Geof Nanto

I’ve done plenty of travelling, much living and read widely. All of it important; necessary for building a strong foundation. But ultimately the path can only be found within. However what that means can take a lifetime to discover - a lifetime of trial and error.

Edward A. Burger could have some good advice as he's spent time living with Buddhist hermits in China near Huashan. I don't know him but he comes across as open and friendly in the video he made called Amongst White Clouds. He has a Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/edwardaburger

On a more serious note...... These sort of aphorisms are not meant as absolute truths; rather they are in dialogue with prevailing attitudes. They are an encapsulation of pertinent insights within the domain of our conceptual reality, and need to be applied wisely for benefit.

This implies as a corollary "She who speaks does know."

A few thoughts about aspects of ideas that are potential traps…….. "In the beginner's mind there are many possibilities, but in the expert's there are few." From Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind by Shunryu Suzuki. “The language I speak must be equivocal, that is ambiguous, to do justice to the psychic nature with its double aspect. I strive consciously and deliberately for ambiguous expression, because it is superior to unequivocalness and corresponds to the nature of being. Unequivocalness is simplicity and leads to death. But ambiguity is the way of life.” C G Jung “Life can escape whatever confines it and regain its freedom, allowing it to remain open to unfiltered transformation. Based on deliberate de-ontologisation (and de-theologisation), this release from meaning (from dogma, belief, truth) results in a depressurisation of existence, which ceases to be episodic or forced. The homeostasis whereby life maintains itself is restored, replacing the tension of existence (projecting toward a goal, akin to meaning).” François Jullien Vital Nourishment

If ideas were like rabbits…… I’d call the open ended evocativeness of the best poetry like rabbits living free in the wilderness. The allegories of Zhuangzi in its original archaic Chinese like healthy rabbits in a large enclosed paddock. Translations into English like rabbits caught in a snare – they are still alive but their freedom is restricted by whatever length of the snare wire the translator has allowed. And explicit commentary like Moeller’s is like a killed, skinned and cooked rabbit served up on a dish. Personally, I like his cooking style and find his meals tasty. I like his combination of spices and additives – to me they serve to highlight the flavour. But obviously tastes vary – some people even question his qualifications as a chef. My underlying preference though is for mixing with rabbits in the wild – but, being an embodied human, I also like to eat cooked food.

How could I talk to someone who has forgotten words? When it comes to two sages having no ideas, they will both have nothing to talk about. I’ve never been to China and never met a Daoist sage, let alone two together, so I have no idea how they would interact. However I have trekked by camel in the remote Kimberley region of Western Australia where it borders the Great Sandy Desert. And there, years ago, I came across a few Aborigines in a bush camp – and one old man was very impressive indeed. He had a powerful presence, a profound dignity and a great ‘silence’ like wilderness itself but more so. Just sitting with him transformed my headspace. He used no words, but to be in his presence was to be totally immersed in an immense ineffable ‘silence’. Using Daoist terminology, I would say he had great de. That’s how I imagine two Daoist sages would ‘converse’. And I don’t mean like me and him, I wasn’t there at all. I mean two people like him. Hence the Daoist claim that nature is the best teacher is very real for me – nature, and for him connection with a continuous culture stretching back over thirty thousand years (now virtually lost).

