/lit/ - Literature

>If there were not (the views of) another, I should not have mine; if there were not I (with my views), his would be uncalled for:-- this is nearly a true statement of the case, but we do not know what it is that makes it be so. It might seem as if there would be a true Governor concerned in it, but we do not find any trace (of his presence and acting). That such an One could act so I believe; but we do not see His form. He has affections, but He has no form. Given the body, with its hundred parts, its nine openings, and its six viscera, all complete in their places, which do I love the most? Do you love them all equally? or do you love some more than others? Is it not the case that they all perform the part of your servants and waiting women? All of them being such, are they not incompetent to rule one another? or do they take it in turns to be now ruler and now servants? There must be a true Ruler (among them) whether by searching you can find out His character or not, there is neither advantage nor hurt, so far as the truth of His operation is concerned. When once we have received the bodily form complete, its parts do not fail to perform their functions till the end comes. In conflict with things or in harmony with them, they pursue their course to the end, with the speed of a galloping horse which cannot be stopped - is it not sad? To be constantly toiling all one's lifetime, without seeing the fruit of one's labour, and to be weary and worn out with his labour, without knowing where he is going to - is it not a deplorable case? Men may say, 'But it is not death;' yet of what advantage is this? When the body is decomposed, the mind will be the same along with it - must not the case be pronounced very deplorable? Is the life of man indeed enveloped in such darkness? Is it I alone to whom it appears so? And does it not appear to be so to other men?

What does /lit/ think about daoism?

The only way to understand the Tao is by taking LSD

>take LSD
>understand the tao te ching after years of trying
finally

I've long suspected that words can do no service to the ineffable. Feelings, insight, and spiritual notions are better left to be experienced, rather than being targeted by the gross inefficiency and loose interpretations of words. However, the Tao Te Ching quite eloquently pins down the ephemeral nature of our collective spirituality in its collection of terse, paradoxical verses. By taking multiple stabs at describing the same experiences (yet through multiple lenses), a hazy vision of the central content begins to appear.

By employing paradox, (e.g. reminders that words cannot describe what I'm currently writing), Lao Tzu highlights the complexity and beauty of a situation where one must simply trust in one's own faculty to come to grips with existence. Thankfully texts like the Tao Te Ching exist (and have for many years); they serve as reminders that there is a shared kernel amongst humankind that has and always will be there. We are together in being alone.

Several times while reading the 'scripture' I gasped at how perfectly it described experiences and sentiments that I've shared in experience. It serves as a perfect guide for accepting to live in the moment, and to be centered in one's disconnected flow of life. Given its brief profundity, yet complexity (one can always explore the depths of its paradox), this will be a text that I shall revisit at regular intervals throughout my life.

Beautiful, contradictory, deeply insightful, enlightening and simply engaging. Thoughts on it?

Because I'm a born again skeptic, I do my best to avoid the obligatory respectful concessions towards mystical texts, especially ones that celebrate the 'wisdom of ancient China' on the cover. I arch an eyebrow at the thought that ancient peoples were in any way privy to profound revelations that have somehow escaped us modern folk, what with our freaky science and all. We do stand both technologically and philosophically on the shoulders of giants, but we must be so careful not to overdo it when trading in tenth-hand manuscripts from the demon haunted world.

The Tao Te Ching is a wonderful collection of ancient poetry, dealing with all manner of subjects from good government to personal happiness. The Way of Life or the Wise Man is one largely based around self denial and the loss of desire, concepts that find little practice in the West. The simplicity is charming, often profound, and its understandable why so many people would resonate with it.

As for myself, it depends which part we're talking about.

The world may be known
Without leaving the house;
The Way may be seen
Apart from the windows.
The further you go,
The less you will know.

Passages like these demonstrate some of the deepest truths about human existence, but of course there's no accounting for bronze-age tyranny.

The ancients who were skilled in the Way
Did not enlighten the people by their rule
But had them ever held in ignorance:
The more the folk know what is going on
The harder it becomes to govern them.

Reveling in something like that is an embrace of evil as profound as anything else you'll read. Still, the one or two exceptions doesn't rule out a collection which may have been written by several hands. I was stirred by many pieces and would not hesitate in recommending this particular mystic text.

