The Art of Effortless Living (Taoist Documentary)

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We won't make the change. Nature will make it for us.

👍︎︎ 13 👤︎︎ u/TheOriginal_V1S10N 📅︎︎ May 22 2020 🗫︎ replies

No it isnt

👍︎︎ 4 👤︎︎ u/[deleted] 📅︎︎ May 22 2020 🗫︎ replies

All this CONCERN is the furthest thing from Taoism. “Everyone needs to do XYZ, or else the planet will die”, is just pure concern signaling and little else.

👍︎︎ 3 👤︎︎ u/ShadowedSpoon 📅︎︎ May 22 2020 🗫︎ replies
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Our suffering as a species comes from the incorrect perception of living in the past through our attachment to memories that then shape our future. The phantoms of past and future are only of use to the intellect, because it gives individuals the idea that they are in control of their lives. Yet, as an individual grows, he begins to understand that no matter how grandiose his attempts at control, life always has a way of changing those plans. And in doing so, life also destroys the individual’s imagined ability to control the future outcome. This mentality of forcing ourselves upon life is the socially accepted practice of modern civilization. An individual’s attempt to control life according to her own beliefs, and as a result to force this perspective upon others, is the beginning of tyranny. Lao-tzu’s essential teaching of wu-wei, on the other hand, illustrates the futility of our attempts to control life. He emphasizes that it is only when you give up forcing or controlling anything that you begin to get the kind of control you always wanted, but never knew existed. The Taoism of Lao-tzu was about the Way, the Tao, which is something we experience when we are more attentive to our inner and outer worlds. The Tao can be followed and experientially known when we have surrendered our controlled, conditioned identity over to the effortless realm of spontaneity and trust, wu-wei. Translated into English, wu-wei means “nondoing,” “nonaction,” or “effortless action.” These translations are literally correct and lead us to the intuitive and ultimate psychological experience of wu-wei. This effortless psychological experience means “not forcing” or “allowing,” a state of “intelligent spontaneity.” This effortless realm is why the Tao is usually referred to as “the way of nature,” because when we follow the Way, we can experience the same spontaneity of nature within our own experience; as a result, we trust our path through life. The discovery of this spontaneity in life allows us to sink deeply into the awareness that we are nature and not separate from any aspect of it. The essential teaching of wu-wei can only be known if the individual is sincere in surrendering control and, as a result, giving his life over to something much bigger than himself. Tao is That which is bigger than our personal lives. Its depth of understanding is vast. Wu-wei is the fragrance of Tao. It is the spiritual attitude that is expressed and lived by many adepts, gurus, masters, saints, sages, shamans, and yogis. When we discover the flow of Tao moving within our own lives, as a sage does, we begin to be receptive to where our experience in life is leading us. We cease clinging to the experiences of the past and instead become rejuvenated in the present. The future becomes nothing more than a mirage, as the pure transparency and reflectivity of our consciousness begins to be absorbed in the feminine womb of the Tao. When you don’t force yourself upon life, you discover that you are life. All our vain attempts to control life result from the way we are raised, because our culture and society influence us to believe that we do not belong to the world. We are taught to feel like aliens in this world, like in a great cosmic joke with no punch line. We are raised to believe that we exist in a hostile universe, so we ought to fear one another and never trust anyone. This ideology is bringing the human race to its knees. At the rate of speed that we are polarizing ourselves, it is hard to imagine there will be any remnants of higher, conscious life on this planet a thousand years from now. Our lack of trust is destroying our civilization and also causing a huge dent in the animal, plant, and mineral kingdoms. This type of neurosis has gotten to the point that on an individual level we do not even trust our own psychological states. We do not act authentically, and we confuse our identity with our social identity. In being mere shadows of who we are, we cause violence toward others, condemn anyone who opposes our opinion, and hypnotically hurt those we love. All of this is done in the name of force and control. Social and cultural norms teach us this dichotomy. To act or function any other way is, from the point of view of the status quo, absurd. Government, organized religion, society, and culture mark the physical advent of the trust that is lacking within the individual. If individuals lose their natural essence of trust, then some form of external tyranny in the guise of a trustworthy parental figure will take its place. Individuals fail to trust themselves, and this is why a lot people ignorantly trust their government without question. In giving our power away to government, the individual begins to depend on the government as a parent, rather than seeing it in its original position— as a servant to the individual. Our lack of responsibility implies our lack of trust in ourselves. Government is a phantom into which we invest too much energy. Individuals who sincerely trust themselves and others threaten the established order of culture, society, organized religion, and government. This threat could only become a reality if the truth of Tao is regained and a trust in life is realized. Wu-wei is the Taoist principle of trust. The trust of wu-wei threatens any governmental, social, religious, and cultural landscape. We align with our innate trust when we are not forcing and instead allow life to take place. This capacity to align with your innate trust brings you back in harmony with the entire unfolding of the cosmos. To go with the grain or with a stream, one is not bound to the past, nor does one yearn for the future. We cannot unite with the source of Tao unless we have given our life over to the nondoing, nonforcing, and nonreactive realm of wu-wei. Lao-tzu’s essential wisdom is nothing more than that of an individual who can follow the effortless grace of wu-wei within her mind. Everything else that has developed around Lao-tzu’s essential wisdom is a way either to get to the understanding of wu-wei or to delay our enlightenment through habitual crutches that take the form of spiritual exercises and practices. From the perspective of the ancient masters Lao-tzu and Chuang-tzu, enlightenment can only be realized in the ability to live wu-wei. The practice of wu-wei is the vehicle we use to realize our innate freedom. The Taoism of Lao-tzu emphasizes that if we do not let individuals grow as nature intended, they will lose their naturalness and be drawn into the world of animal drives, desires, attachments, and ultimately suffering. This difference in the depth of understanding between Laotzu and Confucius is articulated in an imaginary dialogue created by Chuang-tzu: “Tell me,” said Lao-tzu, “in what consist charity and duty to one’s neighbour?” “They consist,” answered Confucius, “in a capacity for rejoicing in all things; in universal love, without the element of self. These are the characteristics of charity and duty to one’s neighbour.” “What stuff!” cried Lao-tzu. “Does not universal love contradict itself? Is not your elimination of self a positive manifestation of self? Sir, if you would cause the empire not to lose its source of nourishment—there is the universe, its regularity is unceasing; there are the sun and moon, their brightness is unceasing; there are the stars, their groupings never change; there are the birds and beasts, they flock together without varying; there are the trees and shrubs, they grow upwards without exception. Be like these: follow Tao, and you will be perfect. Why then these vain struggles after charity and duty to one’s neighbour, as though beating a drum in search of a fugitive. Alas! Sir, you have brought much confusion into the mind of man.” In this imaginary dialogue, Lao-tzu reiterates that if we interfere in the natural process of any living organism, it will begin to isolate itself from the complementary parts of the whole. This isolation brings about a disassociation from the whole, so that a lack of trust plagues the mind. Confucius’s ideas of charity and duty to one’s neighbor are ageold teachings, which artists, philosophers, and spiritual teachers have contemplated from the dawn of civilization to the present day. On the surface, we may all feel convinced that he is correct in postulating that we have a duty to others. But the Taoist Way of Lao-tzu suggests that in attempting to interfere with others’ affairs, no matter how large or small, we are assuming that the natural experience of life is not happening spontaneously; instead we think that life is a series of controlled steps following a predictable and mechanical process. Lao-tzu is not saying that we should abolish duty or charity. He is saying that everything in the universe is integral and