To my mind the purpose of this thread is about the potential trap of ideas, along with the thoughts expressed in Dustybeijing's final paragraph. However I'm posting the full version of Moellers commentary for those who are interested in his reasoning. But, like I said in my previous post "by trying to fix any interpretation as definitive we risk losing the essence." THE FISHNET ALLEGORY—OR: HOW TO FORGET THINKING There is another famous allegory in the Zhuangzi that has been interpreted in a rather Western manner on the basis of its standard English translation. This story can also be understood quite differently if one looks at it from a "classical" Daoist perspective. Here is, first of all, the fishnet allegory of the Zhuangzi in Burton Watson's "standard" translation: The fish trap exists because of the fish; once you've gotten the fish, you can forget the trap. The rabbit snare exists because of the rabbit; once you've gotten the rabbit, you can forget the snare. Words exist because of meaning; once you've gotten the meaning, you can forget the words. Where can I find a man who has forgotten words so I can have a word with him?" At first sight, this allegory seems to be easy to understand. Just as one uses certain tools for fishing and hunting in order to get what is desired but hard to catch, so too does human communication makes use of words in order to catch certain difficult ideas or meanings. And just as one no longer cares about the hunting tool once they have performed their job, one also no longer cares about linguistic tools once they conveyed a certain meaning or sense. Or in other words, with respect to the object and not to the tool: What matters is getting it and having it in one's hands. Just as what matters in fishing and hunting is getting the fish and the game, what matters with words is getting the idea or the meaning. This does not sound terribly unfamiliar to Western philosophical ears, and today the fishnet allegory is usually interpreted in just this manner. It is said that what is essential for Daoism is the deeper meaning behind the texts or the words of the masters. Just as one may forget the fish trap once the fish is caught, one may also forget the Daoist texts and words once one has understood their true message. In respect to language, the words are consequently unimportant, for all that really counts are the "ideas." Expressed in formal terminology, the Daoist teaching would accordingly be: signifiers are arbitrary and negligible, all that really matters is the signified. Such a reading of the fishnet allegory is similar to Giles's rendering of the butterfly dream story in that it strongly parallels "classical" Old-European philosophy. The concept that words are expressions of mental contents, which are representations of facts, can be traced back to at least Aristotle's De Interpretatione. In order to understand facts, one must accordingly go beyond words to grasp the ideas that stand for the facts. Once one leaves words behind and arrives at the thoughts, one will comprehend the truth. In order to arrive at truth one has to arrive at ideas. Readings of the fishnet allegory that focus on the "getting" of true ideas can be found not only in modern Western studies of Daoist thought, but also within the Chinese tradition. One example is Wang Bi, the above mentioned somewhat "metaphysical" commentator on the Daodejing.I believe, however, that a close look at the text of the fishnet allegory, at Guo Xiang's commentary to it, and at the Zhuangzi and other ancient Daoist texts reveals that early Daoists wanted to say something very different with this parable, for the standard translation and interpretation miss a most decisive pun. The decisive pun in the fishnet allegory is "hidden" in the two Chinese characters that in Watson's translation have been rendered as "[ once you've] gotten the meaning." These two characters are in Chinese de yi, which literally means "to get (de) the meaning." The character for "meaning" can also be translated as "idea," "intention," "desire," or "wish." Thus it can both designate an unspecific mental content (as in "meaning" or "idea") as well as, more specifically, the "wish" or "desire" one has in mind. In the phrase de yi, the word yi is more often understood in the second scence of "desire" or "wish," so that the expression usually means (as in Mathews's Chinese-English Dictionary) "to get one's desires." In this sense it often just means "to be satisfied" (as in the phrase de yi de hen, ‘exceedingly well satisfied", see Mathews's Chinese English Dictionary'`). It is in this very sense that the phrase is used - with a slight grammatical variation - in its only other occurrence in the Zhuangzi. One has to have this ambiguity in mind—that the phrase de yi literally means "to get the meaning" but is usually used in the sense of "to get one's desires" or simply "to be satisfied"—in order to fully understand the point of the fishnet allegory. The philosophical point of the fishnet allegory is, I firmly believe, not at all merely that one is supposed to "forget words" in order to grasp the true meaning or idea of the Dao—as the standard "Aristotelian" interpretation maintains. It is rather, that to "get the meaning" or "idea" of the Dao means "to be satisfied"—and that this satisfaction consists in having nothing in one's mind, in having no specific "meanings" or "ideas." Thus, I will argue, that "to get the meaning" (de yi) in a Daoist sense means, paradoxically, to be perfectly content (de yi) by no longer having any mental contents.' The phrase de yi is used in the fishnet allegory with this double meaning. The allegory is then not about how to get ideas, but about how to get rid of them. The Zhuangzi discusses the problem of "ideas" or meanings quite frequently. The character yi is used more than fifty times in the book, and it is often used in semantic connection with words for "language" or "speech" (yan). Practically every time that the notion of yi ("meaning," "idea") appears in the sense of "the meaning of words" it has a negative connotation attached to it. Nowhere does the Zhuangzi say that it is good or desirable for the Daoist sage to have "ideas," but it often says the exact opposite: that the sage should neither be stuck with words nor with ideas or meanings. So why should the fishnet allegory—and only the fishnet allegory—contradict the general Daoist tenor? A typical statement on words and meanings or ideas (yi) in the Zhuangzi goes as follows (with Guo Xiang's commentary in italics): What can be discussed with words is the coarseness of things. What can be reached with ideas is the refinement of things. That which cannot be discussed with words and that which cannot be investigated and reached with ideas neither belongs to the coarse nor to the refined. Only non presence [wu]! What about the presence [you] of words and ideas? Well, words and ideas are present [you]. And that which words and ideas are about is nonpresence. So one looks for it in the realm of words and ideas, and then one enters the dominion of no-words and no-ideas and has finally arrived. That which is neither coarse nor refined is the Dao. It is, as the Zhuangzi and Guo Xiang make perfectly clear, to be found neither in words, nor "meanings," nor "ideas" (yi). In order to arrive at the Dao, one has to go beyond both words and ideas. Accordingly, the Daoist master Tian Z1 Fang describes the qualities of his teacher in the Zhuangzi as follows: "He made people's ideas disappear." Ideas, as another passage in the Zhuangzi explains, are among the "six evils" that "confound the heart. The Daoist sage, or the zhen ren ("true man"), attempts to discard all the intentions and ideas in his or her mind. The Zhuangzi says: "Even more than a sheep he/she casts off ideas." The Zhuangzi is full of such declarations of the limitations of words and ideas or meanings. Why should the fishnet allegory then declare that the Daoist sage aims at "getting the meaning"? Other early texts also show that Daoist philosophy was not simply about "getting ideas." The expression "No ideas!" (wu yi) appears as a philosophical motto. The Liezi says: "No ideas!