are able to last forever
Is because they do not give birth to themselves.
Therefore, they are always alive.
Hence, the sage puts herself last and is first.
She is outside herself and therefore her self lasts.
Is it not through her selflessness
That she is able to perfect herself?
8.
The highest goodness is like water.
Water easily benefits all things without struggle.
Yet it abides in places that men hate.
Therefore it is like the Tao.
For dwelling, the Earth is good.
For the mind, depth is good.
The goodness of giving is in the timing.
The goodness of speech is in honesty.
In government, self-mastery is good.
In handling affairs, ability is good.
If you do not wrangle, you will not be blamed.
9.
To hold until full is not as good as stopping.
An oversharpened sword cannot last long.
A room filled with gold and jewels cannot be protected.
Boasting of wealth and virtue brings your demise.
After finishing the work, withdraw.
This is the Way of Heaven.
10.
Pacifying the agitated material soul and holding to oneness:
Are you able to avoid separation?
Focusing your energy on the release of tension:
Can you be like an infant?
In purifying your insight:
Can you un-obstruct it?
Loving the people and ruling the state:
Can you avoid over-manipulation?
In opening and closing the gate of Heaven:
Can you be the female?
In illuminating the whole universe:
Can you be free of rationality?
Give birth to it and nourish it.
Produce it but don't possess it.
Act without expectation.
Excel, but don't take charge.
This is called Mysterious Virtue.
11.
Thirty spokes join together in the hub.
It is because of what is not there that the cart is useful.
Clay is formed into a vessel.
It is because of its emptiness that the vessel is useful.
Cut doors and windows to make a room.
It is because of its emptiness that the room is useful.
Therefore, what is present is used for profit.
But it is in absence that there is usefulness.
12.
The five colors blind our eyes.
The five tones deafen our ears.
The five flavors confuse our taste.
Racing and hunting madden our minds.
Possessing rare treasures brings about harmful behavior.
Therefore the sage regards his center, and not his eyes.
He lets go of that and chooses this.
13.
Accept humiliation as a surprise.
Value great misfortune as your own self.
What do I mean by "Accept humiliation as a surprise"?
When you are humble
Attainment is a surprise
And so is loss.
That's why I say, "Accept humiliation as a surprise."
What do I mean by "Value great misfortune as your own self"?
If I have no self, how could I experience misfortune?
Therefore, if you dedicate your life for the benefit of the world,
You can rely on the world.
If you love dedicating yourself in this way,
You can be entrusted with the world.
14.
Look for it, it cannot be seen.
It is called the distant.
Listen for it, it cannot be heard.
It is called the rare.
Reach for it, it cannot be gotten.
It is called the subtle.
These three ultimately cannot be fathomed.
Therefore they join to become one.
Its top is not bright;
Its bottom is not dark;
Existing continuously, it cannot be named and it returns to no-thingness.
Thus, it is called the formless form,
The image of no-thing.
This is called the most obscure.
Go to meet it, you cannot see its face.
Follow it, you cannot see its back.
By holding to the ancient Tao
You can manage present existence
And know the primordial beginning.
This is called the very beginning thread of the Tao.
15.
The ancient masters of the Tao
Had subtle marvelous mystic penetration
A depth that cannot be known.
It is exactly because that they are unknowable
That we are forced to pay attention to their appearance.
Hesitant, like one crossing an ice-covered river.
Ready, like one afraid of his neighbors on all sides.
Dignified, like a guest.
Loose, like ice about to melt.
Straightforward, like an uncarved block of wood.
Open, like a valley.
Obscure, like muddy water.
Who can be muddled, and use clarity to gradually become lucid?
Who can be calm, and use constant application for eventual success?
The one who holds to this path does not crave fulfillment.
Precisely because he does not crave fulfillment
He can be shattered
And do without quick restitution.
16.
Effect emptiness to the extreme.
Keep stillness whole.
Myriad things act in concert.
I therefore watch their return.
All things flourish and each returns to its root.
Returning to the root is called quietude.
Quietude is called returning to life.
Return to life is called constant.
Knowing this constant is called illumination.
Acting arbitrarily without knowing the constant is harmful.