symbiotic in nature, and that everything functions harmoniously according to the rhythm of the universe. So, he asks, why would humanity be the exception? The Way of the Tao and our experience of it comes from allowing all aspects of the universe to happen as they will without conscious interference. This understanding of Tao is a trust in and affirmation of life that cannot be broken. Humanity’s superficial differences could be dissolved if each individual could live by this trust. Yet society and culture have been built on ideologies such as Confucianism, communism, and democracy, which all teach us in some way to impose our will over one another, a goal based on the erroneous idea that we are achieving freedom in this process. To trust the Way of the Tao is the complete backflip to Confucianism or any present-day ideology or theology. Lao-tzu’s wisdom exposes humanity’s selfish tendency to impose the will of one individual, nation, religion, race, or gender over another. We are always interfering with each other’s natural sovereignty. Many people arrogantly and ignorantly do this daily and then proclaim that they know what freedom and love are. How can we listen and help each other if it is merely from our own cultural, social, or religious perspective? If we have a set of beliefs to sell another, then we are surely imposing our idea of life upon her without letting her grow as nature intended. It is this personal agenda that Lao-tzu reveals. If we interfere unnecessarily with any organism on this planet, we hinder its growth through our attempt to control it. When it is interfered with, an organism finds itself in a struggle to grow into everything it should be. As a result, the organism’s natural impulse to grow is met with resistance by another organism, which assumes that it is superior to all life and needs no other organisms to survive. We could say human beings fit perfectly into this category because of the personal agendas we wish to cast upon the world. These agendas could only have developed in a world devoid of trust. Because we live in fear instead of trust, our world is designed so clinically that it resembles not a beautiful garden but a morgue. The Confucian imperative to dictate a social way of life to the individual builds an identity conditioned by the world of concepts and objects rather than the inner world of emotions, feelings, and thoughts. Yet we should not be critical of the Confucian perspective only, because any ideology or theology, no matter how well intended, is at its foundation strictly a methodology for shaping the individual according to its beliefs. Lao-tzu points to this in the Tao Te Ching. He says that humanity is in a perpetual trap in which we seek to change one another or society based on our own belief systems. Because we have not made our inner world conscious, we continue to seek change in the external world of forms, as if the inner world were a construct of the outer. Many theologies and ideologies operate from this perspective. But this is an absurd view for the simple reason that the world is devoid of meaning until the observer gives it meaning according to her beliefs. This should be fundamental to the way we think and perceive the world. But instead we are told that the world is purely material by the teachers of our cultural, social, religious, and educational machine, who themselves have been indoctrinated. To cultivate a sane society, we first need to understand that our perception was pure before it was colored by external influences. And all of these external influences are interpreted differently by each individual, which adds to the confusion. Patanjali, the great sage of India and father of yoga, expresses this sentiment in the wisdom of three of his sutras regarding freedom: "People perceive the same object differently, as each person’s perception follows a separate path from another’s. But the object is not dependent on either of those perceptions; if it were, what would happen to it when nobody was looking? An object is known only by a consciousness it has colored; otherwise it is not known." We have built a world that operates in reverse to the natural order of growth and harmonious living. The world’s general view identifies with what colors consciousness rather than with the unbound and limitless pure awareness at the core of our being. Lao-tzu’s essential teaching of wu-wei is a medicine for this illness. But you must understand that wu-wei is not an ideology, theology, or something you need to believe in. On the contrary, wu-wei can only be known through your own experience. Then it simply strengthens your trust in wu-wei. The natural order of growth and harmony depends upon allowing life to take its course without conscious interference. This is how the Tao flows when wu-wei is experienced. Many people resist the very thought of allowing things to take place in life, because from our perspective we can’t see how anything could be achieved in that way. But if we are more observant, we discover that each and every attempt to categorically control our life is invariably upended by the spontaneity of natural experience. No human being is above this universal spontaneity. And yet many people seek to control life down to the finest detail, failing to realize that the very things that shaped their identity were beyond their control. The impulse to control life is a symptom of the power that we believe we have lost. But true power resides in the mind of one who is liberated from the acquisition of wealth and the control of others. When we give up attempting to control life, we find that we are no longer clinging to or conditioned by any aspect of life. Thus we are freed from its attachments. The most liberated people on this planet have been those who were free in this way, such as the twentieth-century Indian sage Sri Ramana Maharshi. The virtuous individual always presents danger to social, religious, and cultural systems that seek to bind humanity with superficial constraints. The individual who knows and follows the Tao is a threat because his way of being is liberated from the shackles of external influence. From the cultural, religious, and social perspective, these individuals are rebels who threaten to disrupt the hypnosis of the status quo. This is why we see the unceremonious killing of such figures who know and follow Tao, such as Jesus of Nazareth (no matter whether you take the story of Jesus to be real or metaphor). True and eternal freedom is loathed by the tyrants of cultural, ideological, theological, social, and religious dogmas, because when we are liberated by the true freedom that we can only find within us, we cease to conform to the machinations of tyranny. Artists, mystics, philosophers, scientists, and the spiritually inclined all exhibit this exalted state through their own creativity and humility, which often exposes the flaws of a system that seeks to dictate to the masses. The rebellion of Lao-tzu’s Taoist Way has always posed a threat to the established order, especially in China. True Taoism was suppressed in the first decades of the People’s Republic of China (with people even persecuted during the Cultural Revolution), though it continued to be practiced in Taiwan. Taoism has often been scorned because the essential Taoist teaching of wu-wei is about surrendering your life into the comforting arms and the Way of the universe rather than conforming to social ethics. The Absolute Tao is the prerogative of the original Taoist. But this sincerity is confusing to any established order, because the Tao of Lao-tzu is as vast as it is vague, and so it escapes conventional thought and behavior. An authentic Taoist is often thought of as a soothsayer or witch, because our world seeks to find definitions for everything. This absurd definition gives the masses some sort of psychological closure, as if they now somehow understood Tao. But what Lao-tzu and other Taoists knew within themselves is beyond intellectual debate or conjecture. This eternal truth, known only by some people, frustrates those who know it not. In the eyes of an established ideology, theology, or organized religion, this experiential truth disrupts the social indoctrination that keeps the masses moving to the beat of someone else’s drum. This is one of the main reasons why Lao-tzu’s Tao conflicts with Confucius’s ideology. Lao-tzu understood that any form of social or cultural hierarchy destroys the awareness of trust in the universe. Confucius could not accept this, because his approach was only for those who governed. He thought if those who governed were liberated and morally noble, society would benefit. In truth, this view is not oriented toward the freedom of the individual; rather it is a clever system devised to manage society without the people of that society questioning their position. Democracy is similar. The ideology of democracy tries to maintain a society’s comfort and convenience based on liberal views, so that the bigger questions of life are never asked of those imposing democracy upon the people. The hierarchical systems of governments, banking, corporations, and royalty end up becoming tyrants rather than servants. Yet according to Lao-tzu, if any system is devised to control anything, then we have ceased to follow the Way