The Wisdom of the Tao Te Ching

Introductory Words

The Tao Te Ching (pronounced Dao De Jing) eludes linear analysis. Poetic. Paradoxical. Subtle. Written down in China from roughly 400 BC, the Tao Te Ching could be described as a collection of poetic, philosophical aphorisms. These aphorisms are provocative, terse and incisive, jolting us into awareness. Subtle and profound, they contain so much. Unlike the huge tomes often found in Western philosophy, which reflect a need to conceptualise and think our way to truth, Taoists understood a long time ago that the more you think and talk about truths, the further you get from truths. Taoists understood that the deepest truths are experiential and embodied. Beyond words and concepts. With this awareness, they learned to communicate in such a way - humorously, suggestively and sparingly - that their writing could at least contain a taste of truth.

The master concerns herself with the depths, not the surface.

Taoism is concerned with fundamental ideas, not surface ideas. It is concerned with the ways in which humans think and relate to the world. The way to alleviate our problems is to look deep and to recognise the nuances in every situation. If we fail to do this, we will be caught in an endless cycle of superficial, simplistic thinking and will never get to the source of our discontents. We will be constantly at odds with each other, ourselves and the wider world: If you don’t realise the source, you will stumble in confusion and sorrow.

The Wisdom of the Tao Te Ching

The tao that can be told is not the eternal Tao.

The ground of reality (the Tao), that which is true and eternal, is ineffable. Being ineffable, this ground is beyond conceptual thought. Beyond all mental grasping. But this doesn’t mean we can’t feel and sense it. This doesn’t mean we can’t hint at it poetically. This doesn’t mean we can’t live it. Addressing the limitations of language and conceptual thought seems the perfect way to begin a book concerned with truth. We are being encouraged from the outset to take the rest of the book lightly. To not take it literally and as a final explanation. This is in stark contrast to certain religious texts claiming to be the word of God, dogmatically asserting that they are absolutely truthful. When you fully understand the limitations of language, you cease trying to grasp the world with conceptual thought. You realise that nothing can be totally grasped. One is humbled by this insight, as one realises that one will never know everything in a conscious way. This encourages open-mindedness and humility.

Being and non-being create each other.

It turns out, “to be or not to be?” is not actually the question. In the second verse of the Tao Te Ching, the notion of the inseparability of opposites is addressed. When we understand that opposites co-exist and emerge together, when we learn that we only know what things mean by contrast, then we start to view everything in a more nuanced way. In Chinese culture, the inseparability of opposites is exemplified in the symbol of yin-yang. The yin is the passive, the negative, emptiness, non-being. The yang is the active, the positive, form, being. With yin-yang, it was understood that although opposites are separate on an explicit level, they are simultaneously unified on an implicit level. Similarly, Taoism teaches us that although beings are separate on a superficial level, on a fundamental level we are connected.

What is also notable about the symbol of yin-yang is that the yang contains a little of yin and the yin contains a little of yang. We notice that on the black side there is a white dot and on the white side a black dot. We thus come back to this notion of nuance. This symbol shows us that nothing is totally one thing or another. Nothing is totally black or white. When we truly imbibe this insight, we become less dogmatic and rigid, for we realise that we can never be fully right or correct about something.

The soft overcomes the hard. The gentle overcomes the rigid.

Taoism values gentleness and softness. Even though a sapling is weak, when a storm blows, it is the very weakness of the sapling, its suppleness, that allows it to bend with the wind so that it doesn’t snap. But we should note that it isn’t weak in a passive, limp way but in a springy, lithe way. Thus, Taoism isn’t advising us to be lazy and passive in our thoughts and actions, but to have a kind of flexible receptivity and adaptability.

In contrast to Taoist teachings, our busy, modern world doesn’t encourage weakness and gentleness. It tends to promote force, striving and progression. We must earn money and power to be liked and attractive. We must go to the best University. Get a high-status job. Own the expensive car, go on holiday regularly, wear expensive clothing. Constantly innovate. By striving for progress and growth we’re usually trying to control the world so that it conforms to our narrow, self-interested purposes. This not only creates frustration but, in the long run, leads to harm. For example, in the name of progress and industry humans have been carelessly exploiting nature, on a large scale, for hundreds of years. This large-scale exploitation gives rise to harmful results. For instance, we have been devastating many of the Earth’s biodiverse forests, which negatively affects whole ecosystems, indigenous tribes and the global climate.

The Master acts without doing anything and teaches without saying anything.