—Then the heart will be one." Given this philological and philosophical evidence, what does the fishnet allegory really say? How has it been understood by Daoist readers? One has to go back to the text itself and to Guo Xiang's commentary to answer this question. Guo Xiang comments on the fishnet allegory with only one sentence. He writes: When it comes to two sages having no ideas [wu yi], they will both have nothing to talk about. It is clear that for Guo Xiang the fishnet allegory does not say that the Daoist sage "gets the meaning" (de yi), but rather that he/she will be left with "no ideas"—this is just what he literally says. Guo Xiang obviously read the fishnet allegory in this way: Once a Daoist sage no longer has ideas, then he/she will also have attained the "desired" speechlessness. Thus, when two Daoist sages with empty minds meet, they can hardly start a philosophical conversation. There would simply be nothing to say! 'They could not discuss any "true meanings"! According to the "Aristotelian" interpretation of the fishnet allegory, the true philosopher will have to go beyond words in order to get the meaning." According to Guo Xiang’s Daoist reading of the fishnet allegory, the sage has to discard all ideas in order to realize Daoist silence. With the help of Guo Xiang's commentary a Daoist reading of the fishnet allegory can be reconstructed. One can now understand the final sentence of the text in a somewhat less cryptic manner. In the light of Guo Xiang's interpretation the last sentence of the original can be simply read as: "How could I talk to somebody who has forgotten words?" Such a reading is philologically as plausible as Watson's, but is philosophically in accord with Guo Xiang's commentary. How and why would a Daoist sage, if he/she should meet another one, start arguing? Read in a Daoist way, the fishnet allegory is not about what sages "get," but rather about what they lose. This is perfectly in accord with the Daodejing, which repeatedly states not only that that the Dao and the sage are silent, but also that their strategy is one of gain by loss (see for instance Daodejing, chapter 48). *In the light of the basic Daoist teaching of "no words, no ideas," one can now reread the three parallel statements of the fishnet allegory. The first two of these are perfectly parallel images, both semantically and linguistically. The third sentence though, as is often the case with jokes or humoristic tales, contains a pun and breaks, in an ironic way, with the pattern the reader was made familiar with in the two preceding lines. The last line is, as pointed out above, ambiguous, and it is ambiguous because of the double meaning of the phrase de yi. Let us read the fishnet allegory again from the beginning. Somewhat differently from Watson's translation, the first two sentences have as their main syntactic and semantic topics not fish and rabbits and the question of how to catch them, but rather fish traps and rabbit snares and the issue of how one can no longer be concerned with them. The text explicitly puts the snare and the trap in the first section, not the fish and the rabbit. So let us read the text in accord with its actual structure. The first sentences say in a more literal translation: As to al fish trap: [it is] the means to get hold of fish. [One] gets the fish, and then [one can] forget the fish trap. As to a rabbit snare: [it is] the means to get hold of rabbits. [One] gets the rabbit, and then [one can] forget the rabbit snare. The text obviously focuses more on traps and snares than on fish and rabbits. It tells us that they are instruments for getting something, and that they can only be of no more concern once they have helped us to get what they are made to get. So the text is first of all about instruments and the conditions under which we no longer care or depend on them. In order to be free from these instruments, one has to be in a state in which there is no need for them. When one has caught the fish or rabbit and, implicitly, when one is having them for a meal, one can put the snare and trap aside for a while. Only when you are no longer hungry will you not care about hunting. Let us look now at the third sentence of the fishnet allegory in a similarly literal translation: [As to] words: [they are] the means to get hold of ideas. [One] gets the idea [de yi], and then [one can] forget the words. This is the first possible reading of the line that contains the pun. In parallel to the first two sentences it says as much as: In order to be in a state of no longer caring about words, you must have understood their meaning. Only when you have "digested" the idea that the words "caught," will you no longer be "hungry" for the idea or concerned with the words. Once you've read the book and know the story, you can put it back on the shelf. This reading is somewhat similar to the standard interpretation—but it is quite incomplete, since it misses the crucial pun: de yi does not only mean "to get the idea" but, more commonly, "to get what one desires," or "to be satisfied." Thus the third line of the fishnet allegory also means: [As to] words: [they are] the means to get hold of ideas. [One] gets one's desire [de yi], and then [one can] forget the words. In this reading, the line says that the true condition for no longer caring about words is to get one's desire or to be satisfied. But what is the "desire" of the Daoist sage? What does it mean for him/her to be "satisfied"? As the Zhuangzi frequently states, the "desire" of the sage is to be without desires, namely to be without intentions, wishes, and ideas. For the Daoist sage "to get one's desire" (de yi) means ironically, but exactly, to "have no desire" (wu yi ). The desire has to be eaten up in order to be fulfilled. It's fulfilled once it is gone! This is a basic Daoist philosophical paradox, and it is expressed in the pun of the fishnet allegory. To “get the idea” and "to get the meaning" (de yi) of Daoism is "to get one's desire" or "to be satisfied" (de yi)—but this means for the sage just "to have no ideas" (wu yi)! "Having" the idea has a double sense. It is like "having" a fish or a rabbit, or having a pizza and a beer—in English "having" a pizza and a beer actually means eating up the pizza and drinking up the beer. Once one has a pizza or a beer, one cannot have it any longer. The desire is fulfilled when it has disappeared. And the Daoist desire for ideas only disappears once the idea is "eaten up"—when it is no longer there. Getting the idea of the Dao means to get rid of any idea of it. As the Daodejing put it (chapter 78): Right words are like the reverse. Obviously, the "Aristotelian" reading of the fishnet allegory does not get this idea. In a paradoxical yet Daoist manner the fishnet allegory can be read—in a free rendering that tries to convey the pun by using the word "to have" in the double sense of "possessing" and "eating up"—as follows: A fish trap is the means to get hold of fish. You can only forget about the fish trap once you've had your fish. A rabbit snare is the means to get hold of rabbits. You can only forget about the rabbit snare once you've had your rabbit. Words are the means to get hold of ideas. You can only forget about the words once you've had your ideas. How could I talk to somebody who has forgotten words? When it comes to two sages having no ideas, they will both have nothing to talk about. The fishnet allegory is by no means about how to catch and keep some deep thoughts or ideas. It is, on the contrary, about the method of getting rid of thoughts and ideas in order to arrive at a perfect Daoist silence. It is about how to become permanently satisfied and to completely eliminate the hunger for the next dish of meanings and language. (From Daoism Explained: From the Dream of the Butterfly to the Fishnet Allegory by Hans-Georg Moeller. pp55-61)

