Old River

Does "A = A" in poetry?

“This is how to contemplate our conditioned existence in this fleeting world: Like a tiny drop of dew, or a bubble floating in a stream; Like a flash of lightning in a summer cloud, Or a flickering lamp, an illusion, a phantom, or a dream. So is all conditioned existence to be seen.” ~ The Diamond Sutra

We can't really know for sure-- in order to know we would have to be "outside" of the dream. Perhaps we are all like Zhuangzi's butterfly. However, if we imagined what it would really be like if our experience as if it WERE a dream, there are some interesting implications which serves as an excellent metaphor for nonduality, rather than as myriad reified objects that arise out of an essentialist metaphysics. (Essentialism only "works" in a certain limited context-- the problem with essentialism is the conviction that such a view is the end-all and be-all of reality. It is the error of transposing empiricism (which works great in science) into the metaphysical. This generate a myriad number of problems which I can't even get into here.) But consider this: I think most people have dreamed of family, friends, co-workers, people in the past or even those basic "stock characters" -- and no matter what our interactions are with them in these dreams, none of these "other persons" within the dream are actually "other persons" at all. If your father is, for example, angry with you in a dream, that isn't really your father expressing anger -- it is yourself, the dreamer, who is angry. As a metaphor, this suggests to me that the "self" we believe exists (as an essential, reified, independent object) is actually a distortion of the unified whole-- and only through such a distortion do we make the error of thinking we can have good without bad, or beautiful without ugly, or pleasure without suffering, etc. These distortions then lead us to actions which do inevitably rebound upon us because we AREN'T separate from the whole. Ralph Waldo Emerson's essay "Compensation" serves as the perfect commentary for the second chapter of the Daodejing in this respect. I think this is why stillness of the mind/body (via certain forms of meditation) is vital to "smoothing out" those distortions, so to speak. The less stillness, the more distortion, and the more distortion, the less clarity. Many of our struggles in life are really just struggles with this "self" which believes itself to be "real" -- as a reified, seperate independent being -- which is very similar to how we experience the "self" in dreams. Such meditative practices don't get one out of the unreal and into the real because there is no "outside" at all. There is only experience. Maybe Zhuangzi's point is that it doesn't really matter if reality is "real" or "just a dream" -- in the end, there is only this one experience, the one life we are now living.