Knowing the constant is receptivity, which is impartial.
Impartiality is kingship.
Kingship is Heaven.
Heaven is Tao
Tao is eternal.
Though you lose the body, you do not die.
17.
From great antiquity forth they have known and possessed it.
Those of the next level loved and praised it.
The next were in awe of it.
And the next despised it.
If you lack sincerity no one will believe you.
How careful she is with her precious words!
When her work is complete and her job is finished,
Everybody says: "We did it!"
18.
When the great Tao perishes
There is jen and justice.
When intelligence is manifest
There is great deception.
When the six relationships are not in harmony
There is filial piety and compassion.
When the country is in chaos
Loyal ministers appear.
19.
Get rid of "holiness" and abandon "wisdom" and the people will benefit a hundredfold.
Get rid of "altruism" and abandon "Justice" and the people will return to filial piety and compassion.
Get rid of cleverness and abandon profit, and thieves and gangsters will not exist.
Since the above three are merely words, they are not sufficient.
Therefore there must be something to include them all.
See the origin and keep the non-differentiated state.
Lessen selfishness and decrease desire.
20.
Get rid of "learning" and there will be no anxiety.
How much difference is there between "yes" and "no"?
How far removed from each other are "good" and "evil"?
Yet what the people are in awe of cannot be disregarded.
I am scattered, never having been in a comfortable center.
All the people enjoy themselves, as if they are at the festival of the great sacrifice,
Or climbing the Spring Platform.
I alone remain, not yet having shown myself.
Like an infant who has not yet laughed.
Weary, like one despairing of no home to return to.
All the people enjoy extra
While I have left everything behind.
I am ignorant of the minds of others.
So dull!
While average people are clear and bright, I alone am obscure.
Average people know everything.
To me alone all seems covered.
So flat!
Like the ocean.
Blowing around!
It seems there is no place to rest.
Everybody has a goal in mind.
I alone am as ignorant as a bumpkin.
I alone differ from people.
I enjoy being nourished by the mother.
21.
The form of great virtue is something that only the Tao can follow.
The Tao as a "thing" is only vague and obscure.
How obscure! How vague! In it there is form.
How vague! How obscure! In it are things.
How deep! How dark! In it there is an essence.
The essence is so real--therein is belief.
From the present to antiquity, its name has never left it, so we can examine all origins.
How do I know the form of all origins?
By this.
22.
The imperfect is completed.
The crooked is straightened.
The empty is filled.
The old is renewed.
With few there is attainment.
With much there is confusion.
Therefore the sage grasps the one and becomes the model for all.
She does not show herself, and therefore is apparent.
She does not affirm herself, and therefore is acknowledged.
She does not boast and therefore has merit.
She does not strive and is therefore successful.
It is exactly because she does not contend, that nobody can contend with her.
How could the ancient saying, "The imperfect is completed" be regarded as empty talk?
Believe in the complete and return to it.
23.
To speak little is natural.
Therefore a gale does not blow a whole morning
Nor does a downpour last a whole day.
Who does these things? Heaven and Earth.
If even Heaven and Earth cannot force perfect continuity
How can people expect to?
Therefore there is such a thing as aligning one's actions with the Tao.
If you accord with the Tao you become one with it.
If you accord with virtue you become one with it.
If you accord with loss you become one with it.
The Tao accepts this accordance gladly.
Virtue accepts this accordance gladly.
Loss also accepts accordance gladly.
If you are untrustworthy, people will not trust you.
24.
Standing on tiptoe, you are unsteady.
Straddle-legged, you cannot go.
If you show yourself, you will not be seen.
If you affirm yourself, you will not shine.
If you boast, you will have no merit.
If you promote yourself, you will have no success.
Those who abide in the Tao call these
Leftover food and wasted action
And all things dislike them.
Therefore the person of the Tao does not act like this.
25.
There is something that is perfect in its disorder
Which is born before Heaven and Earth.
So silent and desolate! It establishes itself without renewal.
Functions universally without lapse.
We can regard it as the Mother of Everything.
I don't know its name.
Hence, when forced to name it, I call it "Tao."
When forced to categorize it, I call it "great."
