Geof Nanto

Yes, the phrase comes to mind, “the old, the sick and the vulnerable”. I’m not suggesting to be vulnerable is a desirable state in any absolute sense. But to truly have no vulnerabilities is an ideal state beyond the human. To be human is to have vulnerabilities. What I am suggesting is that the strength I gain from various teachings and qi based praxis is not an end in itself. What it gives me is the qi strength and spiritual tools for me to expose and work through my existing vulnerabilities. It’s a gradual process, but slowly – by utilising insights from what I’ve learnt – my vulnerabilities dissipate. When uncovering something raw I still feel the hurt but I’m better able to work my way past it. And then I’m able to allow my sensitively – my feeling, my soul – to expand that little bit more into the soul of the universe. It’s not a process I’m able to describe in any detail – it’s a subtle dance that I suspect must always be individually learnt by trial and error. I think Brian got to the heart of it when he wrote, “Vulnerability is one of the necessary components of intimacy.” I’ve had my share of close relationships and physical intimacy when I was younger but for me that was never enough. I always hungered for a greater closeness; a closeness I’ve painfully learnt is outside and beyond the possibility of inter-human relationships. What I’ve slowly come to realise is the intimacy I need can only come from ‘spirit’ - the path of mysticism. It’s a yin path, a feminine path. And the inner gateway is through refining what were once my vulnerabilities. It’s a path that demands a breaking open of what, in hindsight, I now recognise as a small egocentric self with its false sense of wholeness, working through the ensuing inner fragmentation and feelings of devastation, to find a greatly enlarged sense of self. And to survive this process – this ‘death’ and slow inner rebirth - I’ve needed decades of yang praxis and the wisdom of many people. Thus, those emotional shields are a double edge sword – they keep hurt out but also keep me isolated within a small sphere of egocentric self. I still maintain many shields – some I’m aware of, but it seems an ongoing process of uncovering deeper layers of vulnerability; and an ongoing process of gaining the wisdom to transform them into inner gateways. (Of course, in public dealings such shields are essential. Even within the semi-protected space of this well moderated forum, I learnt early on not to be too open.) I’m not overly concerned about how far I’ll get along this path. Although in a very real sense on a spiritual path “everything is yet to be learnt,” what I’ve already experienced is better than anything else I’ve felt in life. I’ve found an underlying contentment such as I’ve never felt before. Considering some of the horrors I’ve been through, that’s enough for me. Anything more is a bonus.

Philosophies, religions and any other teachings - indeed knowledge in general - can also be used as a shield for emotional vulnerabilities. Sure, they can be of great value too, but like all powerful tools they can be used or abused. What at one time was a vital aid for personal growth tends to reverse and become an obstacle if it’s clung to once its purpose is fulfilled. Once again, for me it’s an ongoing journey of trial and error to work skilfully with these tools. As the saying goes, “If you’re not making mistakes you’re not learning.” At my age (62) I can boast a past littered with mistakes – or, more positively phrased, a past gifted with many opportunities for learning.

@ Smallsteps... I like the direction your thoughts are taking you!

I think Zhuang Zhou would concur with Jung when he writes…….. “The writing lies before you and always says the same, if you believe in words. But if you believe in things in whose places only words stand, you never come to the end. And yet you must go an endless road, since life flows not only down a finite path but also an infinite one. But the unbounded makes you anxious since the unbounded is fearful and your humanity rebels against it. Consequently you seek limits and restraints so that you do not lose yourself, tumbling into infinity. Restraint becomes imperative for you. You cry out for the word which has one meaning and no other, so that you escape boundless ambiguity. The word becomes your God, since it protects you from the countless possibilities of interpretation. The word is protective magic against the daimons of the unending, which tear at your soul and want to scatter you to the winds. You are saved if you can say at last: that is that and only that. You speak the magic word, and the limitless is finally banished. Because of that men seek and make words. He who breaks the wall of words overthrows Gods and defiles temples.” From The Red Book, C G Jung

Fresh wholefoods cooked or uncooked as appropriate, and eaten in appropriate amounts. Feel it, taste it, chew it well, and connect with its qi. Eat it with love and appreciation for the plant or animal life that's been surrendered. Heavily processed foods, refined foods; indeed factory made foods in general. Overeating. Eating quickly with no attention to the food....taking our life-giving foods for granted.

