Old River

An old Zen story: Sekkyo said to one of his monks, "Can you get hold of Emptiness?" "I'll try," said the monk, and he cupped his hand in the air. "That's not very good," said Sekkyo. "You haven't got anything in there!" "Well, master," said the monk, "please show me a better way." Thereupon Sekkyo seized the monk's nose and gave it a great yank. "Ouch!" yelled the monk. "You hurt me!" "That's the way to get hold of Emptiness!" said Sekkyo.

Sounds like a good representative sampling of his best work. I hope you get something of value from it!

"I will take with me the emptiness of my hands What you do not have you find everywhere" ~ W.S. Merwin, from "Provision"

Pardon my etymological geekiness: Funny, this word "virtue" in English. It comes from the Latin virtus which is related to the Latin vir, meaning "man." The word literally mean "manliness" in the sense of "strength." The word also was the Latin translation of the Greek word arete, meaning "excellence." The word arete was a key word in Stoicism (which has nothing to do with the modern usage of the word any more than Epicurean, Skeptic or Cynic meant in the ancient world), and via Cicero, and then Seneca, the Latin word virtus came to mean not strength on the battlefield, instead signifying inner strength. This is why Arthur Waley, for example, translates De as "power." There is an older connection between "virtue," "power," and "integrity" that is largely lost today (the word "virtue" often seems to imply a kind of Victorian prudishness nowadays, sadly). There really isn't any decent word in English to use for De, and so it can be easily misleading. Ok, all that aside... I don't have my Red Pine DDJ translation handy, but his books has several glosses for each chapter from other Chinese commentators-- and its very helpful. Understood ontologically, if Dao is the emptiness (latency) out of which the ten thousand things arise, De is the power of Dao manifesting itself in the world when the (fixed, limited) self gets out of the way. De flows through the sage via wu wei. In other words, De is Dao actualized. De is the integral link between the sage and Dao. In more concrete terms, take a violinist who knows her instrument so well that she has internalized all the techniques to the point that she is no longer aware of them as techniques. She does not try to play, she just plays, and the melody comes effortlessly, spontaneously, without forethought or self-consciousness. There is no longer a limited self playing the violin, rather musician and violin are no longer distinct. This moment, as it occurs, is De.

I'm happy to see other readers of old Ralph, Henry, and Walt. Nikolai1, I'm with you on the Emerson essays you've mentioned, and would also add these: "Compensation" (which really illustrates the principle at work in DDJ chapter 2), and also "Circles." And Thoreau is great too -- many people miss his dry sense of humor in Walden, and mistake him for a mere crank. This is not the case however. There is a slim volume, called The Heart of Thoreau's Journals which is a great way of first exploring him. Incidentally, 9thousandthings, they were familiar with some eastern thought: the Bhagavad Gita was a favorite text of all three, and they also had familiarity with the Upanishads and (I believe) the Dhammapada. I don't think they were familiar with the Dao De Jing or Zhuangzi (not sure what, if any, English translations existed then). One of the reasons I value these writers (and those who were later influenced by them one way or another, such as John Muir, Robinson Jeffers, W.S. Merwin, Mary Oliver, and Annie DIllard) is the similarities and overlapping with some Daoist thought. To be sure, there are differences as well (certainly the "flavor" of the writings), but I like how they reached some similar thoughts independent of Daoism (at least in any direct way), and how they can shed a different perspective on Daoist thought. I love discovering such hidden connections like this, and to me there is a great deal of resonance with the Transcendentalists.

Oh my! I haven't seen Ivan's Childhood in a few years (my favorite Tarkovsky film). Thank you!

I love this! Thank you.

If the Buddha said "Be a lamp unto yourself," then it is also true to say "Don't be a lamp unto others" -- that is to say, I practice what I must, you practice what you must, right? And besides, to what extent do we take vegetarianism or veganism? To be really consistent, shouldn't I not only eat non-meat/non-dairy, etc., but also make sure that all the people involved in the farming, the delivery, the grocery store, etc.? Just where do we draw the line for such dietary purity? This doesn't mean therefore it shouldn't matter-- but the point is or each individual to decide what is suitable at a given point in their practice. If one of the reasons is a moral basis, then all one can do is try, within pragmatic limits, to minimize the impact on others. Once it becomes an issue of moral purity, it gets absurd, psychologically unhealthy, and also just plain unpleasant. At any rate, I did go by a vegetarian diet for a year -- this wasn't too difficult since I don't eat too much meat anyway, so I felt I was already partially there (at least this is how I framed it in my mind, and it seemed to make the transition easier for me). I did primarily do it for moral reasons, but on my own. It was a private matter for myself alone (as a part of my Buddhist practice) but certainly wasn't aiming for purism, merely a modest reduction in suffering in a world of mass production and mass consumption. It was hardly a burden to me, so why not? I also went almost entirely sugar-free too, going through withdrawal symptoms after a month (which lasted a month too) where I felt so tired and easily exhausted. After pushing through that, I felt much better, more energetic, and felt less need to eat. I think doing without sugar had more of a physiological impact than going vegetarian. Afrer several months, that same year, I went vegan, which was far more difficult -- and it was expensive (is it any wonder that vegans tend to be more affluent?). I think I managed that for about two months. I do think I felt a lightness, and perhaps it helped my meditation more at the time as well. That was in 2013 -- in early 2014, my whole life turned to total chaos for multiple reasons-- first my dad's death after a long struggle with cancer, and a lot more followed immeditately afterward, including some financial difficulties. Since then, I haven't been vegetarian or vegan. In mid-June, I'm finally moving into my own place -- with no roommate (truly, we're the odd couple, and I'm Felix!), and I'm finally getting my life back into some semblance of order again, including financially. Come July, I'm resolved to return to some lifestyle choices I made in 2013 -- going vegetarian again for sure, and eventually trying to go vegan again too.