Greatness entails transcendence.
Transcendence entails going-far.
Going-far entails return.
Hence, Tao is great, Heaven is great, the Earth is great
And the human is also great.
Within our realm there are four greatnesses and the human being is one of them.
Human beings follow the Earth.
Earth follows Heaven
Heaven follows the Tao
The Tao follows the way things are.
26.
Heaviness is the root of lightness.
Composure is the ruler of instability.
Therefore the sage travels all day
Without putting down his heavy load.
Though there may be spectacles to see
He easily passes them by.
This being so
How could the ruler of a large state
Be so concerned with himself as to ignore the people?
If you take them lightly you will lose your roots.
If you are unstable, you will lose your rulership.
27.
A good traveler leaves no tracks.
Good speech lacks faultfinding.
A good counter needs no calculator.
A well-shut door will stay closed without a latch.
Skillful fastening will stay tied without knots.
It is in this manner that the sage is always skillful in elevating people.
Therefore she does not discard anybody.
She is always skillful in helping things
Therefore she does not discard anything.
This is called "the actualization of her luminosity."
Hence, the good are the teachers of the not-so-good.
And the not-so-good are the charges of the good.
Not valuing your teacher or not loving your students:
Even if you are smart, you are gravely in error.
This is called Essential Subtlety.
28.
Know the Masculine, cleave to the Feminine
Be the valley for everyone.
Being the valley for everyone
You are always in virtue without lapse
And you return to infancy.
Know the White, cleave to the Black
Be a model for everyone.
Being the model for everyone
You are always in virtue and free from error
You return to limitlessness.
Know Glory but cleave to Humiliation
Be the valley for everyone.
When your constancy in virtue is complete
You return to the state of the "uncarved block."
The block is cut into implements.
The sage uses them to fulfill roles.
Therefore the great tailor does not cut.
29.
If you want to grab the world and run it
I can see that you will not succeed.
The world is a spiritual vessel, which can't be controlled.
Manipulators mess things up.
Grabbers lose it. Therefore:
Sometimes you lead
Sometimes you follow
Sometimes you are stifled
Sometimes you breathe easy
Sometimes you are strong
Sometimes you are weak
Sometimes you destroy
And sometimes you are destroyed.
Hence, the sage shuns excess
Shuns grandiosity
Shuns arrogance.
30.
If you used the Tao as a principle for ruling
You would not dominate the people by military force.
What goes around comes around.
Where the general has camped
Thorns and brambles grow.
In the wake of a great army
Come years of famine.
If you know what you are doing
You will do what is necessary and stop there.
Accomplish but don't boast
Accomplish without show
Accomplish without arrogance
Accomplish without grabbing
Accomplish without forcing.
When things flourish they decline.
This is called non-Tao
The non-Tao is short-lived.
31.
Sharp weapons are inauspicious instruments.
Everyone hates them.
Therefore the man of the Tao is not comfortable with them.
In the domestic affairs of the gentleman
The left is the position of honor.
In military affairs the right is the position of honor.
Since weapons are inauspicious instruments, they are not the instruments of the gentleman
So he uses them without enjoyment
And values plainness.
Victory is never sweet.
Those for whom victory is sweet
Are those who enjoy killing.
If you enjoy killing, you cannot gain the trust of the people.
On auspicious occasions the place of honor is on the left.
On inauspicious occasions the place of honor is on the right.
The lieutenant commander stands on the left.
The commander-in-chief stands on the right.
And they speak, using the funerary rites to bury them.
The common people, from whom all the dead have come
Weep in lamentation.
The victors bury them with funerary rites.
32.
The Tao is always nameless.
And even though a sapling might be small
No one can make it be his subject.
If rulers could embody this principle
The myriad things would follow on their own.
Heaven and Earth would be in perfect accord
And rain sweet dew.
People, unable to deal with It on its own terms
Make adjustments;
And so you have the beginning of division into names.
Since there are already plenty of names
You should know where to stop.
Knowing where to stop, you can avoid danger.
The Tao's existence in the world
Is like valley streams running into the rivers and seas.
33.
If you understand others you are smart.
If you understand yourself you are illuminated.