of nature. Then control invariably turns into a selfish and corrupting urge to lord it over others. As John Dalberg-Acton, the English Catholic historian, politician, and writer, wrote in 1887, “Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Great men are almost always bad men.” Selfish power has corrupted the world with the belief that we can control life within a fixed reality that is devoid of spontaneity. Evolution, on the other hand, means pushing the limitations of our minds and the traditional boundaries we have constructed. Confucianism, the religion of Taoism, and other religious traditions are being tested in the modern era. Their dogmas have become exhausted, and the world is becoming attuned to an authentic spirituality, as a new awareness of ourselves in relation to each other, the world, and the universe is developing. Tradition is not intrinsically bad, and many traditions can be beautiful. But they lose this beauty, and they become psychologically damaging, when they set up dogmas to imprison the mind. We only have to look at modern-day Christianity for an example. The Way of Lao-tzu was to never be attached to any tradition that imprisoned our mind because if we hold our center within, we will move with the evolutionary energies of the universe without resistance. These evolutionary energies materialize as synchronicity on the level of the conscious mind. Though traditions may come and go, their remnants sometimes linger within the collective consciousness for some time. The continent of Asia is a good example, because even though the ideology of Confucianism is often unacknowledged as a prevailing system of thought, the dogmatic beliefs of that socioeconomic religious ideology still keep people from embracing change. These dogmas are bringing tenseness and frustration into the lives of the common people, because the collective consciousness has evolved past such rigid traditions, much as we are evolving past the vain materialism of the West and its attempts to shove liberalism down everybody’s throat. Consciousness is dancing to a new rhythm and vibration, both collectively and individually. There is an organic pattern, or we could say order of the universe, that is a blueprint for nature to express its beauty. In Chinese this is called li (理). Li is usually translated as the markings in jade, grain in wood, and fiber in muscle. It is supposed to signify a definite pattern that originates within an organism as its nature and comes into existence when an organism harmonizes with the Tao. This li principle is usually thought of as Neo-Confucian rather than Taoist, because it differs from the Confucian virtue of li (禮), which is based on correct understanding and practice of rites and ceremonies. The Confucian concept of li has no relevance to the Way of Lao-tzu or to the harmony of nature. Nor is it relevant to wu-wei. Nature exhibits the Taoist li (理) always, as the mineral, plant, and animal kingdoms are not intelligences that could try to disrupt its harmony. The human kingdom, on the other hand, being the highest form of intelligence on this planet, constantly seeks to challenge nature’s laws and rhythms. Humanity has a schizoid sense that we are somehow alien to this planet. Yet we depend on nature for everything that gives us life. Without the food that we eat or the air that we breathe, we would not have evolved out of the lower kingdoms. We feel alienated from all other life because we perceive only a linear world. From this convoluted view, we build our communities on linear systems. The society is a construct of designed systems, such as organized culture, government, politics, and religion, which all oppose natural laws and swim against the current of Tao. We erroneously uphold these systems because we feel that life would be nothing without them. Yet they are built on the notion that we can control nature’s pattern, li. The destruction of nature for material gain is a result of these systems’ effect on the human mind. We pay more attention to our own indoctrination than to the actual world that gives us life. Nature, being nonlinear, cannot be understood by a humanity shaped by a linear perspective. From this standpoint, we seek to lord it over nature because we do not understand it. Yet according to Lao-tzu and Chuang-tzu, this is the very problem that will lead us into complete and utter annihilation, because in not understanding nature, we do not understand ourselves. The Tao that Chuang-tzu could perceive in everything does not exclude human life. Human life is an intrinsic part of nature because a human being is nature. The fight for control of nature stems from humanity ignoring its own nature, which we do when we adopt external influences that transform us into machines. Our psychology in turn resembles the repetition of a machine rather than the spontaneity of nature. The mind of the average individual is solely focused on the maintenance and upkeep of a linear system. Such a person is unlikely to allocate any energy toward her own inner world, because that would conflict with her linear habits. But this orientation toward the outer world is going to lead us into the arms of annihilation if we do not realize that all natural growth comes from within the organism. And all of nature’s constituents, including human beings, function according to this universal pattern. Nature’s harmony can be disturbed but never eradicated, because the Tao courses through the patterns of li. Organisms that challenge this order do not fare well. We generally ignore the fact that the organic pattern and principle of li are within the human organism too. The organic pattern of li within the ecosystem is the same intelligence that is found in our nerves, senses, and ultimately our cognitive functions and psychology. This is why those who practice spiritual cultivation usually have a harmonious biological and psychological disposition: they show respect to their bodies and minds by refusing to overstimulate them with excessive consumption. The Taoist philosophy of li affirms that anyone can attain a liberated state of harmony with the world, but only if we act in the same way as nature. The ecosystem of nature is nothing like the average modern life of a human being. What, then, would it take for a human to act as nature intended? Nature’s Way is harmonious because each of its components follows its own li, its way of harmonizing with other manifestations of Tao. This mutual resonance and interdependence is known as ying (應) in Chinese, and is another key aspect of Taoist philosophy. It is an essential principle for understanding the effortless mind. The mutual resonance and harmony of nature are only possible in the way they are as the Tao is. When we look into nature, we do not see the busyness and complexity of, say, a city. On the contrary, we perceive a simple world in harmony through the stillness of Tao. Chuang-tzu said that from the still point of the Tao in the center of the circle, one can see the infinite in the world of forms. This means that the mind that is completely empty and still can perceive reality as it truly is. The Tao liberates the mind from its linear constraints by enabling it to follow the Way of nature. To act according to nature requires becoming receptive to the forces of the cosmos, which can only be received in the complete stilling of the mind. The process of settling the ripples of the mind is known as nirodha in Sanskrit, which in Patanjali’s classical yoga means “restriction,” the process of stopping the “whirls” (vritti in Sanskrit) of the mind. This stilling of the mind is the key objective of many forms of meditative practices and Eastern wisdom. Yet, paradoxically, the objective can never be attained if it is thought of as a goal to achieve. This is because the stillness of mind that many people hope to attain is actually our natural state right here and now and not at some future destination. But this realization is veiled by the hypnosis that we have acquired from the external world. Enlightenment right here and now is the sage’s axiom. A sage would ask us, how could we ever attain or achieve something that is already our true nature? This may look simple for sages to realize, but keep in mind that they were also once on a journey of self-discovery. They too had to undergo the process of thinning out their conditioned personality so that they could ultimately recognize that consciousness is naturally transparent and reflective like water. Water acts in the same way as mind. When water is disturbed, it is not transparent or reflective, as the waves and ripples obscure its essence. But when water is completely still, it is in its pure, true state of transparency and reflectivity. The nature of mind is stillness, which is beyond effort. Yet the waves and ripples of conditioning obscure this truth. Emptying your mind of these conditioned habits and latent tendencies, you come face to face, so to speak, with the Tao. The Tao of the Absolute is within our natural stillness, and this natural state is where spontaneity is effortlessly born. Stillness is where the virtue of wu-wei is lived. If we come into contact with the still point of the Tao, then we begin to nourish the rest of existence through the art of living wu-wei. Some of the greatest leaps