Ancient poems contain numerous interesting things, pleasure of silent air; coolness of still water; beauty of trees; perfume of blossom; riches of emotion; and the most important thing, brightness of wisdom. What does appear to the readers depends on their ways of interpretation. It is, in my opinion, the law of philosophy.

Tao Te Ching is not good for ones impatient and unimaginative. Short and complex, but sound-like-mad poems might bore you easily. I don't advise you using it for studying in classes, excepting in the university's, which causes a limitation and boredom. It might be good to read in a day relieved, alone and undisturbed by noise, floating along with words, rhythms and images.

What a core, if it has, idea of Tao is, from my perspective, a nothingness, not an emptiness, of things. World moves, men move, creatures move, everthing is a mixture of each other. Essence is not certain and fixed, movable and unending. Tao is things, in things, but in none. Tao appears everywhere, but appears nowhere. Quite puzzled?!? HA-HA

Anyway, What I said I did not want to confuse you. Reading Tao Te Ching is eye-and-mind opening. You have an opportunity to think something different you never do in your daily life (my friend once said he thought Lao Tzu had been mad, it is very humourous interesting view, you know, it is not wrong that you think he was mad, why was he not able a mad man?). Pleasure you get is telling that life does not simple, it is hard to freeze an explaination in one way. Different aspects of observation evaluate values of democracy and diversity. It also strenghtens mind not being sensitive of difference, such as different clothes, life styles and religions. There is nothing ought to be killed, whether it is bacause for nations, political ideologies, or 'holy guys'. One depends on others. Nothing is simply torn apart. There is black, also is white. Without black, white is impossible. No death. No life. They indentify each others, no one survives without the Other. Two parts in one coin. Nothing except, including kings and monks. It is the law.

“The Tao is always nameless” (Chapter 71)

Trying to narrow down the philosophy of the Tao Te Ching with limiting words is to violate its primordial essence. How can one describe the Universe, the natural order of things, the incessant flowing from being to non-being, the circular unity of a reality traditionally mismatched in dualistic terms?

The Tao Te Ching doesn’t provide answers because there needn’t be questions, just the harmony of moulding to the landscape rather than trying to impose a particular shape on it.
The Tao Te Ching is the route in itself, the path to emptying the human mind of ambitions, schemes and desires and allow it to be flooded with the smoothness of humility and the exhilarating liberation of a simple life.
The Tao Te Ching exults the feminine yin over the masculine yang in the eternal interdependence of opposites, identifying its indwelling suppleness with the intrinsic elements of the Tao.

“The great state should be like a river basin.
The mixing place of the world,
The feminine of the world.
The feminine always overcomes the masculine by its softness
Because softness is lesser.” (Chapter 61)

Thus the Tao cannot be expressed, it has no name, it is indivisible, inaudible and immutable but also the origin of multiplicity that gives way to ambivalent interpretation, which in turn engenders the befuddling suspicion that the more one wants to unravel the Tao the less one masters it because its aim relays precisely in attaining unforced wisdom.

Composed of eighty one aphorisms with aesthetic lyricism reminiscent of ancient riddles or even taunting wordplay, the Tao Te Ching dismisses moral teachings, embraces paradoxical dichotomies and differentiates itself from other doctrines like Confucianism because it relays in intuition rather than in duty rooted on imposed moral principles or any other contrived authority.
According to the introduction (*), some schools of thought have accused the Tao of endorsing chaotic anarchy and of not responding to consistent criteria, but such ambiguity in the use of language and its playful axioms are in fact a pure reflection of its skeptical views on measuring all actions according to artificial rules disguised as traditional rituals.

I can’t claim to have found everlasting serenity in connecting to the natural flow of Taoism and accepting its philosophy of “action through inaction”, but the idea of finding comfort in the constant contradiction of the positive and negative forces within oneself in order to embrace the convoluted intricacies of existence casts an overwhelming shadow to the absolute dichotomies and blind beliefs prompted by the more familiar monotheistic “fear based” religions, where guilt, punishment and suffering are the conduits to salvation.
Why crave for redemption if we learn to follow the “way things are” and welcome the natural interdependence between opposites, accepting disorder, nothingness and non-being as part of the indestructible unity of all things?