Yes, but the way of Dao is reversal; we go back to the root from which all things arise. A C Graham comments on this section…… “Systems of knowledge are partial and temporary, like styles on the zither [lute], which in forming sacrifice some of the potentialities of music, and by way of their very excellence make schools fossilise in decline. Take as a model Chao Wen not playing the zither, not yet committed, with all potentialities intact.” It’s easy to see how Zen teachings derive from such anecdotes of Zhuangzi's. For instance, Shunryu Suzuki’s book title, “Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind.”…..“In the beginner's mind there are many possibilities, but in the expert's there are few.” (And it’s also easy to see how once such sayings become established wisdom, they fossilise and decline in worth.)

I like to play it slow; you guys want it fast. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6WQ2vXv-aq8

We translate and interpret from our crutch-hungry Dark we flay Zhuangzi’s mark Oh, and we were gone We were so turned on We thought we were kings Kings of oblivion In the Dao Bum’s pavilion

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kpa9LtunUcg "Atmosphere" - Joy Division Walk in silence, Don't walk away, in silence. See the danger, Always danger, Endless talking, Life rebuilding, Don't walk away. Walk in silence, Don't turn away, in silence. Your confusion, My illusion, Worn like a mask of self-hate, Confronts and then dies. Don't walk away. People like you find it easy, Naked to see, Walking on air. Hunting by the rivers, Through the streets, Every corner abandoned too soon, Set down with due care. Don't walk away, in silence, Don't walk away.

Speech is not merely the blowing of air. Speech is intended to say something, but what is spoken may not necessarily be valid. If it is not valid, has anything actually been spoken? Or has speech never actually occurred? We may consider speech to be distinct from the chirps of hatchlings, but is there really any difference between them? How has the Way become so obscured that there are true and false? How has speech become so obscured that there are right and wrong? Could it be that the Way has gone off and is no longer present? Could it be that speech is present but has lost its ability to validate? The Way is obscured by partial achievements; speech is obscured by eloquent verbiage. Thus there are controversies between Confucians and Mohists over what's right and what's wrong. They invariably affirm what their opponents deny and deny what their opponents affirm. If one wishes to affirm what others deny and deny what others affirm, nothing is better than lucidity. Everything is "that" in relation to other things and "this" in relation to itself. We may not be able to see things from the standpoint of "that," but we can understand them from the standpoint of "this." Therefore, it may be said that "that" derives from "this" and that "this " is dependent upon "that." Such is the notion of the cogenesis of "this" and "that. " Nonetheless, from the moment of birth death begins simultaneously, and from the moment of death birth begins simultaneously. Every affirmation is a denial of something else, and every denial is an affirmation of something else. "This" and "that" are mutually dependent; right and wrong are also mutually dependent. For this reason, the sage does not subscribe to [the view of absolute opposites] but sees things in the light of nature, accepting "this " for what it is. "This" is also "that"; "that" is also "this." "This" implies a concept of right and wrong; "that " also implies a concept of right and wrong. But is there really a " this" and a "that “? Or is there really no "this" and no "that"? Where "this" and "that" cease to be opposites, there lies the pivot of the Way. Only when the pivot is located in the center of the circle of things can we respond to their infinite transformations. The transformations of " right" are infinite and so are the transformations of "wrong." Therefore, it is said that nothing is better for responding to them than lucidity. Notes: Confucians and Mohists - Two schools of philosophy from the Waning States period when Chuang Tzu lived. These are meant to stand for the whole gamut of contesting schools at that time. nature - The word for "nature" in Chinese, in the sense of the natural world, is derived from that for "sky" or "heaven" (t'ien). Thus we could also say that the sage sees things in the light of heaven. In this translation "nature" is also sometimes used for the Chinese word hsing, meaning the character, personality, or disposition of an individual.