for humankind will be taken when we face the dire dilemma that binds us to a mechanistic world. Drastic measures are needed to reorient our awareness back toward the natural world of the cosmic unfolding. From a sage’s perspective, the answer to humanity’s plight is not, how do we rid ourselves of these unnatural systems, but instead, how radical are we willing to be? Taoist teaching emphasizes that if we understand the spontaneous function and unfolding of the universe (Tao), then we will not fight this process; if we live effortlessly, with wu-wei, the natural harmony of the cosmos will prevail. We cannot eradicate the established governmental apparatus by governing more. This was one of the major differences between Confucianism and Taoism: Confucian ideology built a strict system whereby one should govern one’s life both within and without in accord with its philosophy. Lao-tzu, on the other hand, would have deemed this perspective absurd, because the fundamental aspects of any external form of governance—control, force, and a search for power—actually put one out of sync with the natural harmony of the universe. As a result, we feel as if we do not belong here. To govern is to control, and control is built from the experiences of the past and a plan for the future. Nature in all its glory is locked out, which is why a different system of government cannot be the way out for us. If we can be sincere in living wu-wei, we will allow the course of Tao to run its path back into harmony through our own nonaction in regard to the dilemma at hand. Revolutions and protests do not change anything, because they are still reacting out of human conditioning and seeking to control life. To govern is to control, to control is to destroy life, and this is what needs to be reversed through the way of nature and wu-wei. Human beings have the intelligence to comprehend the nature of wu-wei. Yet many people do not have the knowledge of wu-wei naturally, through their experience, unlike all other organisms, which would seem to jeopardize our claim to being the most intelligent species on this planet. To seek refuge from these unnatural systems, we need to understand nature itself. The organic pattern of the individual (li) is our innate nature driven by te, virtue. Nature, then, has no relationship to force, control, or power. The order and pattern of nature is not a forced order, as nature is not bound by external influence or control. The Taoist term for nature is the Chinese tzu-jan, which means that which is spontaneously of itself. When a natural organism is in harmony with all life, it grows of itself spontaneously. Tzu-jan can only arise of itself without external compulsion. Tzu-jan is the essence of the yoking process found within the spiritual core of many religions, and especially in the origins of Chinese and Indian wisdom. When we withdraw from our conditioned perception of reality, we come back into nature and grow spontaneously in harmony with all other components of life. What would happen if we let go of control? When we leave the animal, plant, and mineral kingdoms alone, they continue to grow and prosper without any interference. What would happen, then, if we left people alone? From the perspective of traditional Taoism, if we left people alone to follow their own passions and interests, harmony would prevail within community, no matter how large or small. If there were no interference from the external world, people would follow their natures, because passive obedience would no longer be a way of life. We would no longer feel the need to obey unnatural organizational patterns, because in following our own nature we would begin to harmonize with other people and the environment. When we leave life alone, Tao runs its natural course, and all aspects of life come into order without seeking order. Superficially, this perspective may be incorrectly perceived as “anarchy.” But there is a major difference: anarchists’ motives are driven by what they oppose. On the other hand, the sages who understand tzujan just follow their own nature without any concern for institutional or organizational power, because they are content to let such things run their course. An anarchist is still distracted by external influences. So if the world is thrown into anarchy, then the motive destroys the project. Nature is as it is and can have no motive, nor is it a project to embark upon. Tao can never be induced, as its principle happens spontaneously of itself—tzu-jan. Anarchy is an attempt to induce Tao so as to bring about a real order through an intellectual, artificial decision to abandon the ways of society. Though anarchy in some sense is a step in the right direction, it is not a suitable method for liberating the world, because it cannot avoid having an agenda. The Russian evolutionary theorist Peter Kropotkin understood this subtle difference between anarchy and tzu-jan. Kropotkin postulated that if we were to leave people alone to follow their own nature, a real social order and true government would emerge out of the current system. His theory is almost a carbon copy of the Taoist tzu-jan; its depth is equal to the thought of a sage. Yet his political theory was called anarchism (labeled Kropotkin’s Anarchy) so that many people could conveniently put it in a superficial context and believe they understood it. As radical as Kropotkin’s theory may appear, it is this trust in people’s nature that will bring about a true, harmonious government out of the ashes of a dying culture. This is in alignment with Lao-tzu’s wisdom. The true government, according to the Taoist perspective, is the communal power that we attain when we trust one another sincerely to live our own lives without interference. This is the te of the collective, or we could say social virtue, because true government is only realized when we have given up the power to govern. In giving away our power, we gain the sort of power that we truly want, which is beyond control. In the same way that we give our power of virtue away to get a real virtue beyond virtue, we give our power to govern away in order to get a real government beyond government. Life is governed when we leave the world alone to be what it will be. This is the paradox of life, although it confuses our linear, logical view. In the classical Taoist text left behind by Chuang-tzu, known simply as the Chuang-Tzu, he profoundly articulates this teaching: "I have heard of letting the world be, of leaving it alone; I have never heard of governing the world. You let it be for fear of corrupting the inborn nature of the world; you leave it alone for fear of distracting the Virtue of the world. If the nature of the world is not corrupted, if the Virtue of the world is not distracted, why should there be any governing of the world? Long ago, when the sage Yao governed the world, he made the world bright and gleeful; men delighted in their nature, and there was no calmness anywhere. When the tyrant Chieh governed the world, he made the world weary and vexed; men found bitterness in their nature and there was no contentment anywhere. To lack calmness, to lack contentment is to go against Virtue, and there has never been anyone in the world who could go against Virtue and survive for long." In going against our nature, tzu-jan, we not only destroy ourselves but we also contribute to the annihilation of the human race. The government we have created out of our insecurity and irresponsibility has to come to an end, or we as a species will succumb to the fate that all parasites experience. The big question we need to ask is, how do we take steps to sincerely trust others and let them live life as they choose? If we can leave people alone, then the world will naturally heal its wounds and begin to grow in harmony with the Tao. But none of this is possible if we have not confirmed the reality of tzu-jan within our own being. Even though the wisdom of wu-wei and tzu-jan have existed since the time of Lao-tzu, there has always been only a small minority who are sincere in bringing peace into their hearts and the hearts of others. Most humans, on the other hand, resemble a leader of a nation who parades around proclaiming peace through forcing war upon the world. Such insanity exists because individuals’ versions of peace are built on their own agendas and attuned to their conditioning, which is incorrectly identified as pleasure. Many people will not admit this, because they are still identified with the seals and veils of conditioning. In such a state, we are like a tree that is continually pruned to grow straight and rigid. But our nature can never be straight and rigid, because we are eternally connected to the Tao, which is beyond name and form. Even the hypnotic feeling of straightness and rigidity arises out of the Tao, although temporarily, like a wave in an ocean. We can only leave people alone to live their own lives if we are sincere in our own introspection and willing to discard the conditioning that clouds our unity with our brothers and sisters. When we are sincerely humble and free from agendas, we nourish and secretly transform the world—again, through not seeking to transform it. A sage has no agenda, and this brings spiritual oxygen into the world. We all have undergone various sorts of