If you overcome others you are powerful.
If you overcome yourself you have strength.
If you know how to be satisfied you are rich.
If you can act with vigor, you have a will.
If you don't lose your objectives you can be long-lasting.
If you die without loss, you are eternal.
34.
The Tao is like a great flooding river. How can it be directed to the left or right? The myriad things rely on it for their life but do not distinguish it.
It brings to completion but cannot be said to exist.
It clothes and feeds all things without lording over them.
It is always desireless, so we call it "the small."
The myriad things return to it and it doesn't exact lordship
Thus it can be called "great."
Till the end, it does not regard itself as Great.
Therefore it actualizes its greatness.
35.
Holding to the Great Form
All pass away.
They pass away unharmed, resting in Great Peace.
It is for food and music that the passing traveler stops.
When the Tao appears from its opening
It is so subtle, it has no taste.
Look at it, you cannot see it.
Listen, you cannot hear it.
Use it
You cannot exhaust it.
36.
That which will be shrunk
Must first be stretched.
That which will be weakened
Must first be strengthened.
That which will be torn down
Must first be raised up.
That which will be taken
Must first be given.
This is called "subtle illumination."
The gentle and soft overcomes the hard and aggressive.
A fish cannot leave the water.
The country's potent weapons
Should not be shown to its people.
37.
The Tao is always "not-doing"
Yet there is nothing it doesn't do.
If the ruler is able to embody it
Everything will naturally change.
Being changed, they desire to act.
So I must restrain them, using the nameless "uncarved block (original mind)."
Using the nameless uncarved block
They become desireless.
Desireless, they are tranquil and
All-under-Heaven is naturally settled.
38.
True virtue is not virtuous
Therefore it has virtue.
Superficial virtue never fails to be virtuous
Therefore it has no virtue.
True virtue does not "act"
And has no intentions.
Superficial virtue "acts"
And always has intentions.
True jen "acts"
But has no intentions.
True righteousness "acts"
But but has intentions.
True propriety "acts" and if you don't respond
They will roll up their sleeves and threaten you.
Thus, when the Tao is lost there is virtue
When virtue is lost there is jen
When jen is lost there is Justice
And when Justice is lost there is propriety.
Now "propriety" is the external appearance of loyalty and sincerity
And the beginning of disorder.
Occult abilities are just flowers of the Tao
And the beginning of foolishness.
Therefore the Master dwells in the substantial
And not in the superficial.
Rests in the fruit and not in the flower.
So let go of that and grasp this.
39.
These in the past have attained wholeness:
Heaven attains wholeness with its clarity;
The Earth attains wholeness with its firmness;
The Spirit attains wholeness with its transcendence;
The Valley attain wholeness when filled;
The Myriad Things attain wholeness in life;
The Ruler attains wholeness in the correct governance of the people.
In effecting this:
If Heaven lacked clarity it would be divided;
If the Earth lacked firmness it would fly away;
If the spirit lacked transcendence it would be exhausted;
If the valley lacked fullness it would be depleted;
If the myriad things lacked life they would vanish.
If the ruler lacks nobility and loftiness he will be tripped up.
Hence
Nobility has lowliness as its root
The High has the Low as its base.
Thus the kings call themselves "the orphan, the lowly, the unworthy."
Is this not taking lowliness as the fundamental? Isn't it?
In this way you can bring about great effect without burden.
Not desiring the rarity of gems
Or the manyness of grains of sand.
40.
Return is the motion of the Tao.
Softening is its function.
All things in the cosmos arise from being.
Being arises from non-being.
41.
When superior students hear of the Tao
They strive to practice it.
When middling students hear of the Tao
They sometimes keep it and sometimes lose it.
When inferior students hear of the Tao
They have a big laugh.
But "not laughing" in itself is not sufficient to be called the Tao, and therefore it is said:
The sparkling Tao seems dark
Advancing in the Tao seems like regression.
Settling into the Tao seems rough.
True virtue is like a valley.
The immaculate seems humble.
Extensive virtue seems insufficient.
Established virtue seems deceptive.
The face of reality seems to change.
The great square has no corners.
Great ability takes a long time to perfect.
Great sound is hard to hear.