I don't want to play up too much a kind of eastern vs. western thinking, but I do think it is interesting that classical Chinese has a very fluid grammar, whereas Greek and Latin are very thoroughly declined languages (modern English is not quite as complicated grammatically, but some inflections still carry over). The problem lies not in language itself, but rather our common lack of awareness that language only approximates our experience of reality -- we confuse the map for the territory itself. I think chapter 1 of the Dao De Jing attempts to shed some light on this distinction: "The nameless is the beginning of heaven and Earth. The named is the mother of the ten thousand things. Ever desireless, one can see the mystery. Ever desiring, one sees the manifestations." (Feng/English translation) One of the greatest problems with language lies in the grammar, how we carve up a whole reality (the "uncarved block") into various aspects -- nouns and verbs (space and time), the implied essentialism of "is" verb forms (and its accompanying "God's eye" view), spatial and temporal qualities (adjectives and adverbs), etc. The grammatical structures have a far greater impact on our implicit and explicit metaphysical views that we realize. Words may label things, but grammar indicates the inter-relationships between those labels. And this seeps into all of our daily perceptions and interactions. The experiment in writing and speaking in E-Prime I did was interesting because all the grammatical structures I took for granted all of a sudden was something I became very conscious of and how it had quite an impact on my perceptions and judgments of situations, and E-Prime created an eventual shift in perspective.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h3ZvVXMpH14 About to put on Sibelius' 7th symphony... Vanska conducting... and then to bed.

“The little word is has its tragedies; it marries and identifies different things with the greatest innocence; and yet no two are ever identical, and if therein lies the charm of wedding them and calling them one, therein too lies the danger. Whenever I use the word is, except in the sheerest tautology, I deeply misuse it; and when I discover my error, the world seems to fall asunder, and the members of of my family no longer know one another.” ~ George Santayana

For years I have held a fascination with a subset of English called "E-Prime" in which the speaker avoids using linking verbs such as "am," "is," "was," "were," "be," being," and "been." For the most part, we can avoid these words which too often create needless metaphysical, epistemological, and ethical confusion (especially in terms of identity and predication). I've experimented with writing in E-Prime in the past, which took some practice. A couple years ago I even tried -- only for a couple months -- to speak in E-Prime as well, which I had a very difficult time doing! I kept running up against "grammatical walls" so to speak, and had to retrace my steps often. I rarely write in E-Prime these days, though I'd like to do so again. So far, I have kept my version of the Dao De Jing in the parameters of E-Prime -- so far! E-Prime eliminates the grammatical fiction of identity and predication which often causes more harm than good. We cannot say or think certain things in E-Prime, and in this respect I think it can bring a great deal of clarity to daily and philosophical discourse. You can check out this link to read more about E-Prime and its fascinating implications: http://www.nobeliefs.com/eprime.htm (incidentally, I have written this entire post in E-Prime...)

Trust (and LOTS of it! ^ ^ ^ )

We Make Our Vows Together with All Beings Eating a sandwich At work in the woods, As a doe nibbles buckbrush in snow Watching each other, chewing together. A Bomber from Beale over the clouds, Fills the sky with a roar. She lifts head, listens, Waits till the sound has gone by. So do I. ~ Gary Snyder

Unburdened

Blue Eyed Snake - re: Canto Ostinato actually no - but I do now! - thank you... Karl - yes, I do like Basinski's work. I only discovered him last year. I go through cycles (no pun intended) in my listening habits -- I must be back in that strange experimental / minimalist / drone / soundscape zone again, where overall texture and color is the main feature rather than the traditional elements of melody, harmonic progression, and rhythm. I listen to classical at least 75% of the time, but these musical detours also fascinate me.

