Day 22: Innocence and the Tao

I’ve been reading more about Taoism, especially passages from the Tao Te Ching. Maybe I’m just a cynical, bitter, and awful person in general, but some of the things I’ve read kind of make me want to strangle somebody.

There seems to be a certain naïveté inherent in Taoism. Of course, I understand that it’s an old religion, and I assume that life was a lot simpler two thousand years ago. I doubt the early Taoists had to worry about the same things we do, like terrorists blowing up our airplanes or collections companies making harassing phone calls if we run up too much credit card debt.

Still, some things in Taoism still strike me as just plain off, no matter what millennium we’re living in. In particular, the Taoist emphasis on innocence has been bothering me.

Taoism repeatedly suggests that we should strive to be like small children, because, as author Deng Ming-Dao puts it, “The young are pure, innocent, tender.”

Seriously? Have you ever met a child? I have. With rare exceptions, most children are deceitful, cruel little monsters who use their cute faces (see photo below) to manipulate everyone and everything around them. I mean, really. I didn’t like children when I was a child, and they sure as hell haven’t improved over time. Insisting that children are excellent role models makes Taoists look not just naïve, but a little bit nuts.

 

Innocence, like that of children (yeah, right), is a major goal of Taoism. But I just don’t see how it’s a good thing, not even—especially not—the way Taoists explain it.

Deng Ming-Dao writes, “Innocence is to be absolutely clean, without the taint of selfishness. Innocence knows no ulterior motives, no lust for immortality, no drive to be extraordinary.”

Just the act of typing those sentences made me cringe. I’m starting to think that Taoism is fundamentally opposed to every core belief I possess, even if I don’t have a religion of my own.

Who wouldn’t want to be immortal—not necessarily literally but at least by doing something great, something that will leave a mark and force people to remember you? Who wouldn’t want to be extraordinary? Isn’t becoming the perfect version of you and doing something worthwhile the whole point of living?

In general, the kind of people who are satisfied with mediocrity are the ones who hold up lines in grocery stores and make traffic run too slowly. They’re the ones who screw up life for those of us who actually have dreams and vision and goals.

And basically, Taoism says that those of us who want to be great people, who want to make the world a better place by doing amazing things, are wrong. I find that insulting and perhaps even immoral.

Taoism isn’t alone in saying that “innocence” is the way to enlightenment, either. Just look at Christianity, for example, with Jesus saying that we should strive to be like children.

Ugh! It’s a repellent idea, if you ask me. Maybe the problem is that, in my mind, innocence is the same thing as stupidity, and I want no part of it.

At this point, I’m just going to try to stay focused for the rest of the month. Taoism is making me crazy angry. I’m starting to wonder if I’m going to have to develop my very own religion after this year is over.

Month 4, Day 19: Taoist Beliefs

Okay, so I’ve been reading everything I can find, trying to get a handle on what exactly Taoism is all about, but it’s not easy to figure out.

Even people who write books about Taoism say we shouldn’t try too hard to define its beliefs. As Brandon Toropov and Chad Hansen write in The Idiot’s Guide to Taoism, “From one point of view, a book about Taoism is unnecessary, and writing one is a violation of Taoism’s spirit.”

Fabulous. So Taoism can’t be explained. I really, really hate that.

Still, some people have tried. Writer Madelyn Hamilton said, “In a nutshell, Taoism is the consolidation of a number of concepts and practices that make up a ‘path,’ or ‘Way,’ of living. The consolidation of ideas and concepts include basic principles of theories regarding the body, diet, breathing and physical exercise, uses of herbs, philosophical inquiry, and, of course, meditation. All of which the Taoist feels brings a human being into close alignment with the ‘natural order’ of life and living.”

Ugh. It always boils down to meditation, doesn’t it? I’m not liking that.

But is there anything about Taoism I do like? The Idiot’s Guide to World Religions lists a few basic Taoist principles:

1. The rejection of calculated, restless, goal-oriented effort.

Ouch. My whole life is pretty much about being restless and, on the rare occasions when I have a little energy, trying to reach goals. It’s not a promising start.

2. Trust in the benefits of effortless, spontaneous action in accordance with the requirements of time.

          

Huh?

3. Belief that the Tao manifests itself everywhere and in all situations.

           

Although it would be nice if someone would more clearly explain, somewhere, anywhere, what the hell the Tao really is, I guess, if I look at it as “the natural order” or even “the great divine,” I can handle this aspect of Taoism.

4. An understanding of the Tao as eternally new, fundamentally creative, and beyond literal expression.

             

This one seems to be the favorite of most Taoist writers. It gives them an easy way out of explaining anything about their beliefs.

5. Emphasis on the importance of balance, especially on that which is communicated between the human realm, heaven, and earth.

             

Ugh. More “balance.” I’m so not good at that.

Where’s the religion for people who don’t want to enjoy nature, or be around other people all that much? Where’s the religion that encourages working too much and sleeping excessively? Where’s my religion?

I think I’m starting to get discouraged.

Month 4, Day 17: The Tao

Most people would probably name one guy—Lao-Tzu, the philosopher credited with writing the Tao Te Ching, the central “scripture” of Taoism—as the founder of the Taoist religious tradition. But scholars debate whether Lao-Tzu was actually just one man, or even whether he was a real person at all. Many believe the Tao Te Ching was really written by several people, and some even say that the “real” founder of Taoism is another philosopher, Chuang-Tzu.

