Geof Nanto

I bought this album: "The Pure Sound of Mountain and Water". Here's a track from it..... Yes, that's what I like about it. And what I like about Riley Lee's playing of the shakuhachi.

I too would like to find some Daoist inspired music. The closest I've found to the sound I'd like is Riley Lee playing the shakuhachi flute:

@Lost in Translation Good answer and a good way to get an answer. Thanks.

A good discussion but no one other than Zerostao has attempted to answer the question of my OP, namely, “What is the spirit of Dao Bums?” I’ll stick with my previous observation that there’s a strong element of the spirit Mercurius in evidence here. I like the image: The word ‘carbuncle’ derives from the Latin carbunculus, meaning glowing-coal. A derived meaning is a mythical gemstone said to emit light even in total darkness. It’s common derived meaning is a painful localized bacterial infection of the skin and subcutaneous tissue that usually has several openings through which pus is discharged. For me, the spirit of Dao Bums has all three of these aspects, fortunately with the higher aspects strongly present. (I very rarely visit the Trump discussions but when I have I was reminded of the third aspect....such is the sometimes messy way the body attempts to heal itself. For me, Trump comes across a person totally possessed by the spirit Mercurius, unfortunately in its lower rather than higher aspects, but nevertheless he represents a vital attempt by the forces of Dao to heal a very sick body politic.)

Slightly tangential to the present discussion, here is a view of emptiness from Carl Jung that I find insightful....... The goal [of individuation] seems to be anticipated by archetypal symbols which represent something like the circumambulation of a centre. With increasing approximation to the centre there is a corresponding depotentiation of the ego in favour of the influence of the "empty" centre which is certainly not identical with the archetype but is the thing the archetype points to. As the Chinese would say, the archetype is only the name of Tao, not Tao itself. Just as the Jesuits translated Tao as "God," so we can describe the "emptiness" of the centre as "god." Emptiness in this sense doesn't mean "absence" or "vacancy," but something unknowable which is endowed with the highest intensity.... I call this unknowable the Self.... The whole course of individuation is dialectical, and the so-called "end" is the confrontation of the ego with the "emptiness" of the centre. (I’d add as an aside....a salient aspect of these discussions seems to me to be the confrontation of our individual egos with the diverse Mind of Dao Bums, for better or for worse.)

I’ve just now read all the above posts and there’s elements in all of them that I both agree and disagree with. And that’s the thing; the older I get the more I’m aware how I’m fuelled by contradictory forces. These opposites are what give me vitality, indeed it’s contradictory forces that give this forum its vitality. My OP was not a plea to shut down political discussion, but rather against the one-sided externalisation of these polar forces. I have been very politically active with strong partisan views when I was younger and that was important and appropriate then. But now I’m more interested in the forces themselves that shape my psyche; my focus has moved from externalisation to internalisation. The energy that propels these emotional discussions, whether political or religious, is powerful. Allowing its expression in a semi-controlled manner is what gives Dao Bums its vitality. But it's a dangerous energy; used wisely it can help us transform ourselves, whereas succumbing to it without understanding destroys us. The alchemists of old called it the spirit Mercurius. Here’s how the Aurelia Occulta decribes it......... "I am the poison-dripping dragon, who is everywhere and can be cheaply had. That upon which I rest, and that which rests upon me, will be found within me by those who pursue their investigations in accordance with the rules of the Art. My water and fire destroy and put together; from my body you may extract the green lion and the red. But if you do not have exact knowledge of me, you will destroy your five senses with my fire. From my snout there comes a spreading poison that has brought death to many. "Therefore you should skilfully separate the coarse from the fine, if you do not wish to suffer utter poverty. I bestow on you the powers of the male and the female, and also those of heaven and of earth. The mysteries of my art must be handled with courage and greatness of mind if you would conquer me by the power of fire, for already very many have come to grief, their riches and labour lost. I am the egg of nature, known only to the wise, who in piety and modesty bring forth from me the microcosm, which was prepared for mankind by Almighty God, but given only to the few, while the many long for it in vain, that they may do good to the poor with my treasure and not fasten their souls to the perishable [material] gold. "By the philosophers I am named mercurius; my spouse is the [philosophic] gold; I am the old dragon, found everywhere on the globe of the earth, father and mother, young and old, very strong and very weak, death and resurrection, visible and invisible, hard and soft; I descend into the earth and ascend to the heavens, I am the highest and the lowest, the lightest and the heaviest; often the order of nature is reversed in me, as regards colour, number, weight, and measure; I contain the light of nature; I am dark and light; I come forth from heaven and earth; I am known and yet do not exist at all; by virtue of the sun's rays all colours shine in me, and all metals. I am the carbuncle of the sun, the most noble purified earth, through which you may change copper, iron, tin, and lead into gold." (Note: carbuncle means glowing-coal.)