conditioning and we all have the same physical and emotional states, so we can sympathize with the rest of the world, which suffers as a result of the same hypnosis as ours. On the other hand, if we are all inherently the same, we also possess the same qualities that a sage lives by. The I Ching demonstrates through a complex system of sixty-four hexagrams how a small piece of the puzzle can transform the whole system when that small piece allows for change, which puts it back in accord with the Tao. This is to be thought of psychologically. The change in the small piece wears away the edges of its rigid hardness and softens its nature, which is a metaphor for a human allowing the ever-changing universe to soften his rigid conditioning into humility. When this process takes place, tzu-jan, nature, and virtue, te, bring the light of Heaven, tian in Chinese, into the world through the uniqueness of an individual’s li, organic pattern. The I Ching incorporates Taoist principles to intellectually and spiritually verify the reality that a single drop of water in an ocean causes a ripple effect, especially when that droplet is purely reflective and transparent. Tzu-jan is a predominant principle in the I Ching. For example, when a small piece begins to grow spontaneously of itself, it will have an effect on the whole system, which in time will compel the whole to follow suit. All of Taoism is built upon this concept of natural growth, which brings one into accord with the Tao and as a result affects the whole. In observing nature, sages such as Lao-tzu discovered that every organic system grows out of another system whose current state no longer serves its position in life. This is the natural process of growth, death, and rebirth. The organic world does not discard the old but instead grows slowly out of the old into a new state. The organic world builds upon old, because everything in life serves its purpose. Anarchism does not follow this pattern: its method is to oppose the status quo with its own agenda for bringing order to the world. Contrary to this method is the Way of Lao-tzu, which follows the reality of the natural world. Tzu-jan is exactly the way nature is, and human beings are that as well. When we have retreated from external compulsion, we grow spontaneously as nature does and in turn we affect the whole. We are slowly growing out of civilization in its current state, even though the majority of people are not conscious of this change. The paradox here is that if we continue to fight our current system, no natural change can happen, as we still do not trust in the situation at hand. For organic life to grow out of the old and into the new, it has to accept the conditions it has been dealt and begin to resonate on a higher level in order to build upon the lower. Our current social and cultural systems have served their purpose. Nevertheless, they are no longer needed, as our lessons have been learned. Problems arise in the growth of our species when we believe that the past was a mistake. This again reveals a hypnotic sense of not belonging. Real trust acknowledges that everything we have gone through, both individually and collectively, is exactly how it was supposed to be. No matter how much senseless bloodshed has occurred on this planet, it has gotten us to where we are now and could have been no other way, because where we are now is exactly where we need to be. Life is always fundamentally right, but we have to get out of concepts of good and bad to realize this. We have to have an inclusive view of reality rather than the exclusive view we are accustomed to. Tzu-jan can only come to fruition when we trust that everything the universe has produced is fundamentally right and could be no other way. The systems of government, politics, banking, religion, and commerce are unnatural, but they have gotten us to a certain point, and we have learned many lessons from them. It is just that they are no longer needed. The true government of the real world will grow out of the sickness of the old to heal the world from its hypnosis. If we cannot trust the world and the people in it, we stand no chance for survival, because a species at war with itself is doomed. You, the individual, can begin the process, but it really depends on how sincere your trust is. People often say that they trust the universe, but then they consistently condemn life according to their conditioned perspectives. If we are to assimilate wu-wei, we need to be radical enough to let life go its own way. This will allow us to be seeds of growth, which will change the world without our intention to do so. The Tao can only make use of you when you are empty of all that blocks a union between yourself and the universe. The unity we seek is not an intellectual understanding, but instead it is a sense of unity. Yet unity, and a sense of unity, exist only in a liberated mind, which is the authentic contribution that one can make to the possibility of a unified humanity. The root and essence of both consciousness and the universe is that everything is connected and ultimately one. The universe in its awe-inspiring totality produces consciousness, and consciousness evokes the universe. Both are inseparable and paradoxically the same. The big picture and the small picture are one. A sage knows this intrinsically, because the mind, when emptied of all its hypnosis, begins to replicate the eternal space of the universe, showing that the foundation of consciousness is space. Yet this should not be misunderstood. The essence of consciousness is not a blank state, as many spiritual seekers believe. On the contrary, while consciousness is exactly like space in emptiness and vastness, it is also like space in that it contains the whole universe. Consciousness, like space, is always open to new experiences and change. The liberated mind functions in this way, leading to trust. In the same way that consciousness evokes the universe, so does trust evoke a sense of oneness in the individual. The truth and reality of the universe and consciousness are one, but trust is where the oneness is realized within our being. When you trust the universe, you become one with it. Wu-wei dawns upon the individual in the same way, because when we let go of control, we gain the indescribable power and virtue of Tao. This relation of trust and oneness is the principle of living wu-wei. When you are humble enough to leave things alone, you begin to feel a sense of unity intuitively. Lao-tzu’s words in the Tao Te Ching reveal this trust for the individual whose inner ear is attuned to the rhythmic silence of the Tao. The wisdom of Lao-tzu was not to intellectualize oneness, but instead to feel it and know it. Organized religions teach the individual about the unity of life only intellectually, because any dogma is in its essence separate and isolated. So the teachings of these religions reflect this isolation, as they assume that we are separate from God. Nevertheless, the core principle of all religions is to find God within yourself. This was the template of the philosophia perennis (perennial philosophy). The saints and sages of our past explained that in finding God within, you understand how oneness is the only reality. Thus the Latin religare (the root of the word religion) and the Sanskrit yuj (the root of the word yoga) are both words that describe the union with God that can only be found within. Yet this does not mean withdrawing from the external world, because this unity within us is what brings unity to the world. The spirit of one’s unique li brings harmony to the entire world as the tool, so to speak, of the indescribable Tao. Once our conditioning is out of the way of Tao, the peace residing deep within us knows nothing other than trust, because that is the acknowledgment of unity. It is the feeling of oneness that we really seek—a feeling of oneness within ourselves that is never disturbed by the fluctuations of life in the outside world. When we are disturbed, we lose sight of our innate love. We never truly love the world in this way, because we condemn it on the basis of our own conditioning. The only way to truly love the world is to trust it with a trust that cannot be moved by the deluded mind. Trust is the validation that the universe is one and that you do belong. We have built doctrine after doctrine in trying to explain the universe and our relationship to it. But these attempts are intellectual pursuits rather than a direct experience of unity. In our overemphasis on the intellect, we have lost sight of the beauty of life, which stands beyond reason. Religion attempts to intellectualize God, philosophy attempts to intellectualize the universe, psychology attempts to intellectualize the mind, and with all this we destroy the world in trying to give it meaning for our puny intellects. God, universe, and mind are all conceptual. Yet they are referring to the transcendent, that which is beyond time and space (although it includes time and space). The problem in our world is that we get stuck to the intellectual meaning. From this we build our idea of the world, which exists only in the realm of names and form. This state of perception discounts the inner world; as a result, our planet is in a constant war among peoples of supposedly different