Some commentary on sections 2:1 to 2:5 from Scott Bradley ….. BACK TO THE FOREST In making his case for his proposed response to our existential dangle, Zhuangzi returns to the metaphor of the forest trees. If we had any doubt as to the relevance of the trees’ piping (earth’s piping) to our own, he here makes clear that all our activities, whether practical or emotive, inexplicably arise without any identifiable reason, as if out of a void, just as we more easily see with the trees. But this is offered as the cause of our sense of being tenuous, not as its remedy. The remedy follows in how we respond to this reality, and that requires returning to an appreciation of the equality of all things and theories. Take, for example, the chirping of baby birds. Do we believe that all our reasoned debate and profound theories about the world are different from the chirping of birds? They are; and we do. But are we also able to see how they are the same? If we have truly and deeply imagined this, we will have broken through the shell of our burdensome sense of exceptionalism; we will have realized ourselves as momentary expressions of the great unfolding. Suddenly, everything is relativized. All those things to which we cling as to “eternal truths”, all our vexation about right and wrong, all our excessive seriousness—all these fall away, and with them, our sense of being a fixed-self. We are freed to wander in the harmony of every expression. If the equalizing of human speech with the chirping of baby birds does not work for you, I would offer New York City. How does that city differ from a hive of bees? Or, more to the point, in what way is it the same? We needn’t abandon what we take to be special about human material culture to realize that sense in which it is the same as and the absolutely equal to a hive of bees or a hill of ants; yet if we can manage it, our perspective on the human enterprise will be forever changed. The insular shell of our species-specific egoism and jingoism will be shattered. Suddenly the unnameable, mysterious Whole replaces our egoism with a vast openness. I say openness, because in mystery there is nothing upon which the mind can fix. Part of the power of such imaginative exercises resides in the difficulties we discover in their attempt. They bring to the fore our innate prejudices. We can retain these if we feel we must, but at least we have had the opportunity to see them and in that to have come to know ourselves better. This, too, can be wandered in. The “contending voices” of the trees are representative of the debates of the philosophers, here the two leading contenders of Zhuangzi’s time, the Confucians and the Mohists. As they negate each other with their various theories about how best to live, we too wish to join the fray and side with one or the other or to negate them both. But what happened to the view from Dao, asks Zhuangzi, that we would judge one dao right and another wrong? Would we similarly judge between the chirpings of various birds or the sounds made by the trees in response to the wind? Isn’t it the case that whatever we do is a dao, and that every dao is equally an expression of Dao? Return if we must to discriminating between them, but first let us realize the openness that obtains in seeing their sameness. Then, perhaps, we can wander unfettered and carefree among them. (From Scott Bradley, All is well in the Great Mess)

Agreed.

Your comment made me smile. But past experience tells me that it will be taken as a criticism of Buddhism, rather than an insightful observation of the complexities of our human nature. When conscious reflection comes to the fore, spontaneity is lost - especially when a person seeks to emulate an ideal. It reminded me of a passage in Basho’s Narrow Road to the Deep North* where there’s an early mention of him coming across an abandoned baby. Basho pauses to consider what led to the child’s abandonment. Reflection leads him to determine it Heaven’s will and therefore beyond intervention. He resumes his journey, leaving the two-year-old child to its own devices. Later in the book he is asked by some women who are staying at the same inn as him if they can travel with him, clearly seeking the protection of a pilgrim on sometimes dangerous roads. He declines. (*The Narrow Road to the Deep North and Other Travel Sketches by Matsuo Bashō, Nobuyuki Yuasa (Translator)... In later life Basho turned to Zen Buddhism, and the travel sketched in this volume reflect his attempts to cast off earthly attachments and reach out to spiritual fulfillment. The sketches are written in the "haibun" style--a linking of verse and prose. The title piece, in particular, reveals Basho striving to discover a vision of eternity in the transient world around him and his personal evocation of the mysteries of the universe. )