To use a finger as a metaphor for the nonfingerness of a finger is not as good as using nonfingerness as a metaphor for the nonfingerness of a finger. To use a horse as a metaphor for the nonhorseness of a horse is not as good as using nonhorseness as a metaphor for the nonhorseness of a horse. Heaven and earth are the same as a finger; the myriad things are the same as a horse. Affirmation lies in our affirming; denial lies in our denying. A way comes into being through our walking upon it; a thing is so because people say that it is. Why are things so? They are so because we declare them to be so. Why are things not so? They are not so because we declare them to be not so. All things are possessed of that which we may say is so; all things are possessed of that which we may affirm. There is no thing that is not so; there is no thing that is not affirmable. Thus, whether it be a tiny blade of grass or a mighty pillar, a hideous leper or beauteous Hsi Shih, no matter how peculiar or fantastic, through the Way they all become one. To split something up is to create something else; to create something is to destroy something else. But for things in general, there is neither creation nor destruction, for they all revert to join in Unity. Only the perceptive understand that all things join in Unity. For this reason they do not use things themselves but lodge in commonality….....It is all a result of their understanding the mutual dependence of "this" and "that." To have achieved this understanding but not be conscious of why it is so is called "The Way." To weary the spiritual intelligence by trying to unify things without knowing that they are already identical is called " three in the morning." Why is this called "three in the morning"? Once upon a time, there was a monkey keeper who was feeding little chestnuts to his charges. "I'll give you three in the morning and four in the evening," he told them. All the monkeys were angry. 'All right, then," said the keeper, "I'll give you four in the morning and three in the evening. " All the monkeys were happy with this arrangement. Without adversely affecting either the name or the reality of the amount that he fed them, the keeper acted in accordance with the feelings of the monkeys. He too recognized the mutual dependence of "this" and " that." Consequently, the sage harmonizes the right and wrong of things and rests at the center of the celestial potter's wheel. This is called "dual procession. " Notes: nonhorseness of a horse: These two paradoxes both derive from and are a critique of Master Kungsun Lung, who belonged to the School of Logicians. As originally formulated by the latter, they read as follows: "There is nothing that is not an index [of something else], but an index is not an index [of something else]" and "A white horse is not a horse." The word for "index" in the first paradox quite literally means "finger," as does the Latin root of the English word. As a verb, the same Chinese word means "to indicate" or "to point out." Thus the philosophical sense of "fingerness" in this passage is "indexicality . " Hsi Shih: A fabled beauty of old. commonality: The following two sentences appear somewhat garbled because they almost certainly are an old commentary that has crept into the text.