This problem today isn't left or right per se, but the industrial world which has led to these historic-specific conflicts-- in which case nationalism is only another symptom of the same dis-ease. If anything, the DDJ idealizes a kind of anarchism (ala Kropotkin), with the abolition of the state as we normally understand it in both left and right terms, in which the usual power stuctures are flattened out, so to speak. Not likely to actually happen however.

Glad you like it, Blue Eyed Snake! Robinson Jeffers is one of my favorite poets. I like him for his uncompromising, non-anthropocentric vision that runs throughout his work. He's still overlooked and underrated (and still somewhat controversial) figure in literary circles today. You might be able to find an anthology of his shorter poems, called Hawk and Rock, edited by Robert Hass. A few other anthologies of his shorter works are out there too.

FIRE ON THE HILLS The deer were bounding like blown leaves Under the smoke in front the roaring wave of the brush-fire; I thought of the smaller lives that were caught. Beauty is not always lovely; the fire was beautiful, the terror Of the deer was beautiful; and when I returned Down the back slopes after the fire had gone by, an eagle Was perched on the jag of a burnt pine, Insolent and gorged, cloaked in the folded storms of his shoulders He had come from far off for the good hunting With fire for his beater to drive the game; the sky was merciless Blue, and the hills merciless black, The sombre-feathered great bird sleepily merciless between them. I thought, painfully, but the whole mind, The destruction that brings an eagle from heaven is better than men. ~ Robinson Jeffers

Amazed at this Harold Budd album -- no effects, just piano: I'm often fascinated with music that sounds so close to disintegration that it almost isn't music anymore. I know this isn't most people's cup of tea, but I find these silences spellbinding.

Dao can't be "violated" -- it isn't like a god with a list of commandments that can be violated. Sin and guilt don't play a role in Daoism, so I wouldn't worry about it -- certainly not in the way you're framing it. Exercise and martial arts play a big role in much Daoist practice. These exercises operate on a different principle (i.e. not brute strength), but I don't think there is anything "wrong" in itself with lifting weights.

"What intelligent person can imagine that there was a first 'day,' then a second and a third 'day'—evening and morning—without the sun, the moon, and the stars? And that the first 'day'—if it makes sense to call it such—existed even without a sky? Who is foolish enough to believe that, like a human gardener, God planted a garden in Eden in the East and placed in it a tree of life, visible and physical, so that by biting into its fruit one would obtain life? And that by eating from another tree, one would come to know good and evil? And when it is said that God walked in the garden in the evening and that Adam hid himself behind a tree, I cannot imagine that anyone will doubt that these details point symbolically to spiritual meanings, by using an historical narrative which did not literally happen." ~ Origen (c. 184-285 CE), De Principiis In a similar way, Augustine (354-430 CE) didn't think of the creation story in Genesis as a literal six day creation (if you think Richard Dawkins sounds harsh, read what Augustine had to say about Christians who believed in a literal six day creation!). Such 'creationist' thinking really didn't predominate Christian thought until the 19th century when it felt threatened by what the empirical sciences were discovering (fundamentalism always thrives in periods of fear and perceived unrest). Prior to all that, the creation story was thought more like Aesop's fables -- the stories aren't true insofar as lions, tortoises, hares, and crows don't talk -- yet they do contain truths. But the truth isn't that animals can talk! The bottom line is rather pathetic: Religious fundamentalists simply have poor reading comprehension skillz. Add to that the foisting of all kinds of anachronisms on the Bible, and it all turns to a muddled mess. There's a long history of metaphysical truths and empirical truths splitting from one another and then entering into conflict with one another in the intellectual hsitory of the west. The Reformation only complicated matters, as well as the politics involved. It didn't have to be that way, but Christianity ironically lost faith in itself, carrying the seeds of its own decline.

It's a good question to ask. Practically speaking, we always have SOME kind of goals-- no matter how trivial or how ambitious. I think what the problem really is here is that "goals" and "attachment to the outcome" are thought of as if they were synonymous. They usually are synonymous, of course-- because its a habit we grow into at an early stage in life. But it is possible to have goals without being attached to them. One way you know it is an "attachment" in this sense is this: if you get upset, angry, or sad about when a goal isn't met. We associate these negative feelings with failure instead of accepting it for what is simply is: a goal not being met. It is a fact, not a judgment. The negative feelings are something "extra" added to the failure that isn't necessary. It just clouds up our minds even more. Unlearn those habits over time and you'll discover you can set goals -- but without those attachments. Sitting meditation is one helpful way to train yourself to observe your mind. There are a variety of ways, but they all take time-- it certainly doesn't happen overnight. Here's Zhuangzi (in Thomas Merton's rendering) which illustrates the distinction between goal and attachment in the context of Daoism: [emphasis mine]