.....I’m reluctant to begin because it’s such a long way back to the beginning -- and besides, which beginning? -- there are so many. I moved back to the Nashville area a couple years ago in 2014, which was a traumatic year for me in many respects (my dad's death after a long struggle with cancer, resigning from my job just months before it folded, among other losses). I had lived here before back in 2005-06. I lost a great deal of people and things in my life in 2014, and only this year have I begun to find my feet again, and I’ll finally have a place of my own again (sans roommate!) in mid-June. I was amused to read recently that Annie Dillard has said of herself what I have often said of myself, that I have been “spiritually promiscuous” -- in my case, over the past 20-odd years, but always with reservations with certain religious traditions and philosophies for one reason or another. Whereas previously I saw this as a deficiency in myself, finally I now dispense with this “need” to root myself in any one tradition or a particular philosophical outlook-- rather, I accept the differences and simply take what suits me at a given point in my life. To be sure, this is not to preclude the possibility that having such roots may be beneficial for others-- different personalities are often better suited for different approaches. My own difficulty in the past has been thinking such roots are necessary for myself. Perhaps I am too much the typical INFP. I’ve done a fair amount of exploring in this regard: Christian mysticism (Pseudo-Dionysius, Eckhart), Eastern Orthodoxy, Anglicanism, Quaker tradition, Judaism (Buber, Heschel), Buddhism (primarily Zen, and somewhat deeply involved in it for a few years), Daoist philosophy, existentialism, metaphysical nihilism, Stoicism, Neoplatonism, a variety of other philosophical ideas, etc. It’s tiring just to list them all now! But there are certain things that I always circle back to, feeling most at home with the Daodejing and also 19th century American writers like Emerson, Thoreau, and Whitman (and their few modern inheritors). I see both philosophical Daoism and American transcendentalist literary movement functioning as unintentional commentaries upon one another. At any rate, I have found this “dialogue” fruitful in my own development. For the ancient Chinese, this might not seem so unusual, where Confucianist, Mohist, Daoist, and Buddhist was not strictly segregated in the lives of many individuals (Westerners seem to have more difficulty with such “inconsistencies”). My introduction to the Daodejing (in 1994) came from an unlikely source: an older Greek Orthodox priest who gave me a copy of Stephen Mitchell’s version (severely flawed, but serviceable at least to some degree). The priest and I became friends -- he had actually amassed several dozen English translations of the Daodejing. In terms of praxis, I have carried over my zazen but minus the Buddhist framework which concerns me less (though I still read Dogen from time to time), and the attentiveness which often spills over off the cushion. Though I do not practice Buddhism any longer, it has played a deeply vital role in my own development, beyond a doubt. Going on nature walks I find quite meditative as well. I used to do walking meditation at a local Vietnamese monastery (affiliated with Thich Nhat Hanh)-- not strict kinhin-- but a more relaxed approach characteristic of the Plum Village tradition. But for myself, I think it was less the meditation itself than it was the natural environment which I found conducive to contemplation. I have planned a “retreat for one” in a small cabin in the woods for a week at the end of May-- a little reading and writing, meditating, much walking, and stargazing are on the itinerary. I can never tire of nature's goings-on. I have a natural inclination for living as simply as I am able (many would say “ascetic” though I find it quite pleasing, and in truth it is hardly “ascetic” at all)-- I’ve been attracted to Thoreau’s writings since I was 16. I also wholeheartedly agree with Leon Wieseltier when he writes: “I cannot imagine anything more revolutionary than to slow things down.” Perhaps this has more to do with age, but I enjoy meandering about, preferring things at a much slower pace, ambling and rambling along-- nowhere to go. Perhaps the most meaningful thing about life is precisely in that it is purposeless-- understood this way, such purposelessness is liberating. Rarely do I bother to get out-- for my own amusement, I reversed my welcome mat-- though I do have to go out for work. I often think human civilization (as we know it) is nothing but hubris-- maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. I probably won’t live long enough to find out anyway. Other than rare, limited excursions on the internet, going to work, and rare visits with friends, I’m mostly oblivious to what’s going on in the world. I was once highly political (heavily left-leaning, with some anarchist sympathies), but I’ve happily given up on all of that now. What happens will happen, however good or terrible, regardless of my own thoughts about it. I’ve become something of a “part-time hermit.” My diet was vegetarian for about a year (not too difficult), gradually going vegan. I’ve strayed from vegetarianism, and I am just returning to it. But I keep my eating practices to myself, for myself-- I’m not an “evangelist” about it. I keep a journal (with some inconsistency) which is a part of my “practice” I suppose. Writing out thoughts, whatever they might be, seems to help me to understand that moment for myself more clearly. I have recently returned to an old version of the Daodejing I’ve been working off and on with over the past 15 years. I don’t know classical Chinese, but I’ve found writing your own version is a way to read the Daodejing more closely, and to discover its many inner resonances. I’m happy to have started this up again. One of the things that attracts me to the Daodejing is that it is non-anthropocentric. This is a difficulty I have with many religions and certain philosophies-- humanity is part of the landscape, but there is no “foreground” or “background”-- at best, we participate in a larger whole. I have a peculiar relationship with language and its ability to describe reality. When I first read chapter 1 of the Daodejing, it made immediate sense to me. If we can speak of any "transcendence" at all, it is not really a transcendence of the material world so much as it is a transcendence of our reifying grammar which we superimpose upon the world (and ourselves). Language is far too clumsy to "capture" reality (whatever that is)-- at best it "works" within certain limited contexts. It may be that what we call metaphysics is really just the result of misused grammar. Supernaturalism makes little sense to me—but so does two-dimensional, empirical reductionism (I am not opposed to science per se, but certain assumptions of religion or science being capable of “explaining” the cosmos). I think the common notion of “miracles” is an impoverished one because it excludes so much of what is already before us-- we are swimming in it. We too often (myself included!) fail to recognize how wondrous this debased and slandered material world truly is. Should we be so ungrateful, seeking something "flashier" than what is already present before us? As far as I can see, what is central is not a belief in any particular object (including any god), but rather to allow a certain attentive attitude toward the rising and falling “ten thousand things” as expressions of Dao. What can be more miraculous than this realization? John Cage put it beautifully: “There is poetry as soon as we realize that we possess nothing.” I apologize for all this verbiage, but I think (I hope) it conveys a sense of the person sitting here at the keyboard. I tend to be much more reticent in actual verbal conversation-- written words come more easily for me when I allow myself the time and space to do so.

Sounds wonderful, manitou -- please send it once you are happy with the recording -- I look forward to hearing it!

Dustybeijing, I do wonder if there is a thread here where members have tried their own hand at rendering the Daodejing. It was my Greek Orthodox priest friend who encouraged me to try it out (we co-edited a small local spiritual magazine back in the mid-1990s). It wouldn’t even have to be all 81 chapters-- but I think it is a great way to look closely at the ideas embodied in the text for one’s own understanding -- and then to share them in a thread. After all, the Daodejing is one of the most translated books in the world, so why not add more individualized versions out there? I haven’t seen any thread(s) like that here, but I’ve likely just missed it.