The great form has no shape.
The Tao is hidden and nameless.
This is exactly why the Tao is good at developing and perfecting.
42.
The Tao produces one, one produces two.
The two produce the three and the three produce all things.
All things submit to yin and embrace yang.
They soften their energy to achieve harmony.
People hate to think of themselves as "orphan," "lowly," and "unworthy"
Yet the kings call themselves by these names.
Some lose and yet gain,
Others gain and yet lose.
That which is taught by the people
I also teach:
"The forceful do not choose their place of death."
I regard this as the father of all teachings.
43.
The softest thing in the world
Will overcome the hardest.
Non-being can enter where there is no space.
Therefore I know the benefit of unattached action.
The wordless teaching and unattached action
Are rarely seen.
44.
Which is dearer, fame or your life?
Which is greater, your life or possessions?
Which is more painful, gain or loss?
Therefore we always pay a great price for excessive love
And suffer deep loss for great accumulation.
Knowing what is enough, you will not be humiliated.
Knowing where to stop, you will not be imperiled
And can be long-lasting.
45.
Great perfection seems flawed, yet functions without a hitch.
Great fullness seems empty, yet functions without exhaustion.
Great straightness seems crooked,
Great skill seems clumsy,
Great eloquence seems stammering.
Excitement overcomes cold, stillness overcomes heat.
Clarity and stillness set everything right.
46.
When the Tao prevails in the land
The horses leisurely graze and fertilize the ground.
When the Tao is lacking in the land
War horses are bred outside the city.
Natural disasters are not as bad as not knowing what is enough.
Loss is not as bad as wanting more.
Therefore the sufficiency that comes from knowing what is enough is an eternal sufficiency.
47.
Without going out the door, knowing everything,
Without peaking out the windowshades, seeing the Way of Heaven.
The further you go, the less you know.
The sage understands without having to go through the whole process.
She is famous without showing herself.
Is perfected without striving.
48.
In studying, each day something is gained.
In following the Tao, each day something is lost.
Lost and again lost.
Until there is nothing left to do.
Not-doing, nothing is left undone.
You can possess the world by never manipulating it.
No matter how much you manipulate
You can never possess the world.
49.
The sage has no fixed mind,
She takes the mind of the people as her mind.
I treat the good as good, I also treat the evil as good.
This is true goodness.
I trust the trustworthy, I also trust the untrustworthy.
This is real trust.
When the sage lives with people, she harmonizes with them
And conceals her mind for them.
The sages treat them as their little children.
50.
Coming into life and entering death,
The followers of life are three in ten.
The followers of death are three in ten.
Those whose life activity is their death ground are three in ten.
Why is this?
Because they live life grasping for its rich taste.
Now I have heard that those who are expert in handling life
Can travel the land without meeting tigers and rhinos,
Can enter battle without being wounded.
The rhino has no place to plant its horn,
The tiger has no place to place its claws,
Weapons find no place to receive their sharp edges.
Why?
Because he has no death-ground.
51.
Tao gives birth to it,
Virtue rears it,
Materiality shapes it,
Activity perfects it.
Therefore, there are none of the myriad things who do not venerate the Tao or esteem its virtue.
This veneration of the Tao and esteeming of its virtue is something they do naturally, without being forced.
Therefore, Tao gives birth.
Its virtue rears, develops, raises, adjusts and disciplines,
Nourishes, covers and protects,
Produces but does not possess,
Acts without expectation,
Leads without forcing.
This is called "Mysterious Virtue."
52.
All things have a beginning, which we can regard as their Mother.
Knowing the mother, we can know its children.
Knowing the children, yet still cleaving to the mother
You can die without pain.
Stop up the holes
Shut the doors,
You can finish your life without anxiety.
Open the doors,
Increase your involvements,
In the end you can't be helped.
Seeing the subtle is called illumination.
Keeping flexible is called strength.
Use the illumination, but return to the light.
Don't bring harm to yourself.
This is called "practicing the eternal."
53.
If I had just a little bit of wisdom
I should walk the Great Path and fear only straying from it.
Though the Way is quite broad
People love shortcuts.