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@OldDog As I’ve mentioned, I’d like to bow out of this discussion. Yet I feel obliged to acknowledge your reply because of your obvious sincerity as well as my desire to defend my perspective. Getting back to the OP, I feel respect those early sinologists such as Legge, Giles, and Wilhelm because they were the pioneers. Their work blazed pathways into classical Chinese thought. Those who come later are obviously at a great advantage because of the foundations these pioneers have built. We are fortunate in that we have over a century of interpretative work at our finger tips. Or you could say as you’ve implied that we are burdened by an excess of analysis. I like it that you acknowledge your visceral reaction. For me personally, my innate nature favours cognition through what I feel rather than what I think. Hence, my focus here is on exploring and refining the complex web of feelings that underlie these discussions. To my reading of that article Moeller did not think Giles was deliberately misinterpreting Zhuangzi, rather he was highlighting how Giles was unconsciously following his Western conditioning. The opposite for me. I found it exciting and deeply meaningful when I first read it. What's appears extreme for one person may well be the authentic path for another. Bodhidharma, seven years facing a wall... I agree about the value of such literary devices as metaphor, paradox and allegory. I’d add that they hint at the ineffable. However, I also value the clarity of Western analysis. Both these modes are important for me.....the interplay of light and dark; of yang and yin.

@wandelaar As far as I’m concerned, if you don’t like the article it’s your business. I feel no obligation to work at convincing you of its merits, especially as you haven’t even bothered to read it properly. I found all the Daoist books by the author of that article (Hans-Georg Moeller) very helpful when I first read them many years ago because he was outlining a worldview that resonated with my own tentative insights that I’d developed from my personal cultivation. But, having gained and considerably broadened that intellectual foundation, I’ve since moved on in my practice so that it no longer feels meaningful for me to engage in discussions about those books. As I’ve said, I only posted it thinking it may be of interest to you and Old Dog. I now fully concede that I was wrong with that assumption.

@OldDog I added that article because I thought it would interest you, given that you quoted Lin Yutang's concern about how poorly early Daoist works have been translated and interpreted. Hence your adverse response surprises me, as does Wandelaars. I personally found that article insightful and particularly helpful in distinguishing significant differences between ancient Chinese thought from the dominant worldview we find echoed in most all interpretations of Daoist thought. It is intelligently presented by a scholar well researched in both classical Daoism and Western philosophy.

As an example, here's a comprehensive analysis from a contemporary Western philosopher of cultural bias in Giles’s translation of The Dream of the Butterfly.