Been in a sentimental mood today, listening to quite a lot of WIlliam Ackerman. A lazy Sunday. This is one of my favorites:

My apologies, manitou, I just nowsaw your response (still getting used to the "View New Content" feature I suppose). The tonal color, even the presence or absence of a sound really does change everything. What you wrote reminded me of what Arvo Part once said: "I have discovered that it is enough when a single note is beautifully played. This one note, or a silent beat, or a moment of silence, comfort me. I work with very few elements — with one voice, with two voices. I build with the most primitive materials — with the triad, with one specific tonality..." I also started off learning piano by ear-- it later posed a problem of unlearning "bad habits" when I later majored in music composition. I never did unlearn the bad habits, but I hardly play music as I once did either. But I've never stopped listening. There is nothing wrong with simplicity-- Erik Satie is a great example of "less is more" in music. The flute is an excellent meditative instrument too. I used to play the shakuhachi, though I no longer have anything now but a guitar that gathers dust...

Sorry, zerostao, I meant to say also that, no I haven't seen the poetry threads except the ongoing haiku. But what would a Daoist forum be without poetry? I'll definitely get a round tuit, I know! Thank you!

I'm finishing David Hinton's wonderful book Hunger Mountain today. Very much my cup of tea! At a slower pace, I'm reading Dante's Divine Comedy in conjunction with some free lectures on the Open Yale Courses website. I'm just about to get out of hell and into purgatory. It's actually quite enjoyable and thought-provoking. And lastly, a biography on Jean Sibelius by Tomi Makela-- it's good for information, but there's something stilted about the writing-- it may be due to the translation?

I personally have not heard it used as often, but the word “cultivated” does also have the usage of someone who is “refined,” “cultured,” belonging typically to the upper class-- but this thought has never crossed my mind until now. I’m with you, I think-- “cultivation” being a collaborative, interdependent sort of activity as opposed to manipulating or forcing a certain situation antagonistically. I think each being has its own natural way of coming into its own, the key is discovering that natural way and nurturing that. Just as certain plants do well with certain amounts of sunlight or warmth, others not so much (personally, I have no green thumb at all, sad to say!). “Cultivation” then is another way of truly caring for the ten thousand things as they are encountered in life-- and is closely related with wu wei. This means having a pre-scription (a solution given in advance) for certain difficulties in life is usually an unhelpful approach. This is why fundamentalist or other strictly ideological approaches inevitably fail-- life is far more fluid than their rigid doctrines can ever account for. Various forms of meditation and other practices to help loosen those unhelpful habits is at the heart of cultivation.

I'm not enamored with Star's translation, but the appendix (what amounts to a simplified lexicon) makes it an invaluable resource.

Hello everyone... I've long had an interest in the Daodejing among many other philosophies and spiritual paths over the past 20 years -- but the wisdom of Laozi and Zhuangzi certainly resonates with me greatly, along with the American transcendentalists (Emerson, Thoreau, Whitman, and others related to that stream). I don't consider myself a "Daoist" per se, but I do drink up what I can and absorb it after my own peculiar fashion. Among many other things, I write poetry, spend much of my time reading literature, listening to classical music (Bach and Sibelius being particular favorites), and I enjoy long nature walks, stargazing, solitude, and tea. I'm not sure how much I may contribute to discussions here, but I thought it might be worthwhile to drop in from time to time and see what happens. Many thanks, Old River

To go to the OP: thank you for sharing your thoughts. This is the sense that I understand it too -- in making distinctions, we can get trapped by them-- and then we don't notice all the miraculous shadings in between. Mistaking our labels for what occurs, we can easily become blind and deaf. It reminds me of this story told by John Cage, here involving three tones in music: I've had this chapter from the Daodejing on my mind too because lately I've been listening to some traditional Finnish music involving a five-string kantele -- you would think, "It's just five notes!" but there is an amazing amount of flowing variety that can come about in the right hands.

I'm not fond of Mitchell either -- however, he was my introduction to the Daodejing some 20-odd years ago, and it only made me want to dig more deeply. As a simple introduction to some general principles, Mitchell's might work temporarily for some newcomers. Maybe. I seem to recall he did say that his is a "version," not an direct "translation" from the Chinese itself. His Rilke is, from what I understand, quite good (a native of Germany I knew once had nothing but high praise for him on that front).

Nice selection. I read Volokhonsky & Pevear's translation of Crime and Punishment a few years ago -- one of my favorite novels (though I don't often read fiction). And Whitman is like scripture to me (I'm not sure if I'm exaggerating when I say that!).

Thank you for the warm welcome, everyone! Brian ("Bwian that is called Bwian"), I did live closer to the Mississippi at one point, though I am in Nashville now. There is another river that is significant to me, but it's far from here, the Heathcote, which was two minutes walking distance from where I lived when I lived in Christchurch, New Zealand at one point. I didn't live there for long, but the time I spent there I still treasure. The river I also have in mind is more metaphorical as well, from Heraclitus to Kamo No Chomei, as an image of impermanence and flux.