I also very much like Ziporyn's translation. I've found it helpful to read a variety of translations / interpretations. They all have their strengths and weaknesses. I recently came across this pleasingly lucid exploration of the Zhuangzi, based predominantly on Ziporyn's translation. ALL IS WELL IN THE GREAT MESS: An Adaptation of the Inner Chapters of the Zhuangzi with Reflections by Scott P Bradley Here is a review written by Brook Ziporyn,,,,,, Scott Bradley reads, lives and breathes the spirit of Zhuangzi with his blood—not to mention with his eyes and his ears as they open into the world, with his knowing consciousness as it plumbs and unravels both its other and itself, and with all the cells in his body: he reads the Zhuangzi as Zhuangzi tells us the Genuine Person breathes: from his heels. A bystander can only sigh in gratitude to see that this is still possible, heartened that the pulse of Zhuangzi finds its channel in the world yet: in his many years sailing the watery part of the world—the Daoiest part of the Dao, according to some—led only by the radiance of drift and doubt, Bradley has floated his craft safely past both the Scylla of know-nothing New Age enthusiasm and the Charybdis of scholarly forestblind literalism, past both theomorphic piety and complacent humanism, producing a highly accessible, spirited and subtle interpretative rendering and evocation of the Zhuangzi which at the same time communicates the living spirit and the lifeblood of its argument with a rigor and attention to crucial nuances and distinctions which is heartbreakingly lacking in most works on the subject. Bradley’s work makes sense of the Zhuangzi, and rides that sense true and close, all the way out to the refreshing life-giving open sea of its sense-preserving senselessness.

Continued… However, I most certainly appreciate the need for vocal principled environmentalists as a counterbalance for those who advocate unbridled development. I was one myself in my younger days. And it was important for me to be one. But now I’m more interested in gaining insight into the forces that dictate the behavior of both camps; I claim no privileged position to judge the unfolding patterns of Dao. For the living Dao, growth and destruction go hand in hand. Without death there cannot be new life. My personal feeling is one of great sadness for the ongoing degradation of our natural environment. But I know I had to partially destroy my own health in order to begin to find myself – it seems such is the Way of nature, both personally and on a global scale. In this sense, we, and all the rest of nature, are like straw dogs – we’re both revered and trampled on, according to our harmonies and disharmonies with the mysterious unfolding of Dao. Whilst, as conscious humans we are somewhat able to rectify our personal disharmonies, we are all nevertheless part of the greater patterns of life of which we have no control.

Thanks for your compliments, Dustybeijing. You’re someone whose comments I respect for their genuineness – even when I don’t entirely agree with your perspective. The topic of this thread is framed from a Confucian / humanist perspective and many of the comments follow that vein. Nothing wrong with that as such, but to my mind it misses the heart of classical Daoism. For someone seeking to feel the ebb and flow of the living Dao, duties and principles are a great trap. A reworking of Chapter 18 of the Daodejing for modern times…… When the great Dao is dispensed with, Then there is humanity and righteousness. When knowledge and cleverness come out, Then there is great falsity. When our relationship with the environment is not harmonious, Then there is ‘Green’ duty and compassion for nature. When the State and people are in confusion, Then there are principled environmentalists.

Inside the Dharma gates where form and emptiness are not two A lame turtle with painted eyebrows stands in the evening breeze

I was a city dweller for the first half of my life. Then in 1994 I undertook a solo year long journey into some of the remote wilderness places of Central Australia and the Kimberley region. I camped for weeks at a time in remote places of powerful presence. My clumsy words (below) could never do justice to the great transformative power of immersion in nature. I say experience it yourself while it still can be found – for some of us, it is our greatest teacher. On my return I packed up my belongings and moved permanently away from the city. I acquired some forested semi-wilderness acres and have cared for it as a wilderness sanctuary for the last 20 years. Or, more correctly, the land has helped heal me. Emptiness When the thought-train that binds loosens its grip When stillness comes When the inside merges outside Mind expands into the universe What fear it brings to feel what's human slipping away And a primal vastness Without time or boundaries Glimpsed in its majesty Brings such joy to being alive Dust to dazzling Splendours from the Dreamtime Nurtured and strengthened for thousands of years By the ones we've shamed as stone-age primitives Us 'white-fellas" come along Blind and hungry, eating up Always wanting more Our Earth our mother we give no thought only our own pleasures, never ending Relieving our discomfort By taking, taking, taking, from you You tolerate us, though we harm you We are your children Silly destructive children Needy lost children Children of science Bringers of sickness Dealers in death

From David Cooper's Convergence with Nature: A Daoist Perspective....... It is because Daoist self-cultivation is not focused on the 'inner' rather than the 'outer' that it requires an appropriate attunement and comportment towards the natural world. Engagements with nature help to secure the moral space – the arena in which to develop virtue – which Daoists hope to occupy. This is why the metaphor of Daoists as gardeners of the world – as cultivators of personal landscapes – is an apt one. While Daoists engage with natural environments, their engagement is also a retreat – not from an 'outer' to an 'inner' world, but from a frenzied world of activity and ambition to a quieter haven. From this haven, they have no illusions about 'saving the planet'. Like one distinguished nature writer, they eschew "plans for reorganisation and reconstruction". But, also like him, they will want to reduce somewhat the level of suffering where they encounter it and, more generally, to serve in small, local and undramatic ways to protect and enhance the natural environments with which they engage. In doing so, they live naturally or spontaneously, for their actions are not dictated by principles and plans, but are mindful and pliant responses to the situations and contexts they encounter.