The zhenren Philemon speaks: "Now hear: I begin with nothingness. Nothingness is the same as the fullness. In infinity full is as good as empty. Nothingness is empty and full. You might just as well say anything else about nothingness, for instance, that it is white, or black, or that it does not exist, or that it exists. That which is endless and eternal has no qualities, since it has all qualities. "We call this nothingness or fullness the Dao. Therein both thinking and being cease, since the eternal and endless possess no qualities. No one is in it, for they would then be distinct from the Dao, and would possess qualities that would distinguish him as something distinct from the Dao. "In the Dao there is nothing and everything. It is fruitless to think about the Dao, for this would mean self-dissolution. "Creation is not in the Dao, but in itself. The Dao is the beginning and end of creation. It pervades creation, just as the sunlight pervades the air. Although the Dao is altogether pervasive, creation has no share in it, just as a wholly transparent body becomes neither light nor dark through the light pervading it. "We are, however, the Dao itself, for we are a part of the eternal and the endless. But we have no share therein, as we are infinitely removed from the Dao; not spatially or temporally, but essentially, since we are distinguished from the Dao in our essence as creation, which is confined within time and space. "Yet because we are parts of the Dao, the Dao is also in us. Even in the smallest point the Dao is endless, eternal, and whole, since small and great are qualities that are contained in it. It is nothingness that is whole and continuous throughout. Only figuratively, therefore, do I speak of creation as part of the Dao. Because, actually, the Dao is nowhere divided, since it is nothingness. We are also the whole Dao, because, figuratively, the Dao is the smallest point in us, merely assumed, not existing, and the boundless firmament about us. But why then do we speak of the Dao at all, if it is everything and nothing? "I speak about it in order to begin somewhere, and also to free you from the delusion that somewhere without or within there is something fixed or in some way established from the outset. Every so-called fixed and certain thing is only relative. That alone is fixed and certain that is subject to change. "Creation, however, is subject to change; therefore it alone is fixed and determined because it has qualities: indeed, it is quality itself. "Thus we ask: how did the creation come into being? Creatures came into being, but not creation: since creation is the very quality of the Dao, as much as non-creation, eternal death. Creation is ever-present, and so is death. The Dao has everything, differentiation and non-differentiation. "Differentiation is creation. It is differentiated. Differentiation is its essence, and therefore it differentiates. Therefore man differentiates, since his essence is differentiation. Therefore he also differentiates the qualities of the Dao that do not exist. He differentiates them on account of his own essence. Therefore he must speak of those qualities of the Dao that do not exist. "You say: 'what use is there in speaking about it at all?' Did you yourself not say that it is not worth thinking about the Dao? "I mentioned that to free you from the delusion that we are able to think about the Dao. When we distinguish the qualities of the Dao, we are speaking from the ground of our own differentiated state and about our own differentiation, but have effectively said nothing about the Dao. Yet we need to speak about our own differentiation, so that we may sufficiently differentiate ourselves. Our very nature is differentiation. If we are not true to this nature we do not differentiate ourselves enough. We must therefore make distinctions between qualities. "You ask: what harm is there in not differentiating oneself?' If we do not differentiate, we move beyond our essence, beyond creation, and we fall into non-differentiation, which is the other quality of the Dao. We fall into the Dao itself and cease to be created beings. We lapse into dissolution in nothingness. This is the death of the creature. Therefore we die to the same extent that we do not differentiate. Hence the creature's essence strives toward differentiation and struggles against primeval, perilous sameness. This is called the principium individuations. This principle is the essence of the creature. From this you can see why non-differentiation and non-distinction pose a great danger to the creature. "We must, therefore, distinguish the qualities of the Dao. These qualities are pairs of opposites, such as: "the effective and the ineffective, the fullness and the emptiness, the living and the dead, the different and the same, light and darkness, hot and cold, force and matter, time and space, good and evil, the beautiful and the ugly, the one and the many, etc. "The pairs of opposites are the qualities of the Dao that do not exist, because they cancel themselves out. As we are the Dao itself, we also have all these qualities in us. Since our nature is grounded in differentiation, we have these qualities in the name and under the sign of differentiation, which means: "First: these qualities are differentiated and separate in us; therefore they do not cancel each other out, but are effective. Thus we are the victims of the pairs of opposites. The Dao is rent within us. "Second: these qualities belong to the Dao, and we must possess and live them only in the name and under the sign of differentiation. We must differentiate ourselves from these qualities. They cancel each other out in the Dao, but not in us. Distinction from them saves us. "When we strive for the good or the beautiful, we forget our essence, which is differentiation, and we fall subject to the spell of the qualities of the Dao, which are the pairs of opposites. We endeavor to attain the good and the beautiful, yet at the same time we also seize the evil and the ugly since in the Dao these are one with the good and the beautiful. But if we remain true to our essence, which is differentiation, we differentiate ourselves from the good and the beautiful, and hence from the evil and ugly. And thus we do not fall under the spell of the Dao, namely into nothingness and dissolution. "You object: you said that difference and sameness are also qualities of the Dao. What is it like if we strive for distinctiveness? Are we, in so doing, not true to our own nature? And must we nonetheless fall into sameness when we strive for distinctiveness? "You must not forget that the Dao has no qualities. We create these through thinking. If, therefore, you strive for distinctiveness or sameness, or any qualities whatsoever, you pursue thoughts that flow to you out of the Dao: thoughts, namely concerning the non-existing qualities of the Dao. Inasmuch as you run after these thoughts, you fall again into the Dao, and attain distinctiveness and sameness at the same time. Not your thinking, but your essence, is differentiation. Therefore you must not strive for what you conceive as distinctiveness, but for your own essence. At bottom, therefore, there is only one striving, namely the striving for one's own essence. If you had this striving, you would not need to know anything about the Dao and its qualities, and yet you would attain the right goal by virtue of your own essence. Since, however, thought alienates us from our essence, I must teach you that knowledge with which you can bridle your thoughts."