nations, religions, races, and genders. These catastrophic results stem from the fact that our explanations always come from a separatist point of view. How could we explain such things as God, the universe, or the mind from a conditioned perspective? We are constantly attempting to measure the immeasurable. It is impossible to explain categorically why trust opens the feeling of oneness within. Being the mere humans that we are, there are just some things that we can never explain, and this is precisely the point of self-realization. We can’t intellectually explain why trust is the way of unity, but we can confirm this in our own experience. If we were sincere in living wu-wei, we would understand the truth of unity through our trust in life taking its own course. It is impossible to explain the Tao, trust, and oneness in Taoist wisdom. It is very much like the Buddhist doctrine of the Four Invisibles. Alan Watts states in The Way of Zen: "The Buddhist doctrine of the 'Four Invisibles' is that the Void (sunya) is to a Buddha as water to a fish, air to a man, and the nature of things to the deluded—beyond conception. It should be obvious that what we are, most substantially and fundamentally, will never be a distinct object of knowledge. Whatever we can know—life and death, light and darkness, solid and empty—will be the relative aspects of something as inconceivable as the color of space. Awakening is not to know what this reality is." Intellectually knowing about trust and oneness misses the essence of the experience, because these two are both dissected as relative aspects of an absolute reality. The union with the Tao is only known as a living reality when the so-called relative aspects have dissolved into their original oneness. The sense of unity that we seek to discover can never be something that we could theorize or speculate upon. As I have mentioned, the very use of language itself is isolated to the field of duality, so all the investigations of religion, philosophy, and science are futile if they ignore consciousness in giving preference to intellectual study. The Eastern wisdom traditions, especially Taoism and Zen Buddhism, seek to eradicate any such intellectual debate or speculation, because they know that a trust in self and life leads to the unexplainable peace of oneness. A Chinese Zen master of the ninth century CE, Tung-shan Shou-ch’u, was once asked, “What is the Buddha?” and he spontaneously answered, “Three pounds of flax.” Many philosophical debates have been hatched about the meaning of this reply but fall short of the mark. From the Zen perspective, Tung-shan was bringing the questioner into the reality of the now moment. The irrational answer of “three pounds of flax” extinguishes any idea of intellectual theorizing and speculation, which is the sole purpose of any great Zen koan. A koan is a story, dialogue, statement, and ultimately a riddle, which is used in Zen practice to provoke great doubt in the student’s mind as a way of testing his progress. One of the oldest koans can be found in the Chuang-tzu text, and this is why some scholars believe Zen Buddhism is a tradition built in part on Chuang-tzu’s wisdom. In this passage he uses complete nonsense to puzzle our intellectual faculties so that we stand back in awe and are brought back to the ground of the irrational impartiality of life: "There is a beginning. There is a not yet beginning to be a beginning. There is a not yet beginning to be a not yet beginning to be a beginning. There is being. There is nonbeing. There is a not yet beginning to be nonbeing. There is a not yet beginning to be a not yet beginning to be nonbeing. Suddenly there is nonbeing." Wow! Trying to make sense of such a passage is impossible—and that’s precisely the point. Actually, Chuang-tzu is using humor in this passage, because even in his day people tried to use logic to understand the meaning of the universe and our existence, only to arrive at erroneous conclusions. Koans are famously employed by Zen masters to throw disciples back into the present moment, where process has no beginning or end because thinking has completely succumbed to the irrational. One such encounter with a koan is described in a story in which a disciple was summoned to the Zen master’s home. The master told the disciple that he wanted an exhibition of Zen tomorrow. Leaving the master’s quarters, the disciple was confused about how he could put together such an exhibition. That whole night he tossed and turned in bed, anxious about how to please the master. The next day, on the way to the master’s home, the disciple was still fretting about the problem when he saw a frog that is unique to Japan. “Aha!” he thought, and he took the frog to the master’s house. When he arrived, the master asked, “So can you exhibit Zen to me?” In reply, the disciple showed him the frog. The master gave a slight smirk and said, “No, too intellectual.” In other words, his exhibition was too contrived, too well thought out. The very thinking about it thwarted the project. To answer the master somewhat authentically in this regard requires no thinking, as Zen is the natural spontaneity of the universe in the eternal now. So to exhibit Zen is not to worry about it, because Zen is life. When we try to give a logical, intellectual explanation to such a reality as trust, we lose sight of its significance in our own experience. Many masters past and present, such as Tung-shan Shou-ch’u and Chuang-tzu, have had no time for philosophical debate about the reality of Tao. They would rather give you a direct experience of it so you can taste it for yourself. When we step outside of all the learning we cling to, we come back into that sense of unity. It is the individual’s choice whether or not to live wu-wei, as this depends on no external source. To retreat from external compulsion is a gesture in favor of trust, because no outside source of learning can take away your innate connection to the universe. The peace that resides in the unity of trust allows the individual to harmonize with the world. This not only brings the light of Tao into the world but also guides and helps the individual along their journey through life. When we trust, the universe answers us through the resonance of our experience. The feeling of oneness brings the individual back into accord with the function of the universe, like a child nourished by its mother’s bosom. When we trust completely, our physical, mental, and spiritual planes of consciousness harmonize with the heartbeat of the Earth. When we have cleared the passage for Tao to function through us with its natural velocity, the rhythms of our bodily functions and vibrations of our mental states move as an extension of the Earth. A perfect example of this complete trust and harmony with the planet is the Kon-Tiki expedition of Norwegian ethnographer and adventurer Thor Heyerdahl in 1947. In this amazing story Heyerdahl and his crew drifted on a balsa-wood raft from Peru out into the vastness of the Pacific Ocean. From a logical perspective, this attempt to just drift into the vastness of the Pacific would appear suicidal. But somehow, in true Taoist wisdom, Heyerdahl had a trust that his own organism and the ecosystem of the Pacific would harmonize together as one if they were given the time to do so. Without exercising the use of force, Heyerdahl’s trust that he and the ocean were a unified system allowed the power of te to manifest. As he and his crew drifted into the unknown, the balsa wood of the raft began to swell up and bind the logs together more securely, which gave their raft the durability to take on the tough conditions of the Pacific Ocean. The issue of food was another obstacle to overcome. Yet astonishingly, as a result of their complete trust, flying fish were on their deck every morning. Rejecting the fear of the unknown, Heyerdahl and his crew began to replicate the intelligence of dolphins, because they were in perfect harmony with the course of nature by following the path of least resistance. The trust in following the path of least resistance is the power of te, which is a reflection of how the power of lightning follows the path of least resistance and also of how the Tao works through an empty mind. A full mind is resistant. In the Kon-Tiki adventure, Heyerdahl’s trust was answered by what we would deem miraculous events. Yet from the wisdom of sages like Lao-tzu, these events would make perfect sense, because our organism is an intrinsic part of nature. Astonishingly, as Heyerdahl continued to follow the ocean’s natural rhythms, he and his crew drifted 8,000 kilometers (5,000 miles) from Peru all the way to the distant islands of the Tuamotus of French Polynesia in the South Pacific. Heyerdahl’s trust made him an aperture through which the universe could express its nature. His trust, though it may appear extreme, was the feeling of unity he had within by living wu-wei sincerely. In denying the use of force, Heyerdahl demonstrates how the power of te can change the world without any intention of doing so. When we oppose our own experience and try to control life, we develop an unnecessary anxiety within ourselves, because we fear the uncertainty of the future. We attempt to dictate to the future through our plans, and though these plans may