One of the most significant ideas in Taoist philosophy is wu-wei: ‘non-action' or ‘not-doing’. It is difficult for us to really understand this notion as Westerners. It seems contradictory. Wu-wei doesn’t describe inertia or laziness. It points to a kind of effortless action. An action without a deliberating, conscious ‘doer’. It is akin to a musician being lost in the flow of their music. It is as though the music plays them or they simply ‘become one’ with what they are doing. There are no clear dividing lines between the musician, the act of playing, and the music itself. When we are in this state of flow, of harmony and alignment, then appropriate actions follow. We will just know what to do. I'm sure most people have been in this state at certain points. This is at least partly why Taoism doesn’t provide moral prescriptions or codes of conduct, unlike Confucianism. Different situations call for different actions. When one is in alignment with the Tao, one will act accordingly. Taoism is based on the view that most people, when aligned with nature, will act in a way which is beneficial.

Rushing into action, you fail. Trying to grasp things, you lose them.

In our modern world we arguably need to do less. Far less. We need to rest. Be still. Observe patiently. Cultivate presence. Once we have dropped in to real presence, appropriate actions will organically follow, and we will also know when to cease such actions. Knowing when to cease and yield, as Taoism teaches, is significant.

Yielding is the way of the Tao.

In our busy, modern societies we often see yielding, ceasing or retreating as cowardly and unadmirable. But, maybe, these things are more significant than action and striving. Maybe it is a sign of deep inner strength to know when to yield and retreat.

When our awareness of the body’s intelligence declines, cleverness and knowledge step forth.

Some tech developers have argued that one day, with the right technology, our minds and personalities can be uploaded to machines. This way of thinking is delusional. The view that our minds and personalities can be disconnected from our bodies is based on the erroneous assumption that who we are is located in our brains. But in fact, all your thoughts and memories, who you are, is the result of your mind and body in constant interaction. In fact, to even talk of the mind and body as though they are separate is nonsensical (unfortunately, our language is limited in this regard). Not only are the mind and body inseparable with regards to each other, they are also inseparable with regards to the wider world. You are an expression of your body and, ultimately, of the cosmos. To denigrate or ignore our intuitive, bodily intelligence is a mistake, for it is in fact far older, vaster and wiser than our conceptual intelligence. This is why machines will never be as intelligent as humans. They will be able to process data faster, but they will not have the intuitive, biological intelligence of an organism who is the result of billions of years of evolution.

The simplest pattern is the clearest. Content with an ordinary life, you can show people the way back to their own nature.

Changing our mindset so that we are more aligned with the Tao is arguably more admirable than busying ourselves trying to push forward and form solutions. In our modern societies we often revere innovative, industrious types. But just because someone is hyper-productive doesn’t necessarily mean they are having a beneficial impact. It could be that someone who doesn’t exhaust themselves by working all the time, but who truly embodies humility and love, is having a more significant and beneficial influence than those who are busy and industrious. Major tech developers, for example, are often revered for being productive, innovative and hard-working. But here’s some controversial questions, what if our world needs less innovation, less progress, less people exhausting themselves? What if we need more stillness, patience and wisdom?

Throw away morality and justice, and people will do the right thing.

Even if we’re convinced that we’re “right” and that people ought to be doing a particular thing or thinking a particular way, the more we try to enforce morality, the more division and animosity we create. As is often said “the road to hell is paved with good intentions”. But the less we force things, the less we exert control, the better things will become. To me, this doesn’t mean that Taoists aren’t concerned with goodness and compassion. On the contrary. It shows that, paradoxically, the more you try to be good, the less good you are. The way to maximise goodness and compassion, the way to genuinely benefit the world, is to not force things into being.

The ancient Masters didn’t try to educate people, but kindly taught them to not know.

Taoism talks about the value of humility, of recognising that what we don’t know is so much vaster than what we do know. When we recognise this, we become open-minded and curious. When people think that they know, are adamant and rigid that they know, they become stiff and combative. This is the same for people who think that they are morally in the right. They become divided from others and feel they have the right to censor those they disagree with. We see this a lot in online discourse. Those in positions of material power benefit from and encourage this combative, divisive world, as the population is too busy arguing amongst themselves instead of employing calm, critical thinking to the underlying issues we face as globalised societies.

In the pursuit of knowledge, every day something is added. In the practice of the Tao, every day something is dropped.

Taoism advises us to look at things more simply. In this sense, it seems to challenge the conceited academic types or those who intellectually show off. It challenges academics who are superficially clever but lack wisdom. Cleverness without wisdom can be dangerous. Someone can be eloquent, convincing and well-read but, without wisdom, they can be totally misguided and can lead their admirers to harmful views and actions. Beware cleverness, charm and eloquence.