Agreed. What about applying it to the polarity of contemporary political debate? I very occasionally browse the Trump threads here and see much demonisation of the opposition, each side passionately trying to make America 'good and beautiful'. But the Dao dictates the impossibility of this: "We endeavor to attain the good and the beautiful, yet at the same time we also seize the evil and the ugly since in the Dao these are one with the good and the beautiful." In Jungian terms, the debate is hopelessly contaminated by people not realising that they're projecting their own shadows onto other people. Jung was likewise critical of the way the Christian church posits a one-sided God that represents only the good and tries to abolish evil. Yet good and evil form an inseparable pair of opposites and it's impossible to banish one half of a pair of opposites. (I'm not after answers here, and certainly not claiming such debate isn't vital, but a greater awareness of some of the forces that shape our psyche can make it more healthy. )

Agreed, to the extent I explain in the remainder of that comment about the importance of self-awareness. I like this idea but viewing the full picture is a huge stumbling block. Everyone thinks they're seeing the big picture. For me, accepting my view must always be partial and limited is a good start to seeing a bigger picture. And (hopefully) that automatically limits my attachment to my own thinking.

It never occurred to me that you did get that from Jung. I know from previous posts that you don’t read Jung. I note in both my last comment and yours we make distinctions. That to me is of particular interest for what the OP says about differentiation..... "The pairs of opposites are the qualities of the Dao that do not exist, because they cancel themselves out. As we are the Dao itself, we also have all these qualities in us. Since our nature is grounded in differentiation, we have these qualities in the name and under the sign of differentiation, which means: "First: these qualities are differentiated and separate in us; therefore they do not cancel each other out, but are effective. Thus we are the victims of the pairs of opposites. The Dao is rent within us." Hence we are compelled to make these distinctions. But how to become free of this is the question that most interests me. And there’s no easy answer to that. So many different approaches: yoga, as Bindi mentions above, and alchemy is centred on the problem of opposites. Both of these are important for me. The Daodejing suggests reverting to a preconscious state. Zhuangzi repeatedly highlights the folly of endless differentiation, yet he himself makes many. However, Zhuangzi does it with humour. He is self-conscious of his actions. And that is a vital distinction on the way to freeing ourselves from being unconscious victims of Dao; of being submersed in the eternal interplay of yin and yang forces. I consciously engage in making distinctions knowing that is in harmony with an essential aspect of my innate nature as a conscious being. According to the OP: "Second: these qualities belong to the Dao, and we must possess and live them only in the name and under the sign of differentiation. We must differentiate ourselves from these qualities. They cancel each other out in the Dao, but not in us. Distinction from them saves us."

I should make clear that for me the above account is of particular interest because it’s in no way written as commentary on Daoism. It derives from direct knowing, and for Jung as a Christian, it expands on a strand of Christianity that’s been suppressed by the church from its earliest days. It has nothing directly to do with Daoist thought – the parallel is a connection I’ve emphasised by transcribing his ‘Pleroma’ as ‘Dao’. The Pleroma, or fullness, is a term from Gnosticism. In 1929, Jung said: "The Gnostics . . . expressed it as Pleroma, a state of fullness where the pairs of opposites, yea and nay, day and night, are together, then when they 'become,' it is either day or night. In the state of 'promise' before they become, they are non-existent, there is neither white nor black, good nor bad". Yeah, I've noticed you like that idea....and you're not alone: In his later writings, Jung used the term to designate a state of pre-existence and potentiality, identifying it with the Tibetan Bardo: "He must . . . accustom himself to the idea that 'time' is a relative concept and needs to be compensated by the concept of a 'simultaneous' Bardo — or pleromatic existence of all historical processes. What exists in the Pleroma as an eternal 'process' appears in time as aperiodic sequence, that is to say, it is repeated many times in an irregular pattern"

I've added some thoughts in response to this discussion here as a new topic.

