My mother died of cancer when I was was 21, and among a few things of hers that I kept was a copy of the Tao Te Ching.
The Tao was likely written in the six century BC by Lao Tsu. It is a classical Chinese text that lays out the philosophy of Taoism. In its simplest terms, this is a philosophy of accepting things exactly as they are—not desiring reality to be different than it is.
For a few reasons, I’ve decided to re-type the Tao. First, I like this translation quite a bit but the actual book, though beautiful, is large and unweildy. I would like to have a more travel-friendly copy to read. Second, I am hoping to connect more deeply with the text by re-creating it.
My mother acquired this version of the Tao in the later years of her life—there was a period where she was searching, as her cancer progressed. She had some range: Raised in the Presbyterian church, she also explored eastern philosophies and Catholicism.
Did she find what she was looking for? I don’t know. But I find myself on a similar path: wanting to connect with the peace, joy and love which exists in (and is) all of us.
The Tao is short—81 chapters, though only about 5,000 words. And there’s a lot in it.
“The [Tao’s] whole conception of nature is as a self regulating, self-governing, indeed democratic organism. But it has a totality, it all goes together and this totality is the Tao.”
So … A few thoughts on these first sections.
“The Tao that can be told is not the eternal Tao.” … the finger pointing to the moon is just a pointer, a direction—don’t mistake it for the moon itself. “Ever desireless, one can see the mystery.” … Basic ideas of non-attachment.
Charles Johnston’s translation and commentary explains it:
“He who relinquishes attachment to external nature finds his way to the spiritual consciousness which is the Life behind nature. He finds the Way, the door of spiritual life.”
“Having and not having arise together.” … Non-dualism; there is no life without death, “good” without “bad,” no beginning without an end. These aren’t opposites but natural companions and one cannot exist without the other.
“If nothing is done, then all will be well.” … This isn’t an admonition to do nothing, but to work with the universe and the ways of nature rather than against it.
Or, as is inscribed on the headstone of Charles Bukowski: “Don’t try.”
You might think of Bukowski as a misogynistic, alcoholic chronicler of skid row—and he was. But he also came quite naturally to a kind of booze-addled Tao-tinged approach to life. When asked how he wrote, he replied in a 1963 letter:
“You don’t try. That’s very important: ‘not’ to try, either for Cadillacs, creation or immortality. You wait, and if nothing happens, you wait some more. It’s like a bug high on the wall. You wait for it to come to you. When it gets close enough you reach out, slap out and kill it. Or if you like its looks you make a pet out of it.”
I’m not sure about killing the bug, but the rest sounds right to me.