The court is immaculate,
While the fields are overgrown with weeds,
And the granaries are empty.
They wear silk finery,
Carry sharp swords,
Sate themselves on food and drink
Having wealth in excess.
They are called thieving braggarts.
This is definitely not the Way.
54.
The well-established cannot be uprooted.
The well-grasped does not slip away.
Generation after generation carries out the ancestor worship without break.
Cultivate it in yourself and virtue will be real.
Cultivate it in the family and virtue will overflow.
Cultivate it in the town and virtue will be great.
Cultivate it in the country and virtue will abundant.
Cultivate it in the world and virtue will be everywhere.
Therefore, take yourself and observe yourself.
Take the family and observe the family.
Take the town and observe the town.
Take the country and observe the country.
Take the world and observe the world.
How do I know the world as it is?
By this.
55.
One who remains rich in virtuous power
Is like a newborn baby.
Bees, scorpions and venomous snakes do not bite it,
The wild beasts do not attack it,
Birds of prey do not sink their claws into it.
Though its bones are weak
And muscles soft,
Its grip is strong.
Without knowing of the blending of male and female
S/he is a perfect production,
The ultimate in vitality.
S/he cries all day without getting hoarse.
S/he is the ultimate in harmony.
Understanding harmony is called the Constant.
Knowing the Constant is called illumination.
Nourishing life is called blessing.
Having control of your breath is called strength.
After things blossom they decay, and
This is called the non-Tao.
The non-Tao expires quickly.
56.
She who knows does not speak.
She who speaks does not know.
Close your holes, shut your doors,
Soften your sharpness, loosen your knots.
Soften your glare and merge with the everyday.
This is called mysteriously attaining oneness.
Though you cannot possess it, you are intimate with it
And at the same time, distant.
Though you cannot possess it, you are benefitted by it,
And harmed by it.
You cannot possess it, but are esteemed through it
And humbled by it.
Therefore the world values you.
57.
*** Use fairness in governing the state.
Use surprise tactics in war.
Be unconcerned and you will have the world.
How do I know it is like this?
Because:
The more regulations there are,
The poorer people become.
The more people own lethal weapons,
The more darkened are the country and clans.
The more clever the people are,
The more extraordinary actions they take.
The more picky the laws are,
The more thieves and gangsters there are.
Therefore the sages say:
"I do not force my way and the people transform themselves.
I enjoy my serenity and the people correct themselves.
I do not interfere and the people enrich themselves.
I have no desires
And the people find their original mind.
58.
When the government is laid back
The people are relaxed.
When the government is nitpicking
The people have anxiety.
Misfortune depends upon fortune.
Fortune conceals misfortune.
What has a definite delimitation?
Or abnormality?
The normal reverts to strangeness.
Goodness reverts to perversion.
People certainly have been confused for a long time.
Therefore the sage squares things without cutting.
Edges without separating.
Straightens without lining up.
Shines but does not glare.
59.
In governing the country and serving Heaven
There is nothing like frugality.
Only by being frugal can you recover quickly.
When you recover quickly you accumulate virtue.
Having accumulated virtue,
There is nothing you can't overcome.
When there is nothing you can't overcome
Who knows the limits of your capabilities?
These limits being unfathomable
You can possess the country.
The Mother who possesses the country can be long-living.
This is called "planting the roots deeply and firmly."
The way to long life and eternal vision.
60.
Ruling a large country is like cooking a small fish.
When you govern people with the Tao
Demons will have no power.
Not that they don't have power,
But their power will not harm people.
Since the sage doesn't harm people,
The two will not harm each other.
Here their power merges and returns.
61.
The great state should be like a river basin.
The mixing place of the world,
The feminine of the world.
The feminine always overcomes the masculine by softness
Because softness is lesser.
Therefore if a large state serves a small state
It will gain the small state.
If a small state serves a large state
It will gain the large state.
Therefore some serve in order to gain
And some gain despite their servitude.
The large state wants nothing more
Than to unite and feed its people.
The small state wants nothing more
Than to enter into the service of the right person.
Thus both get what they want.
Greatness lies in placing oneself below.
62.
The Tao is hidden deeply in all things.