For me, the above post gives good insight from a non-Chinese perspective into reality as described by classical Daoism. It’s from the first of Philemon’s Seven Sermons to the Dead from Jung’s The Red Book. The only change I’ve made is to replace the unfamiliar word ‘Pleroma’ in the original with ‘Dao’ because in this context it’s an equivalent term that’s more familiar to us. (Jung later described his guide Philemon as follows: “He was simply a superior knowledge, and he taught me psychological objectivity and the actuality of the soul. He formulated and expressed everything which I had never thought.”) Comments welcome, but so too is silent contemplation. If it feels appropriate, I’ll add further content from the other sermons.

It’s only smooth-talking New Age pretend guru cats that can’t be trusted. Or so I’m told by a parakeet called Sid who lives near the local duck pond…… One day a cat arrived at the pond, bringing with it a murky, hematic odor of cynicism and unease. `Hey there, you guys,' the cat said, maintaining a polite distance. The cat was gray, and sat itself smugly on a large gray rock. 'Boy, are you ever an attractive-looking bunch of ducks! Seriously, I'm really impressed. I never even suspected ducks came as good looking as you guys, or halfway near as intelligent, either. I guess that just goes to show me, doesn't it? I guess that just goes to show that I don't know that much about ducks after all.' At first, the ducks glided off warily into the cold trembling pond, pretending not to be bothered, but never taking their eyes off the cat for one moment, either. `I'll tell you something, guys,' the cat continued, in a voice as gentle and intrepid as desire. 'I just came from the city and you don't have any idea how lucky you've got it out here. What a nightmare. What a cesspool of smog and urine and crime and poverty they've constructed for themselves in the city, boy. Dog eat dog, cat eat cat, cars running everybody over without so much as a hi or a how-de-do. Bang crash roar crash bang – I've had enough city life to last me a few thousand centuries or so. Which brings me, of course, to why I've decided to move out here to the woods with you guys. Fresh air, sunshine, plenty of exercise. And of course a strictly monitored vegetarian diet from now on. I'm taking charge of my life, boy, and taking it on the road. Call me an outlaw, if you wish; call me a rebel. But I'm tired of living the life society tells me to live. I'm finally going to live my life for myself, thank you very much. Come hell or high water.' While his smooth voice wetly purred, the cat licked his stubby, retractile paws and groomed his long twitchy whiskers, as if dressing himself for church. Then, giving the ducks a last fond look over his shoulder, he rested his head on the large gray rock and fell indefensi­bly asleep. `Frankly, I don't think you ducks are exactly the brightest flock of fowl I've ever come across in my rude travels,' Sid said, perched high atop a buoyant willow. 'We're talking a fat gray cat now, and that means cat with a capital C, A, T, and I can't believe I'm having to actually spell it out to you guys. Cats are what you call notoriously fond of fowl, fowl being you ducks and meboth. We're like this cat's dream of a main meal, and I don't care what he says about wildlife solidarity, or karma, or pantheism, or even free will. That cat wants to eat us alive. He wants to chew our flesh and rip our blood vessels into stringy pasta. But he wants to play with us first. He wants to tease us and cut us and watch us die slow. That's because he's a cat, and we're what you call fowl. Am I going too fast for you guys or what?' (From THE PARAKEET AND THE CAT by Scott Bradfield)

Yeah, you definitely display an element of trickster spirit. From Wikipedia..... In mythology, and in the study of folklore and religion, a trickster is a character who exhibits a great degree of intellect or secret knowledge, and uses it to play tricks or otherwise disobey normal rules and conventional behaviour. Tricksters violate principles of social and natural order, playfully disrupting normal life and then re-establishing it on a new basis. Tricksters can be cunning or foolish or both. The trickster openly questions and mocks authority. They are usually male characters, and are fond of breaking rules, boasting, and playing tricks on both humans and gods.