Some more thoughts on this line…… It would appear that Chieh Yii's words were directed at you. – Victor Mair If you were then to 'agree' with his words, you would be acting like a virgin girl who has just reached her time. - Brook Ziporyn When he spoke these words he was like a girl who waits for a suitor to come. - A C Graham If you were to believe it, in any case, that would be like a virgin pretending to know all about love-making. Scott Bradley (I particularly like this one for its reference to the mystery at the heart of love-making; although for me it's a virgin image better suited to a boastful teenage boy. It's seems there is much prejudice directed against girls.) My own interpretation…. The teenage girl reaching her time for marriage is a powerful force of nature and one that’s lauded in classical Daoism for its fecundity. Such blossoming energy is at the very core of ongoing life. Yin seeks yang and yang seeks yin. The madman Jieyu (Chieh Yii) has yin-like sensibility that’s undifferentiated, vast, unfathomable and mysterious to regular people - hence he's seen as mad. The suitor he seeks is in the very words he speaks. He tries to give shape to his inner experience. He’s wanting to mate his ineffable yin reality with the yang of definite words and thereby fertilise other minds. Such an uncannily subtle joining is at the heart of Zhuangzi’s project. He seeks to bring us the yang-like definiteness of interpretation, yet ever reminding us of the limiting qualities that interpretation must always entail. He is a mystic who seeks to keep the undifferentiated ‘emptiness’ of yin whole, to the extent that he scorns all philosophical and metaphysical interpretations as just that; mere interpretations that are a product of our various human perspectives. He wanders freely through all realms, yet treads so lightly that he leaves intact the mystery at the heart of life.

Agreed, both about the books and the movie. Another of my favourites is the Farseer series of books by Robin Hobb. This genre of so called fantasy allows authors to explore areas that are generally off limits to mainstream literature; in particular extrasensory perception. And in this area Hobb’s is masterful. Her stories have helped me gain insight into these abilities as they manifest in my own life. To my observation the latent potential of such psychic abilities that many people have is amplified by those of us with a sensitivity who adopt a more spiritual lifestyle. And her excellent story telling ability makes her works a delightful pleasure to read.

Yes, it was a comment that needs to be read in the context of the long and nuanced introduction to Mair's Zhuangzi translation. For instance, amongst much other relevant background information, his introduction has a detailed section outlining Zhuangzi's interaction with the dominant philosophical schools of the so-called Hundred Schools of Thought of the Warring States period. I agree we don't have to categorise it as philosophy or literature. It's become a classic because it masterfully combines the two - as does all good literature. And for me, stories and poetry provide a far more suitable vehicle for hinting at the ineffable Dao than any linearly logical philosophical text ever could.

I have Victor Mair's translation. It is a highly regarded work, as is the author. The philosophy of the text definitely did not go right over his head. His observation about its quality as literature is totally valid. Remember we're dealing with a culture that valued poetic skill above all else. Here’s the conclusion from Mair’s essay The Zhuangzi and its Impact in the Daoism Handbook…… To summarize, the Zhuangzi has had an overwhelming literary, philosophical, and religious influence upon writers, thinkers, and practitioners of various persuasions and is one of the oldest and most pervasive Daoist documents. Its significance and impact, not only in Daoism but also in Chinese culture in general, is all the more remarkable in light of the fact that the text is quite anti-Confucian. Although there are chapters, such as those with the word "Heaven" in their titles, which seem to constitute an unsuccessful attempt to subvert the Zhuangzi to a Confucian agenda, Confucius and his school of thought are ridiculed—with a high degree of effectiveness—on many occasions throughout the text. It is probable that the Zhuangzi survived, in spite of its anti-orthodoxy, because of its sheer wit and charm. Although Confucius and his followers are frequently made to appear like fools in the .Zhuangzi, the satire is executed with such humor and good grace that even the most staid Confucians must have smiled (at least inwardly) when they read it. Above all, the Zhuangzi succeeded because it represented a necessary countercultural foil or relief to the solemnity and seriousness of the host of other political thinkers who have crowded the pages of the history of Chinese thought, particularly in its formative stage during the Warring States period.