It is the treasure of the good
And the refuge of the not-so-good.
With skillful words you can be successful.
With honorable actions you can be included.
People may not be so good, but how can you deny them?
Therefore, even though there are great jewels brought in by teams of horses at the coronation of the emperor and the installation of the three princes,
This is not as good as staying where you are
And advancing in this Tao.
Why did the ancients so value the Tao?
You can't say that it was for seeking gain
Or to have punishments to deter crime.
Therefore it is the most prized in the world.
63.
Do without "doing."
Get involved without manipulating.
Taste without tasting.
Make the great small,
The many, few.
Respond to anger with virtue.
Deal with difficulties while they are still easy.
Handle the great while it is still small.
The difficult problems in life
Always start off being simple.
Great affairs always start off being small.
Therefore the sage never deals with the great
And is able to actualize his greatness.
Now light words generate little belief,
Much ease turns into much difficulty.
Therefore the sage treats things as though they were difficult,
And hence, never has difficulty.
64.
That which is at rest is easy to grasp.
That which has not yet come about is easy to plan for.
That which is fragile is easily broken.
That which is minute is easily scattered.
Handle things before they arise.
Manage affairs before they are in a mess.
A thick tree grows from a tiny seed.
A tall building arises from a mound of earth.
A journey of a thousand miles starts with one step.
Contriving, you are defeated;
Grasping, you lose.
The sage doesn't contrive, so she isn't beaten.
Not grasping, she doesn't lose.
When people are carrying out their projects
They usually blow it at the end.
If you are as careful at the end
As you were at the beginning,
You won't be disappointed.
Therefore the sage desires non-desire,
Does not value rare goods,
Studies the unlearnable
So that she can correct the mistakes of average people
And aid all things in manifesting their true nature
Without presuming to take the initiative.
65.
The ancients who were skillful at the Tao
Did not illuminate the people
But rather kept them simple.
When the people are difficult to rule
It is because of their cleverness.
Therefore
If you use cleverness to rule the state
You are a robber of the state.
If you don't use cleverness to rule the state
You are a blessing to the state.
If you understand these two points, you know the proper norm for governing To be continuously understanding the proper norm is called
Mysterious Virtue.
How deep and far-reaching Mysterious Virtue is!
It makes all return
Until they reach the Great Norm.
66.
The reason the river and sea can be regarded as
The rulers of all the valley streams
Is because of their being below them.
Therefore they can be their rulers.
So if you want to be over people
You must speak humbly to them.
If you want to lead them
You must place yourself behind them.
Thus the sage is positioned above
And the people do not feel oppressed.
He is in front and they feel nothing wrong.
Therefore they like to push him front and never resent him.
Since he does not contend
No one can contend with him.
67.
The reason everybody calls my Tao great
Is because there is nothing quite like it.
It is exactly because it is great
That there is nothing quite like it.
If there were something that were consistently like it
How could it be small?
I have three treasures which I hold and cherish.
The first is compassion,
The second is frugality,
The third is not daring to put myself ahead of everybody.
Having compassion, I can be brave.
Having frugality, I can be generous.
Not daring to put myself ahead of everybody
I can take the time to perfect my abilities.
Now if I am brave without compassion
Generous without frugality, or
Go to the fore without putting my own concerns last,
I might as well be dead.
If you wage war with compassion you will win.
If you protect yourself with compassion you will be impervious.
Heaven will take care of you,
Protecting you with compassion.
68.
The best warrior is never aggressive.
The best fighter is never angry.
The best tactician does not engage the enemy.
The best utilizer of people's talents places himself below them.
This is called the virtue of non-contention.
It is called the ability to engage people's talents.
It is called the ultimate in merging with Heaven.
69.
Strategists have a saying:
"I prefer to be able to move, rather than be in a fixed position
Prefer to retreat a foot rather than advancing an inch."
This is called progress without advancing;
Preparing without showing off;
Smashing where there is no defense;
Taking him without a fight.
There is no greater danger than under-estimating your opponent.
If I under-estimate my opponent
I will lose that which is most dear.
Therefore
When opponents clash
The one who is sorry about it will be the winner.
70.
My words are easy to understand
And easy to practice.