Huge topic, good discussion. Some words from Carl Jung on an aspect of this complex subject pertinent to those of us who value inner cultivation........ Speaking of the fatal human tendency to see the devil elsewhere than in one’s own territory, Jung said in an interview with the B.B.C in the immediate aftermath of World War II: If, for instance, the French-speaking Swiss should assume that the Alemanic Swiss were all devils, we in Switzerland could have the nicest civil war in no time, and we could also discover the most convincing economic reasons why such a war was inevitable. Well—we just don’t, for we learned our lesson more than four hundred years ago. We came to the conclusion that it is better to avoid external wars, so we went home and took the strife with us. In Switzerland we have built up a so-called “perfect democracy” in which our warlike instincts spend themselves in the form of domestic quarrels called “political life.” We fight each other within the limits of law and constitution, and we are inclined to think of democracy as a chronic state of mitigated civil war. We are far from being at peace with ourselves: on the contrary, we hate and fight each other, because we have succeeded in introverting war. Our peaceful outward manners merely serve to protect our internal dispute from foreign intruders who might disturb us. Thus far we have succeeded, but we are yet far from the ultimate goal. We still have enemies in the flesh, and we have not yet managed to introvert our political disharmonies into our personal selves. We still labour under the unwholesome conviction that we should be at peace within ourselves. Yet even our national mitigated state of war would come to an end if everybody could see his own shadow and begin the only struggle which is really worthwhile, the fight against the overwhelming power-drive of our own shadow. We have a tolerable social order in Switzerland because we fight among ourselves. Our order would be perfect if people could only take their lust of combat home into themselves. Unfortunately even our religious education prevents us from doing this, with its false promises of an immediate peace within. Peace may come in the end, but only when victory and defeat have lost their meaning. What did our Lord mean when He said: “I came not to send peace, but a sword”?

As to whether the word ‘Dao’ is best thought of as a noun or verb, Ames & Hall in their commentary on the Daodejing make some insightful general points in their interpretation of its classical Chinese language. They argue for a processual understanding of classical Daoist cosmology. If this account is persuasive, it means that the vocabulary that expresses the worldview and the common sense in which the Daodejing is to be located is first and foremost gerundive. Because "things" in the Daodejing are in fact active "processes" and ongoing "events," nouns that would "objectify" this world are derived from and revert to a verbal sensibility. The ontological language of substance and essence that is sedimented into the English language tends to defy this linguistic priority, insisting upon the primacy of "the world" rather than the process of the world "worlding" and the myriad things "happening." It is a fair observation that a careful reading of the introduction and this glossary are made necessary by the fact that our European languages can only most imperfectly "speak" the world being referenced in the Daodejing. 道 dao. Etymologically, the character dao 道 is constructed out of two elements: shu "foot," and hence, "to pass over," "to go over," "to lead through" (on foot), and shou首meaning "head"—hair and eye together—and therefore "foremost." The shou "head" component carries the suggestion of "to lead" in the sense of "to give a heading." Dao 道 is used frequently as a loan character for its verbal cognate dao 導, "to lead forth." Thus the character is primarily gerundive, processional, and dynamic: "a leading forth." The earliest appearance of dao is in the Book of Documents in the context of cutting a channel and "leading" a river to prevent the overflowing of its banks.