Here’s an inspiring description of the experience of ‘silence’ in the Daoist sense from John Blofeld’s, My Journey in Mystic China……. In 1948, on the night before the Lantern Festival, I unexpectedly encountered a peculiar event. That day I had heard about a 'living immortal' who was staying in the western quarter of the city, and this came as strange news to me. Although I was not certain that there existed such a thing, I really wanted to go meet this so-called immortal. Because I'd heard that this living immortal would soon be going to the south and I might therefore miss my opportunity, I decided then and there to immediately pay him a visit. It took over an hour to reach the immortal's residence. A note on the gate informed visitors that the immortal was in the midst of meditation and no one was permitted to enter. I was freezing to death, and needed to warm myself by a fire. Using this as an excuse, I mustered my courage and went resolutely inside. The gatekeeper told me that it was forbidden to enter, but he didn't dare raise his arm to block me and just stood there agitated, so he did not stop me from walking up to the front door and knocking. A servant opened the door and led me to the parlor to warm myself by the fire. And there before my eyes sat the immortal. He was sitting cross-legged on a mat, meditating. He sat with his back to the door and did not notice that someone had entered the room, and for a long time he just sat there like a lifeless statue. When he finally stood up, turned around, and noticed me, he did not seem the least bit surprised, and said casually, "Good, good! Mr. Pu, you have arrived." Struck with wonder and curiosity by his prescience, I asked myself how he could possibly know that my name was Pu. Until the moment that I told my servant to find me a cab, even I did not know that today I would be going to visit this complete stranger. After arriving at his residence, I hadn't mentioned my name to anyone there. So the moment I heard him address me as "Mr. Pu," I stood there wide-eyed and slack-jawed with wonder, and felt very astonished. He called for tea, and invited me to sit down. We sat facing one another, with a small tea table between us. I bowed to pay my respects, then said politely, "It's a great honor to meet you, esteemed immortal, and please forgive me for disturbing you. Do you have a few minutes to spare? Otherwise, I could .... " It was obvious that he was not pleased to hear me address him as "immortal," and so he riposted with the question, "Is it possible that there exists such a thing as an immortal in this world? And if indeed there really are such strange creatures, by no means should you mistake me as one of them. In my humble opinion, immortals are characters fabricated by human beings. Regrettably, my humble self is sometimes praised by others as being an immortal. How on earth could there possibly be such a thing? Please, sir, address me as Taoist Dzeng." This white-haired Taoist wasn't wearing Taoist robes. He wore a long padded tunic of blue satin and felt boots. His hair was cut short, like most elderly men in contemporary China. It was clear that he felt great disdain for charlatans posing as immortals. I said, "Although the venerable Mr. Dzeng is not an immortal, you certainly are endowed with great spiritual power. Otherwise, how could you foretell that my name n Pu?" He poured me a cup of tea before replying, "My humble self may perhaps have a small measure of obscure clairvoyant ability. That's a very common result of practicing meditation." "May I inquire, sir, what business brings you here, that you would risk the cold to come to my residence?" At this moment, Taoist Dzeng's expression seemed to carry a tinge of sarcasm. With a straight face I replied, "My humble self has for a long time wished to meet a Taoist adept who is highly accomplished in the mystical arts, and to ask him for guidance regarding which type of practices are most effective for restoring youth and prolonging life." The venerable old Dzeng smiled and said, "'If you don't believe in the teaching, you cannot obtain its benefits.” How can I possibly explain this in words? Ha-ha, Mr. Pu has climbed famous mountains, and has received teachings from many great Buddhist monks and Taoist adepts, so why would you find it worthwhile to ask for guidance from my humble self? I daresay, sir, that you must be familiar with some words of advice from the Tao Teh Ching. The general meaning of this advice is that visiting famous mountains and traveling afar to seek teachings about the Tao is not nearly as useful as staying home, shutting the door, and examining your own mind." When he finished speaking, he gazed steadily into my eyes, as though concentrating the full power of his attention on making me understand. At that moment, a very peculiar sensation suddenly arose within me. All of a sudden, he, I, and everything in the space