Thanks Dustybeijing for starting this thread. Many exciting ideas here for me. Some aspect of my being is totally enticed, enchanted or even bewitched by specific strands of conceptual reality – and this is undoubtable one of them. I can feel my self almost panting, chafing at the bit, wanting to dive headlong into the topic. So that is my practice – to gain insight into this very real aspect of myself that’s loves concepts. I neither want to let it dominate me, nor suppress it. There’s obviously something important about myself behind the compulsion that I’m as yet unaware of. So for me, writing here is like using danger to overcome danger. Or using a thorn to remove a thorn. (I admire the apparent detachment of Dustybeijing's opening passages. It’s not a numb, desensitised detachment though – I sense he feels deeply on the topic. It’s more a detachment of inner stillness.) Now, having said all that, my passion to pursue the topic has somewhat moderated. I write with a tad of inner stillness…….. The beauty of evocative language such as poetic imagery is that it allows the artist to work above herself. Zhuang Zhou was one of those rare beings gifted both with poetry and philosophy. He could obviously write explicitly but preferred poetry and allegory because of its resonance with the Dao. Vague and illusive! Within it there is an image. Vague and illusive! Within it there is a thing. Withdrawn and dark! Within it there is an essence. The essence is genuine and authentic. Within there is trust. Hence attempts to explain Zhuangzu, whilst helpful, will always be partial. And by trying to fix any interpretation as definitive we risk losing the essence. (And there I'll leave it for now because I have other things to do but more later…… Also I'm a very slow writer.)