be good in theory, they are in reality phantoms and distractions from the unity that can be found in trust. Thor Heyerdahl is an example of what each and every one of us can live by if we are radical enough to throw off our fears of the past and future and instead live completely in the here and now. Our intentions to change the world are the result of humanity separating itself from the here and now. But it is only when we can be completely present in the here and now that we will know what is best for the future. Trust and unity arise in the crystalline clarity of stillness. Our movement out of this state tends to make us suspicious of the world. As a result, we fall into the average state of mind, which is constantly rearranging the pieces of the puzzle to try and somehow make sense of the world according to its conditioning. All of our intentions to change the world are fundamentally flawed, because the very intention to change the world implies that we do not trust the world. The unnatural systems of government and politics are built on this lack of trust. Their primary intention is to change the world according to their agenda. Government and politics are erroneously thought of as instruments to bring unity to the world, but the very essence of both is designed on the premise of a world divided. Anarchy and revolution are also flawed, because they arise from the idea of opposing the status quo with yet another agenda of changing the world. This perception of the world, which we have all adopted, is a step in the wrong direction. We believe that we need to work toward unity, yet our intentions are plagued by ours and others’ conditioned isolation. How could we work toward a unity that is already innate in our nature? The unity we seek is already there, but it is only revealed when we trust the world. Changing the world in the hope of discovering unity is like a knife trying to cut itself. How can we search for something that is already there? Unity can only come from trust. Thor Heyerdahl had no intention to reach any particular destination; thus he reached where he was meant to go with no forethought or preplanning. His trust was his strength, and the guidance that led him on his journey was his union with the universe responding to his basic needs. In any attempt to change the world, we destroy the world, because the very intention to change something is built on the illusion of separation. Organized religion is a good example of this process, because many religions make people feel separate from God. In feeling separate from God, we are taught that we should pray. But the very act of prayer is, to a degree, a lack of trust in God. When we pray, no matter how morally elevated our prayers may be, we are trying to force God’s hand in order to satisfy our conditioning and pleasures (unless the prayer is in selfless gratitude to the All). We arrogantly try to deny the destiny that is mapped out for us through praying that nothing unpleasant happens to us. To force God to your will in prayer is to lack trust in God. We are trying to change the world’s circumstances according to our own beliefs and preferences. We will never experience the harmony with all life that Thor Heyerdahl felt if we continue to exhibit a lack of trust in any part of life. Trust and oneness are verified when we completely let go of ourselves and let the Way of the Tao guide our life. But this guidance can never come if you are anxious to change the world or force God’s hand. Our intentions for life and ourselves are the very motive that distorts the future. Attempting to force God’s hand with prayer is the same as trying to change the world, because both acts destroy the world. But the world destroyed in the act of praying is the world within yourself, as you incorrectly assume that you are alien to this universe. Trust and unity come to those who do not experience the world with the filters of conditioning in their minds. Peace on Earth can prevail if we can individually follow our own paths in life with no resistance to the unfoldment of the Tao, which will surely soften our hearts. It is when we force our lives to be a certain way that we are blind to where the Tao is guiding us. The language of the Tao can only be known when all operations of force have ceased within the psyche. The true power of te, virtue, comes into its own when control and force have ceased within our minds. The trust that abides within us, though it is often veiled by our conditioning, is what will allow the naturalness of the Tao to unfold on our planet. The heart of Eastern wisdom teaches you to be naturally in the world without rejecting it. Many spiritual paths condemn and judge the world, as if they were enabling one to move beyond desires. But many fail to realize that they are desiring not to desire (a point that the Buddha understood). Lao-tzu saw all these pursuits of desiring not to desire as nothing more than spiritual pride and a moving away from our human nature. The Taoist perspective is to leave no stone unturned in an embrace of life and yourself, as exemplified by Chuang-tzu. He dived headfirst into life, bringing his internal harmony into the world and time in which he lived. In the introduction to The Complete Works of Chuang Tzu Burton Watson states: "In Chuang Tzu’s view, the man who has freed himself from conventional standards of judgment can no longer be made to suffer, for he refuses to recognize poverty as any less desirable then affluence, to recognize death as any less desirable than life. He does not in any literal sense withdraw and hide from the world—to do so would show that he still passed judgment upon the world. He remains within society but refrains from acting out of the motives that lead ordinary men to struggle for wealth, fame, success, or safety. He maintains a state that Chuang Tzu refers to as wu-wei, or inaction, meaning by this term not a forced quietude, but a course of action that is not founded upon any purposeful motives of gain or striving. In such a state, all human actions become as spontaneous and mindless as those of the natural world. Man becomes one with Nature, or Heaven, as Chuang Tzu calls it, and merges himself with Tao, or the Way, the underlying unity that embraces man, Nature, and all that is in the universe. To describe this mindless, purposeless mode of life, Chuang Tzu turns most often to the analogy of the artist or craftsman. The skilled woodcarver, the skilled butcher, the skilled swimmer does not ponder or ratiocinate on the course of action he should take; his skill has become so much a part of him that he merely acts instinctively and spontaneously and, without knowing why, achieves success. Again, Chuang Tzu employs the metaphor of a totally free and purposeless journey, using the word yu (“to wander” or “a wandering”) to designate the way in which the enlightened man wanders through all of creation, enjoying its delights without ever becoming attached to any one part of it." Chuang-tzu never once condemned the world. Instead he used his insightfully witty humor to shine a light on wu-wei, which the world has unceremoniously put away in the closet. The Way of Lao-tzu has nothing to do with transcending desires, as this would be spiritual pride. But he is also not saying one should become lazy or sloppy and succumb to desires. What Lao-tzu is saying is that when we inquire not only into our own nature but also into the nature of the world, we will come into contact with the nature of the human heart, which is the nature of the universe, and that is love. This love that is hidden within the heart of Lao-tzu’s Taoism is not a love that one discovers and keeps for oneself. It is a love that is shared because, in the Taoist philosophy of li, this love, which transcends any boundary, will bring harmony to the world piece by piece, or perhaps I should say “peace by peace.” The Way of Tao that an individual experiences brings this love into the world, and it inspires others, no matter how rigid their beliefs. This love, which all spiritual paths contend is the fruit of an enlightened soul, is not attainable if we do not accept ourselves and the world and gain a total comprehension of our inner and outer worlds. The complete scope of Lao-tzu’s Taoism is hard to fathom, as each individual is unique. But we do know that it is one of the only spiritual paths that has no set doctrine, dogma, or formulas, and this gives it the lucidity to reach every aspect of our consciousness. Laotzu’s Taoism acknowledges the shadow, especially in the sense that one discovers one’s intrinsic relationship to others and the world with no preconceived idea of how they should be, which allows for a great deal of transformation to occur and take us through our repressed pain. One of the primary purposes of the I Ching is to understand the total picture of our psychology, which is why Jung was so attracted by it. When we have worked sincerely within ourselves and made conscious and accepted everything about ourselves, then we have truly become human and are able to sympathize with the pain of others through our humble hearts. Anything other than a true humble heart, in the eyes of Lao-tzu, would be catastrophic to the world. No relationship to another or to the world can be developed if we still own a personal