Thanks for the link, Rex. All these people come across as abiding in great dignity. It’s an intense form of a path that's appropriate for many people in the second half of life. To my observation, for a young person it would most likely be a futile attempt at escape, except for short periods of retreat. Jung elucidates this theme in his essay The Stages of Life. He describes consciousness (as in the conditioned mind / acquired mind) as the source of our ‘problem,’ contrasted with nature and instinct. For modern times, the ‘problem’ disrupts the psychological progression of life’s stages. The cultivation of the Self that ought to logically be the provenance of maturity, experience, and wisdom, is undermined and overthrown by the artificiality of consciousness, not only the continued adolescent behaviour of older people as an example but more deeply the modern failure to cultivate value. Thought, like desire and achievement, does not address the problem of consciousness but exacerbates it. The tendency of our thinking is rigidly linear. We only understand that kind of thinking which is a mere equation from which nothing comes out but what we have put in. That is the working of the intellect. Jung laments how few people are aware of the character of the stages of life, how many enter them successively neglecting their significance and failing to make the necessary and healthy transformations. “Thoroughly unprepared, we take the step into the afternoon of life. Worse still, we take this step with the false presupposition that our truths and our ideals will serve us as hitherto. But we cannot live the afternoon of life according to the program of life’s morning, for what was great in the morning will be little at evening and what in the morning was true, at evening will have become a lie.” Jung uses the sun to illustrate the stages of life. Visualize a circle, then place a cross within it to create four quadrants, which, from the lower left clockwise to the lower right, represent the sun’s progress across the sky, and our human stages of life from infancy to old age. The first quadrant is childhood, when our consciousness emerges from nowhere to begin its progress. Youth should not be impeded but allowed to grow, experience, and learn. In the long midday and afternoon span the adult years of career, profession, social obligation, and self-image, conforming to the many responsibilities of the ego and the instincts of the species. “Obviously it is in the youthful period of life that we have most to gain from a thorough recognition of the instinctual side. A timely recognition of sexuality, for instance, can prevent that neurotic suppression of it which keeps a person unduly withdrawn from life, or else forces him into a wretched and unsuitable way of living with which he is bound to come into conflict. Proper recognition and appreciation of normal instincts leads the young person into life and entangles them with fate, thus involving them in life's necessities and the consequent sacrifices and efforts through which their character is developed and their experience matured.” Then the sun begins to set, and new lessons by the aging must be observed and taken to heart in order to appropriately derive the lessons of this last stage. Jung draws out these lessons: For the mature person, however, the continued expansion of life is obviously not the right principle, because the descent towards life's afternoon demands simplification, limitation, and intensification—in other words, individual cultivation. A person in the first half of life with its biological orientation can usually, thanks to the youthfulness of their whole organism, afford to expand their life and make something of value out of it. But the person in the second half of life is oriented towards inner cultivation, the diminishing powers of their organism allowing them to subordinate instincts to spiritual goals. Not a few are wrecked during the transition from the biological to the spiritual sphere. For the aging person it is a duty and necessity to devote serious attention to themselves. After having lavished its light upon the world, the sun withdraws its rays in order to illuminate itself. Instead of doing likewise, many older people prefer to be hypochondriacs, misers, pedants, applauders of the past or else eternal adolescents — all lamentable substitutes for the illumination of the Self, but inevitable consequences of the delusion that the second half must be governed by the principles of the first. (The above is adapted from an article written by Meng-Hu http://www.hermitary.com/thatch/?p=1787 . His website http://www.hermitary.com/ has extensive information on hermits including some quality videos. )

Yes, barefooted is certainly not always appropriate. It’s only in the warmer weather I go without shoes, and then only on the maintained parts of the mostly forested land that surrounds my home. I used to be more adventurous when I was younger, but now I’m more cautious of snakes, spiders and other hidden objects. After winter I toughen my feet up by walking barefooted for a few kilometres every day along this dirt road that runs through my land. But, as I mentioned in my previous post, ‘barefooted’ is also a good metaphor for developing a more pervasive felt relationship with the natural world. It’s about opening one’s being to nature, about dropping inner shields that prevent felt connection with its spirit. (And this can certainly be done wearing appropriate footwear and other clothing.) From the same book, here’s another passage I particularly like.... In the letters, poems and journal entries Samuel Taylor Coleridge wrote over the course of his months of solitary wandering the wilds of the Lakes District UK in the early years of the nineteenth century, we see him beginning to think out a new vision of wild; a vision which at times approaches a level of theology. One idea above all emerges: that the self-willed forms of wild nature can call out fresh correspondences of spirit in a person. Wilderness, in Coleridge’s account, is an energy which blows through one’s being, causing the self to shift into new patterns, opening up alternate perceptions of life. As he moved between the crags and cataracts, over the fells and moors, and through the pathless wilds, a sense of joy – joy, the beautiful and beauty-making power of nature – began to seep back into him. He felt a “fantastic pleasure that draws the Soul along swimming through the air in many shapes, even as a flight of birds in the wind.”