between us, while still retaining their external appearance, seemed to condense into an inseparable singularity, as though we had suddenly dissolved into one amorphous entity. This dimension of existence gave me a feeling a great joy. For a short while, my mind was mesmerized and my spirit was lost, but at the same time, I knew that this condition was definitely not a distorted fantasy. The strange thing was that although I felt very happy and at ease in that state, I also felt that I could not withstand this man's spiritual power much longer, and that if I did not soon break free of his gaze, I might never return to the normal world, and so I quickly lowered my eyes and terminated that mysterious sensation. Just then, a group of visitors arrived to see him. They seemed to have come by previous appointment. Therefore, I did not wish to disturb him any longer, bade him farewell, and took my leave. A few days later I heard that the venerable Dzeng had already departed by train for the south. I had missed the opportunity to inquire in detail about several strange matters. For example, how had he known my surname? How had he known that I visited many famous mountains, and that I'd sought teachings about Buddhist doctrine and Taoist mysteries from numerous renowned masters? Relatively speaking, these few matters were not very important. Before we'd met, it was possible that the old man had casually heard that there was a Westerner named Pu living in Peking who had a strong interest in Taoism, and possibly he'd heard people discussing my appearance and other things about me. Although this was only a slight possibility, it was also not impossible. But Old Dzeng had definitely caused me to experience the phenomenon known as "myriad objects uniting into one whole," and for a very short time I had entered into this mysterious dimension. I'd like to discuss in more detail the meaning of this so-called “uniting as one whole" phenomenon, both from the perspective of Taoist reaching as well as modern science. When Old Dzeng fixed his penetrating gaze on me, I definitely and very clearly perceived the inseparable and boundless nature of all phenomena. That is to say, my perception at the time was that even though all objects had their own separate relative identity, at the same rime they were also all completely unified as one primordial entity. That of course defies logic, and is a principle that lies beyond rational debate. I had long ago learned from my Buddhist and Taoist studies about the relative nature of reality, and that only through a higher level of wisdom could one really understand the true nature of phenomena. And yet, in only a few fleeting moments, Old Dzeng had given me a direct experiential perception of the fundamental nature of reality. Regarding this matter, there is a passage in the Tao Teh Ching that states: We look but we don't see it and call it indistinct We listen but don’t hear it And call it faint We reach but don't grasp it and call it ethereal Three failed means of knowledge I weave into one with no light above with no shade below too fine to be named returning to nothing.... and discover the ancient maiden This is the thread of the Way The words "weave into one" in this passage refer to the essential, indivisible unity of all phenomena. The last sentence states that we must clearly understand that all phenomena arise from the same formless, invisible source, the infinite ocean of primordial energy, which Lao-tze refers to here as "the ancient maiden," the "mother of all things." After my meeting with the old Taoist Dzeng, I never again had the opportunity to communicate with another genuine Taoist master in China. That was the last time I received the benefit of direct personal guidance from a traditional Chinese master regarding the ancient teachings of the Great Tao. (For a longer version, originally posted by Gerald see: http://www.thedaobums.com/topic/40623-hua-shan-–-daoist-sacred-mountain/?p=683193 and: http://www.thedaobums.com/topic/40623-hua-shan-–-daoist-sacred-mountain/?p=682767 )

Thanks. These are both beautifully crafted websites. I've added them to my bookmarks and will read them slowly with the attention they deserve. I'd already looked at the first few chapters of your Daodejing and found them insightful. The only word that jarred for me was your use of 'sky' expressing "earth & sky". Of course 'Heaven' is problematic but to my mind so is 'sky'. However I know you'll have considered all your words carefully. (I can readily see your personality in your choice of words now I know a little of you from your Dao Bum posts. That's something that comes across after reading multiple translations - I get insight not only into the Daodejing but also into the conceptual framing of the various translators. Zhuang Zhou says a person can free themselves from human attributes - but then there'd be no words, just Daoist silence.)