To my understanding this is not the implication of the fishtrap analogy. "Did you grasp the concept presented in those words? If so then you should be able to express them with your own words." That's the sort of interpretation Moeller is refuting. (Though what you say about the difference between knowledge and wisdom is certainly valid in other contexts.) The old masters have used words to trap aspects of the Dao as concepts we can grasp with our human discriminating mind. Once we've been nourished by the wisdom of those words that tell us that the mind of Dao exists beyond words, then we know to develop our praxis of direct connection with the Dao, and forget the realm of words and concepts. In other language, the words and the concepts they convey are like the finger pointing towards the moon.

I’m no fan of some aspects of scientific research and appreciate what you’re implying about science denying reality because it can’t currently (or possibly ever) be measured. However, many animal behaviour researchers are totally dedicated and spend a great part of their life with animals. For instance, researcher Irene Pepperberg spent over 20 years on an almost daily basis working with the African gray parrot she named Alex. In her book Morrell writes “Nearly all the scientists I met for this book wished they could talk to their animals…….Many of them had dreamed that they talked to their animal and he or she talked back. They envied Doctor Doolittle.” When Alex died Pepperberg grieved for him as a friend. She wanted to remember Alex as her buddy, a pal full of life and mischief, amazing the world of science for doing so many things a parrot was not supposed to be able to do. BTW I have many conceptual problems with the kind of research these people are doing because, to my mind, their work is based on a flawed model of consciousness, but that’s beyond the scope of what I'm writing here. I also think for this type of research the scientist would better be equipped to understand the minds of animals if they were to work on improving their intuitive abilities by, for instance, undertake full mind/body training such as Daoist based praxis (amongst many other types).

There's a big difference in the line "When the ideas are grasped, the words are forgotten." Moeller considers the notion that there are 'real' ideas behind the words a Western concept of reality - not a Daoist one. For him the correct Daoist reading is about forgetting both words and ideas. (I like "using thorns to remove other thorns". The final thorn can then be thrown away. Thanks gatito - I hadn't heard that before.) This is the conventional interpretation that Moeller denies...."The concept that words are expressions of mental contents, which are representations of facts, can be traced back to at least Aristotle's De Interpretations. In order to understand facts, one must accordingly go beyond words to grasp the ideas that stand for the facts. Once one leaves the words behind and arrives at the thoughts, one will comprehend the truth. In order to arrive at the truth one has to arrive at ideas."

I originally posted it as a reply to someone else’s comment in “Do you believe qi is an illusion?” (post # 33), but obviously it’s less relevant to follow up there than here. And it’s probably not possible to critique Moeller’s interpretation of the fishnet allegory without reading his full 8 page explanation. However, if you have any thoughts on it I'm certainly interested to hear them. Basically he’s critical of the mainstream interpretation because he sees it as a Western interpretation constructed from our conceptual foundations in classical Greek and Old-European philosophies. Really what I was looking for is someone who’s familiar with Moeller’s work. I particularly like his explanations as they both resonate with - and greatly expand - my own insights. Consequently I have adopted many of his views as my own. Hence, I’m interested in how his interpretation stands amongst those with specialist interest. I haven't found any relevant critique on the web and was hoping the members of this community may have some insights. I like to check the authenticity of my sources and am happy to find when I'm wrong – then I know I've learnt something new.