Yet nobody understands them or practices them.
My words have an origin;
My actions have a principle.
It is only because of your not understanding this
That you do not understand me.
Since there are few who understand me
I am valued.
Therefore the sage wears coarse clothes.
Yet hides a jewel in his bosom.
71.
There is nothing better than to know that you don't know.
Not knowing, yet thinking you know--
This is sickness.
Only when you are sick of being sick
Can you be cured.
The sage's not being sick
Is because she is sick of sickness.
Therefore she is not sick.
72.
When the people do not fear your might
Then your might has truly become great.
Don't interfere with their household affairs.
Don't oppress their livelihood.
If you don't oppress them they won't feel oppressed.
Thus the sage understands herself
But does not show herself.
Loves herself
But does not prize herself.
Therefore she lets go of that
And takes this.
73.
If you are courageous in daring you will die.
If you are courageous in not-daring you will live.
Among these two, one is beneficial and the other is harmful.
Who understands the reason why Heaven dislikes what it dislikes?
Even the sage has difficulty in knowing this.
The Way of Heaven is to win easily without struggle.
To respond well without words,
To naturally come without special invitation,
To plan well without anxiety.
Heaven's net is vast.
It is loose.
Yet nothing slips through.
74.
If the people don't fear death
How will you scare them with death?
If you make the people continuously fear death
By seizing anybody who does something out of the ordinary
And killing them,
Who will dare to move?
There is always an official executioner to handle this.
If you play the role of the official executioner
It is like cutting wood in the capacity of Master Carpenter.
There are few who will not cut their hands.
75.
The reason people starve
Is because their rulers tax them excessively.
They are difficult to govern
Because their rulers have their own ends in mind.
The reason people take death lightly
Is because they want life to be rich.
Therefore they take death lightly.
It is only by not living for your own ends
That you can go beyond valuing life.
76.
When people are born they are gentle and soft.
At death they are hard and stiff.
When plants are alive they are soft and delicate.
When they die, they wither and dry up.
Therefore the hard and stiff are followers of death.
The gentle and soft are the followers of life.
Thus, if you are aggressive and stiff, you won't win.
When a tree is hard enough, it is cut. Therefore
The hard and big are lesser,
The gentle and soft are greater.
77.
The Way of Heaven
Is like stretching a bow.
The top is pulled down,
The bottom is pulled up.
Excess string is removed
Where more is needed, it is added.
It is the Way of Heaven
To remove where there is excess
And add where there is lack.
The way of people is different:
They take away where there is need
And add where there is surplus.
Who can take his surplus and give it to the people?
Only one who possesses the Tao.
Therefore the sage acts without expectation.
Does not abide in his accomplishments.
Does not want to show his virtue.
78.
Nothing in the world is softer than water,
Yet nothing is better at overcoming the hard and strong.
This is because nothing can alter it.
That the soft overcomes the hard
And the gentle overcomes the aggressive
Is something that everybody knows
But none can do themselves.
Therefore the sages say:
"The one who accepts the dirt of the state
Becomes its master.
The one who accepts its calamity
Becomes king of the world.
Truth seems contradictory.
79.
After calming great anger
There are always resentments left over.
How can this be considered as goodness?
Therefore the sage keeps her part of the deal
And doesn't check up on the other person.
Thus virtuous officials keep their promise
And the crooked ones break it.
The Heavenly Tao has no favorites:
It raises up the Good.
80.
Let there be a small country with few people,
Who, even having much machinery, don't use it.
Who take death seriously and don't wander far away.
Even though they have boats and carriages, they never ride in them.
Having armor and weapons, they never go to war.
Let them return to measurement by tying knots in rope.
Sweeten their food, give them nice clothes, a peaceful abode and a relaxed life.
Even though the next country can be seen and its doges and chickens can be heard,
The people will grow old and die without visiting each others land.
81.
True words are not fancy.
Fancy words are not true.
The good do not debate.
Debaters are not good.
The one who really knows is not broadly learned,
The extensively learned do not really know.
The sage does not hoard,
She gives people her surplus.
Giving her surplus to others she is enriched.
The way of Heaven is to help and not harm.
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