The Tao flows through all things, inside and outside, and returns to the origin of all things.

The Tao could be seen as a cosmic intelligence animating the entirety of the phenomenal world. After the European enlightenment, many of us no longer feel that there is an ineffable, intelligent presence suffusing existence, something that could be called sacred. When we hear words like sacred or divine, many now think of organised religion and are understandably put off. But for me, it is beneficial to recognise that behind the appearances of the phenomenal world, there is a common source, a universal wellspring. There is unity within multiplicity. Mystery within manifestation. There is an intelligent force which can never be conceptually understood, can never be explained in a linear, rational way, but can be felt in our bodies. When this mysterious, ineffable presence is felt, we remember that we belong to the universe and that, underneath the apparent separateness of things in the world, everything is connected.

The Tao gives birth to all beings,

nourishes them, maintains them,

cares for them, comforts them, protects them,

takes them back to itself,

birthing without possessing,

acting without expecting,

guiding without interfering

This description of the Tao isn’t saying that the universe is random and accidental. It also isn’t saying that there is a celestial being who created the universe. The Tao is something that not only gives rise to and breaks down phenomena, but guides and nourishes them. When we view the whole of nature as intelligent and sacred, perhaps even conscious to some degree, we are less inclined to abuse it.

As it acts in the world, the Tao

is like the bending of a bow.

The top is bent downward;

the bottom is bent up.

It adjusts excess and deficiency so that there is perfect balance.

It takes from what is too much and gives to what is not enough

If one part of a bow is weaker or more rigid, if tension isn’t distributed with balance, it will soon snap. Similarly, those aligned with the Tao act with an unwavering sense of fairness and balance. However, the world we live in today does not encourage fairness and balance. The economic system dominant in our globalised Western world, neoliberalism, encourages and promotes greed. This system supports extreme financial disparities, so that a select few have amassed obscene amounts of money and power, whereas the majority have very little money and struggle to get by from month to month. We are conditioned to think that such extreme financial disparities are normal and can’t be changed. We are also wrongly conditioned to believe that those with most money and power are in such positions as they are more talented and hard-working. This system is not balanced, fair, or aligned with nature.

When rich speculators prosper

while farmers lose their land;

when government officials spend money

on weapons instead of cures;

when the upper class is extravagant and irresponsible

while the poor have nowhere to turn -

all this is robbery and chaos

In the above passage we learn that an extravagant upper class, and a government more concerned with amassing weapons than helping their own people, are signs of degradation. This is a result of thinking in an egoic, self-interested way. Perhaps we should look at governments in the world today who have bloated military budgets and beg the question, is this a sign of a caring, beneficial government?

Fill your bowl to the brim

and it will spill.

Keep sharpening your knife

and it will blunt.

Chase after money and security

and your heart will never unclench.

Care about other people’s approval

and you will be their prisoner

When we are chasing after the next pleasure, when we keep seeking money and power - contentment and peace will never be found. Sadly, our modern societies actively encourage this human impulse for “more”. In neoliberal societies, we are encouraged to consume products unnecessarily, even if this means a continued decimation of the natural world. We are conditioned to feel that we are inadequate and not enough, that we need to buy things to find worth and respect. We don’t live in a culture which teaches us to feel lasting fulfilment, as presumably this sense of fulfilment isn’t good for profits. We are distracted by advertising and pleasures of all kinds. We aren’t encouraged to exercise presence and critical thinking. In our modern world, we are so blinded by greed that our planet has primarily become a resource for extractive capitalism.

Closing Words

The Tao Te Ching offers a simple yet profound wisdom. It is not to be interpreted as a set of moral instructions or code of conduct – to do so would negate the very essence of its teachings. The Tao Te Ching warns against all forms of dogmatism and control. It can never be truly “summed up”, but what I take from it above most things is that the less we try to control the world, the less problems we will create. The less we deliberately do, the more we will get done: The master does nothing yet nothing remains undone. Superficial minds might think that Taoism advocates passivity and laziness, but the Tao Te Ching doesn’t worry about ardently convincing people. When people are ready, they’ll understand.

Every time I pick up the Tao Te Ching I find something new. Even if it’s a passage I’ve read 100 times before. I might look at it from a slightly different angle. It might illuminate a problem I’d recently been thinking about. I could probably keep writing about this text ad infinitum. Perhaps I’ll write more about it in the future, we’ll see. Or perhaps I’ll learn to live the wisdom more. Perhaps the words and ideas will seep ever deeper into my being. Perhaps I’ll learn to let go of words altogether.

If you want to be given everything, give everything up.