I don't know what you're asking me to do (if anything) - I'm not savvy to these terms.

Marblehead, I'm interested in what you (or anyone else) makes of Moeller's explanation of Zhuangzi's fish trap analogy. (I've posted it earlier on another thread but I'll post it again in case you didn't see it.) Moeller paraphrases the translation as follows.... A fish trap is a means to get hold of fish You can only forget about the fish trap once you've had your fish A rabbit snare is a means to get hold of rabbits You can only forget about the rabbit snare once you've had your rabbit Words are a means to get hold of ideas You can only forget about words once you've had your ideas How could I talk to someone who has forgotten words? (When it comes to two sages having no ideas, they will both have nothing to talk about - commentary by Guo Xiang, circa 300 AD.) According to Moeller "the fishtrap allegory is by no means about how to catch and keep some deep thoughts or ideas [as is the mainstream interpretation]. It is, on the contrary, about getting rid of concepts in order to arrive at perfect Daoist silence. It is about how to become permanently satisfied and to completely eliminate the hunger for the next dish of meaning and language." Leonard Cohen sings "Dance me to the end of love"; Zhuangzi dances me to the end of concepts.

I've read Shanlung's post twice and still have no idea of his position on the topic. Of course, there's no reason why he should have a position, or even write something I find comprehensible. Anyway, making sense is greatly overrated - I know I personally put far too much effort into it. I live surrounded by wildlife and it's obvious the animals have different personalities within the same species. There's an interesting book by Virginia Morell called Animal Wise: The Thoughts and Emotions of Our Fellow Creatures. And yes, an African gray parrot called Alex proved to be pretty smart.

There are two fundamental views on the nature of ‘reality’; namely realism and constructivism. A simple realism argues that reality is as it is and it can be cognised and represented as such. This view underpins the scientific method and obviously has much validity - as, for instance, our technology testifies. On the other hand, a constructivists view of reality posits that ‘reality’ only emerges as a result of construction by an observer. This does not mean that there is no reality, but that it emerges as a reality only when it is observed. From this perspective the assumption that there is such a thing as objective knowledge is flimsy. Commenting on Michael Frayn’s ‘The Human Touch: Our Part in the Creation of a Universe’, John Banville writes “The universe plainly exists independently of human consciousness; but what can ever be said about it that has not been mediated through that consciousness? What can ever be wordlessly seen of it that is not dependent upon the existence of a single viewpoint from which to see it? What can be understood of it without the scale and context of human purposes, or the instruments of human thought?.” I'm no expert on quantum mechanics, but to my mind it seems to exist on the boundary of these two views; namely at this subtle level of 'matter', measurement of 'reality' and construction of 'reality' cannot be separated.

If you want some background on brain hemisphere theory I can recommend Iain McGilchrist’s book. With so much pop psychology and popular misconceptions in this field his book is a worthwhile read. However, with over 500 pages of detailed research findings and nuanced argument , you might wisely reflect that “your life has a limit but knowledge has none. If you use what is limited to pursue what has no limit, you will be in danger. If you understand this and still strive for knowledge, you will be in danger for certain! “ And conceptual knowledge must always be partial. . Fold words into cranes. Knit sound into sequence and hold its shadow up against tomorrow’s blank slate sky. Watch how the dark flutter of notes makes meaning seem bigger than it really is. Watch how night washes time clean. Follow the words to their source and emerge into a clearing of complete emptiness. Become like a child.

Hey! surely all these posts are a product of left-brain consciousness. We need our human minds to function well. It just shouldn't be the master. (I've added a little to my post above to clarify what I meant.)