agenda and have not embraced our pain. Living wu-wei is the medicine for our ills in this world. Trusting and accepting ourselves and others is the remedy for building healthy, harmonious relationships, not only with one another, but also with the natural environment. An agendaless individual, working through the spiritual barriers within her own being, brings the wisdom of Tao into the world. In knowing ourselves, we can relate to other people and feel our integral connection not only to nature but also to the entire universe. Any relationship we have with an individual, nature, or the cosmos can only be genuine and harmonious if we trust their intrinsic nature. Those who live wu-wei understand this best, because allowing life to be as it will brings equilibrium to the world, as one reflects the untouched purity, stillness, and aliveness of nature. Only when you understand that your real nature is wu-wei will you be able to have a relationship not only with yourself but with the entire universe in all of its glory. Our greatest relationship becomes a reality when we live wu-wei. This greatest of the great relationships is with the Tao, the Way of nature, which is our nature, Atman, which is Brahman. When we live wu-wei, we become aware of, and experience, ourselves in relation to the Way. No form of scientific study or speculation can ever calculate this reality, yet we know it is real, because we live it and feel it. Living it is being in harmony with that greatest of all relationships. This Way of nature is experienced by living wu-wei, as wu-wei is the essence of the universe. In the world that we live in now, with ecological destruction for the sake of material possessions and with the divisions among humanity, a return to our wu-wei nature is imperative, or we will face the dire consequences of our ignorant actions. The way we commonly act toward each other and the planet is staggering evidence that we at this moment in time function as nothing more than machines that are hell-bent on destroying anything that conflicts with our greed and yearning for power. This state of deep sleep keeps us in our own private worlds, because we believe that we are constantly in a mode of survival against everything else. This belief unknowingly binds us to the animal kingdom, but if we can let go of this fear, we can finally become human. The systems we have built perpetuate this isolation. Many religions, for example, eliminate God from the world because a God that is known to be universal, both within and without, conflicts with a lot of religious doctrines, which are built on a kind of political view of the universe, in which God is a king or lord, making people easy to control. This is truly a hypnotic view of reality, because everything in this world, including human beings, is part of nature, so how could God be excluded from anything? We have not even mentioned our relationship to planetary and universal forces that affect our minds, which is the essence of astrology. How could cosmic forces play a part in the consciousness of this planet unless these forces are part of God? The limitations of religion, science, and philosophy are destroying our minds, because anything built with boundaries, although it may work within those boundaries, in actual fact has nothing to do with the essence of an eternal God. Bringing back into the awareness that God is both within us and in nature was at the heart of Lao-tzu’s Taoism. Working with nature instead of going against it aligns us with the Tao, which allows this higher state of consciousness to produce conditions whereby others will also realize the Tao through their own nature. The English mystical philosopher and writer Aldous Huxley expresses this in his book The Perennial Philosophy, where he beautifully explains our ignorance of God in the world through a story from the Chuang-tzu text: "The doctrine that God is in the world has an important practical corollary—the sacredness of Nature, and the sinfulness and folly of man’s overweening efforts to be her master rather than her intelligently docile collaborator. Sub-human lives and even things are to be treated with respect and understanding, not brutally oppressed to serve our human ends. 'The ruler of the Southern Ocean was Shu, the ruler of the Northern Ocean was Hu, and the ruler of the Centre was Chaos. Shu and Hu were continually meeting in the land of Chaos, who treated them very well. They consulted together how they might repay his kindness, and said: “Men all have seven orifices for the purpose of seeing, hearing, eating and breathing, while this ruler alone has not a single one. Let us try to make them for him.” Accordingly they dug one orifice in him every day. At the end of seven days Chaos died.'—Chuang Tzu In this delicately comic parable Chaos is Nature in the state of wu-wei—non-assertion or equilibrium. Shu and Hu are the living images of those busy persons who thought they would improve on Nature by turning dry prairies into wheat fields, and produced deserts; who proudly proclaimed the Conquest of the Air, and then discovered that they had defeated civilization; who chopped down vast forests to provide the newsprint demanded by that universal literacy which was to make the world safe for intelligence and democracy, and got wholesale erosion, pulp magazines and the organs of Fascist, Communist, capitalist and nationalist propaganda. In brief, Shu and Hu are devotees of the apocalyptic religion of Inevitable Progress, and their creed is that the Kingdom of Heaven is outside you, and in the future. Chuang Tzu, on the other hand, like all good Taoists, has no desire to bully Nature into subserving ill-considered temporal ends, at variance with the final end of men as formulated in the Perennial Philosophy. His wish is to work with Nature, so as to produce material and social conditions in which individuals may realize Tao on every level from the psychological up to the spiritual. Compared with that of the Taoists and Far Eastern Buddhists, the Christian attitude towards Nature has been curiously insensitive and often downright domineering and violent. Taking their cue from an unfortunate remark in Genesis, Catholic moralists have regarded animals as mere things which men do right to exploit for their own ends. Like landscape painting, the humanitarian movement in Europe was an almost completely secular affair. In the Far East both were essentially religious." If we can move beyond dogmas and work with nature, then the right social conditions for everybody to realize Tao will appear. Ironically, the social morality for which Confucius yearned can only be achieved in not trying to achieve it. Social morality depends on trust and the sincere spiritual work the individual undergoes within. No dogma can set the individual, or humanity, free, because all are built on methods to induce Tao, which are methods of force. Thus if we can be radical enough to live wu-wei, the right social and cultural conditions will emerge that will enable people to realize the Tao, and this will change our world through not striving for change. The act of trying to force change hinders change. Following your own nature is the subtle act of change. It is also the way that love transcends the personal and moves into the universal. Our love has to exceed our boundaries to include not only our neighbors but also our enemies and the community of animals, plants, and minerals. Working with nature instead of against it is a reflection of wu-wei. Living wu-wei is thought of as one of the most difficult and, at the same time, sublime forms of spirituality that exists. Yet no matter how hard it appears to let go and trust, nothing will reveal your nature, li, more than the Tao of wu-wei. Discovering our li in turn has the power of te to inspire the world, as this is what truly brings harmony to life, Heaven to Earth. Spiritual isolation is necessary to get to the deepest part of your being. But when your nature is revealed in this introspection, you naturally want to harmonize with the world, which corresponds to the Taoist principle of ying, mutual resonance. Li moves us out of isolation and into universal harmony, in the same way that the mystical guru of the East leaves the isolation of the cave to go back into the world. But this time the guru is you and the love you share is the love you are. The world as we know it can be anything it chooses to be, but if you do not trust the world, then the world will remain as it is. Such is the paradox of unity and our nature, wu-wei.
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Channel: Jason Gregory
Views: 1,345,297
Rating: 4.8660197 out of 5
Keywords: Jason Gregory, Laozi, Zhuangzi, Tao, meditation, tao te ching, taoist wisdom for a peaceful world, taoist philosophy, taoism the philosophy of flow, wuwei, taoism explained, taoism alan watts, taoism audiobook, taoism documentary, alan watts, wu wei, lao tzu, the art of effortless living, taoism the art of not trying, effortless living, taoism, tao te ching explained, tao te ching audiobook, chuang tzu audiobook, daoism explained, flow state joe rogan, taoism flow like water, flow
Id: IuDY8m72tgk
Channel Id: undefined
Length: 88min 15sec (5295 seconds)
Published: Mon Nov 11 2019
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