This is certainly a criticism to bring up. Here's just my own thoughts on that... The word "mystical" is one of those words that unfortunately covers such a broad range that it almost always requires some kind of clarification, from the "rational mysticism" of Nagarjuna to the wild visions of Hildegard von Bingen. I'm not opposed to the word "mysticism" myself per se, but I generally don't like to use the word myself for its ambiguity (for similar reasons, I usually don't use the word "spiritual"). Personally I prefer the word "ontological" instead (which, incidentally Hinton does as well)-- which centers around (ontological) Being rather than (empirical) beings-- this is, as you clarify "not apparent to the senses nor obvious to the intelligence ; beyond ordinary understanding." So (as I see it), "ontological" and "mystical" are largely synonymous. "Ontological" is an imperfect word also, for a different reason: First, "ontological" is such a horribly clumsy word, but, more importantly, it tends to overshadow the vital experiential aspect which is central to "mysticism." But all this is to say, I do get where you're coming from. Words are just such bloody clumsy, blocky things-- especially when it comes to any metaphysical issues. All that said, I do think McKibben is mistaken in speaking of Hinton's book as antithetical to mysticism. Hinton is dealing with ontology throughout the book, which does mean he is dealing with what could very well be called "the mystical." The book has much in common with Emerson and Thoreau, who also saw nature as being fully imbued with that sense of the numinous-- an emphasis on immanence of "the divine" (so to speak) IN the whole of nature rather than apart from it or "beyond" it. "Mysticism" need not always be tied to the "supernatural" in this respect, and I feel this is where Hinton is coming from. For these reasons, I think it's largely a semantic issue myself. (and besides, I really hate those endorsement blurbs on books anyway! lol)

To answer a 1+ year old OP as as briefly (!) as I can: I've played on both sides of the fence. I first came to Daoism (as a philosophy) via the Dao De Jing in the mid-1990s, and somewhere along the line picked up a few things on the periphery of Ch'an/Zen Buddhism. In my own experience, when I was younger, the Dao De Jing and Zhuangzi interested me greatly, but meditation wasn't something I was ready for I suppose. So I found no way of integrating the Daoism in any meaningful way. There were a variety of other detours I took all along the way for years. Many years later (around 2010) I practiced Ch'an/Zen Buddhism (Soto Zen and Vietnamese Thien). Ch'an especially appealed to me precisely because of its close relationship to Daoism, so no surprise there. Prior to this time, I really didn't know a great deal about Buddhism except certain misconceptions which I finally saw through (the nihilistic misconception via Schopenhauer, and then the antinomian streak with the Beats). So I practiced Buddhism for about three years, involved with a local Vietnamese monastery for about a year and got saw Thich Nhat Hanh speak at a retreat in 2013. In my experience with Buddhism, I had a greater appreciation for meditation and ritual. All this seemed much more *concrete* to me -- I don't regret a single minute of that time in my life. But after 2014, I stopped practicing in any formal sense, and felt the need to start over with everything in my life. 2014 was a disastrous year for me for a number of reasons. So, after reading a vast array of philosophy and religion for over 20 years, I began streamlining those things that are essential to me and re-prioritizing all of it in a way that works best for myself. I suppose there is some degree of pragmatism in my approach. I do not consider myself a "Daoist" per se, but someone with a strong sympathy for the Dao De Jing and the Zhuangzi. But I see Daoism with different eyes now-- and it speaks more deeply to me than it did before-- it exemplifies for me a life of simplicity. Looking back on my time with Buddhism, there was a complexity to Buddhism that made perfect sense to me, but at the same time I found it all very tiresome: the four this, the eight that, the three this, the five that. I understood the significance of it all, but I was tired of all this counting! lol I do not mean to disparage Buddhism, which I still respect greatly-- I am only speaking of my own relationship with it. I simply found it was no longer my cup of tea. I am certainly grateful for what I was taught by the monastics, teachers, and fellow students. There are varieties of Daoism and Buddhism (and other ways of life) which are best suited to help one flourish in life (to put it as broadly as possible). As I have simplified my life over the years more and more, I feel lighter somehow. Oh, I certainly do still delve into philosophical questions, but its more on my own terms now, and my own experience (often, though not always, tending toward philosophical quietism in a roundabout way). I feel I've been going through a slow transformation (a new stage in life perhaps, partly brought on by age as well I'm sure) into a way of life that is more appreciative of my solitude, walks in nature, meditation but really "just sitting" without the Zen Buddhist framework-- just dropping a lot more internal baggage and feeling more at home with myself and the world. I'm not too interested in consistency anymore -- when it comes to the things that are most meaningful, life isn't always consistent anyway, like old Walt said: Do I contradict myself? Very well then I contradict myself, (I am large, I contain multitudes.)