More complicated, yes. We live in a world dominated by human mind, for sure. But conversely, dealing with difficulty in the midst of our hyper-complex contemporary world is what gives practice real strength. Using right-brain / left-brain terminology as analogous to 'child-like mind' and 'human mind', I like this..... Iain McGilchrist in his brain hemisphere function thesis published as ‘The Master and His Emissary’ writes "In one (right-brain), we experience - the live, complex, embodied, world of individual, always unique beings, forever in flux, a net of interdependencies, forming and reforming wholes, a world with which we are deeply connected. In the other (left-brain) we 'experience' our experience in a special way: a 're-presented' version of it, containing now static, separable, bounded, but essentially fragmented entities, grouped into classes on which predictions can be based......(Right-brain) is the way in which we all experience the world pre-reflectively, before we have had a chance to 'view' it at all.....These are not different ways of thinking about the world: they are different ways of being in the world." Edit: To clarify "Using right-brain / left-brain terminology as analogous to 'child-like mind' and 'human mind'.".... Using this analogy, right-brain function is how we connect with mind of Dao. From a Daoist perspective McGilchrist's title could well be "The Mind of Dao and her Emissary the Human Mind". A child's mind is innately in balance, working as it should with the right- brain function as master. But it's a balance that's easily disturbed. The childlike mind of a sage is likewise in balance - but the harmony has been hard won through long cultivation and is rock solid.

Have you seen the very different interpretation of the lines "Since the Holy Man follows the way of Tao, He is fit to be lord over the functionaries" from the Mawangdui version? I find it much more authentically Daoist. Among all the Daodejing occurrences of pu (uncarved block), chapter 28 is the only case in which the transmitted and Mawangdui excavated versions are significantly different – the transmitted text has an extra grammatical particle zhi 之 "a possessive marker; a 3rd person pronoun" after yong 用 "use; employ". Robert G. Henricks explains this small grammatical change between the standard text saying the sage yong zhi "uses it" and the excavated silk text saying yong "is used". The transmitted version 樸散則為器聖人用之則為官長 "When the uncarved wood is broken up, it is turned into concrete things. But when the sage uses it, he becomes the leading official." should be read 樸散則為器聖人用則為官長 "When uncarved wood is cut up, it's turned into vessels. When the Sage is used, he becomes the Head of Officials." D. C. Lau says the traditional passage "seems to say that when the uncarved block shatters it becomes vessels. A vessel is a specialist who is only fitted to be an official. Hence the sage when he makes use of these vessels becomes the lord over the officials.", but in Mawangdui passage, "The meaning is very different. The uncarved block is a symbol for the sage. Just as the uncarved block becomes vessels when it shatters so does the sage become the chief of the officials when he allows himself to be employed, and just as the uncarved block is ruined when it becomes useful, so does a sage become ruined when he becomes useful." The word qi 器 "vessel; utensil" is translated here as "tools", "concrete things", "vessels", "specialists", and "officials". (edited version of text from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pu_%28Daoism%29)

Tippi Degre, the girl in the clip, said in an interview that she felt totally safe with animals because she could mentally communicate with them. Ah! to have the mind of a child - it's uncommon enough for children to have the mind of a child these days let alone Daoist practitioners. It something that requires long and careful cultivation for an adult. Truly, a Daoist child-like mind is an exceptional achievement.

Liu Yiming works are amongst my Daoist favourites. I haven't read Fabrizio Pregadio's book but for many years Zhang Boduan's (Chang Po-tuan) "Understanding Reality" with a commentary by Liu Yiming as translated by Thomas Cleary was my main reference. The world of Daoist alchemy it opened for me was a revelation. Here's the beginning of a passage that sent shivers up my spine when I first read it.... The tiger leaps, the dragon soars, the wind and the waves are rough. In the correct position in the center is produced the mysterious jewel. Fruit grows on the branches, ripe at the end of the season; how can the child in the belly be any different?

For me the images in this clip showing the meeting and interaction of the child and the leopard are far more symbolic of Daoist cultivation than the monk and the ox of the Ox Herder poem sequence. Like the mind of Dao, the leopard is soft and supple most of the time yet can also be powerfully fierce, dangerous. Unlike the ox its independence means it will never be domesticated and used as a farm work animal. Also the young girl is perfect as a symbol for the Daoist seeker. She spontaneously attracts the leopard through strong De, demonstrating the power of wu wei, rather than the mindful discipline the monk uses to rope the ox. Her bond with the leopard is one of love and respect - they ramble together with no destination so their bond can develop of itself (ziran). Know the male, yet keep to the female: receive the world in your arms. If you receive the world, the Dao will never leave you and you will be like a little child. (Daodejing: Chapter 28) These are but a few of my thoughts on the Daoist symbolism of this short clip. I'm very interested in what other practitioners make of it.

Perhaps ultimately but look how the leopard tries to merge with the child by way of play. How dangerous it looks. The child at a loss as to how to respond to the leopard's massive size and hidden power.