(Just a side note: "Lao-Tzu" is often spelled "Laozi" these days, and "Chuang-Tzu" is sometimes written as "Zhuangzi." Even "Taoism" is often spelled "Daoism" and the title of the book Tao Te Ching is written Daode Jing. Just to be clear, I’m letting you know that I’ll be sticking with the old-fashioned versions. Maybe I’m weird or unwilling to accept change, but I just think the old way looks prettier, for some reason. Maybe it's because I don't like the letter D or the letter Z, and those both seem to be a bit overused in the "newer" Chinese style. I don't know. Let's just accept my quirkiness and move on, okay?)

So, if we ignore the issue of who came up with the idea of Taoism, we’re still left with one big question: What exactly is the Tao?

In all the research I’ve done so far, that seems to be a question that even the most renowned Taoist scholars can’t seem to answer with even a hint of clarity.

The word Tao means “path” or “way,” but it’s used to describe the overall natural order of things, the way the universe works.

The Chinese symbol for the word Tao is an image of a person running along a path. As author Deng Ming-Dao explains in Everyday Tao, “It represents the organic movement of the cosmos as a great, balanced, and dynamic body in motion, just as it represents the path each of us follows through life. Sometimes intellectual definitions of Tao can be challenging. Returning to the image of Tao centers our contemplations.”

I don’t know about you, but I don’t see anything but slashes and squiggles when I look at the symbol for Tao (see the picture below, which at least one book tells me is Tao; for all I know, it could say something vulgar, so if it does, I apologize for being an ignorant American). Of course, I don’t have a whole lot of artistic vision, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. Maybe you’ll see something more than I do in the image.

Anyway, even with help from religious writers like Deng Ming-Dao and Huston Smith, I don’t feel like I’m getting much of an answer to our question.

No matter what I read, I still don’t really understand what the Tao is. And as you may have noticed, I don’t like vagueness or a lack of precision—not in life and especially not in religion. If people can’t even tell me what the hell their main spiritual belief is, how am I supposed to decide if it’s worth following?

Yup. This is going to be a challenge. I'm starting to be very glad that February is a short month.

Month 4, Day 16: Taoism Versus Confucianism

Throughout their history, Taoism and Confucianism have often been viewed as staunch opposing forces. Many Confucians have charged the Taoists with being subversive elements who are trying to undermine the social order with their lack of rigid rules of propriety.

So is it true? Are Taoists a danger to society?

Well, I guess that depends on what you think a perfect society should look like.

Whereas Confucians believe in conformity and etiquette to help reinforce proper social behavior, Taoists believe that the best way to live is to pretty much let life flow over you, being receptive to nature and the world and avoiding any attempt to control or interfere in the way things work.

As writers Brandon Toropov and Father Luke Buckles put it, according to Taoism, “The individual should seek the truth by means of a patient, accepting focus on natural patterns and influences worthy of emulation.”

Basically, Taoism says that nature already gives us all the rules we need, so all the strict hierarchical and behavioral codes of Confucianism are unnecessary, meaningless, and maybe even harmful.

The best way to follow the Taoist path, in an ideal world, would probably be to become a farmer. You’d live close to the land and your life would revolve around nature’s cycles and the changing seasons, unlike the life of the ideal Confucian, who would probably be a highly educated wise person working at the top tiers of government office. That’s a pretty big contrast.

So, do Confucianism and Taoism have anything at all in common?

Surprisingly, they do. For one thing, they both consider the I Ching (Book of Changes) an inspired, if not sacred, piece of literature. (We’ll talk more about the I Ching another day, I promise.)

Confucians and Taoists also both believe that the universe, all of life, everything that exists, is based on the concept of yin and yang (see the photo below).

 

Although most Americans probably know the yin-yang symbol primarily as a popular motif for jewelry, it actually represents the notion that everything is made up of opposing forces that merge to become one.

Religious scholar Huston Smith explains the idea of yin-yang in The World's Religions. He writes: “This polarity sums up all of life’s basic oppositions: good/evil, active/passive, positive/negative, light/dark, summer/winter, male/female. But though the halves are in tension, they are not flatly opposed; they complement and balance each other. Each invades the other’s hemisphere and takes up its abode in the deepest recess of its partner’s domain. And in the end both find themselves resolved by the circle that surrounds them, the Tao in its eternal wholeness.”

So it shouldn’t be too horrible of a transition for me to move from Confucianism to Taoism. At the heart of things, both Confucians and Taoists believe the universe is based on the same idea. The main difference is in how they believe you should live, based on that idea.

I guess I can handle being Taoist. Sure, I may have to give up on my beloved etiquette for a while, but maybe it’ll be a relief to fit in with the rest of you socially lazy people for once (just kidding). 

Month 4, Day 15: Getting Ready for Taoism

I haven’t written in a while, but it’s not just because I’m lazy. Last week, a very close friend of my family passed away.

In times of crisis, like losing a loved one, many people—probably most people, other than atheists—turn to religion for comfort. Because I’ve been knee-deep in Confucianism, however, religion hasn’t been all that helpful to me over the last week.

As we’ve discovered so far this month, Confucianism is all about ritual and propriety. So maybe I would have felt a little better if I could have gone to the funeral and paid my respects in the proper Confucian fashion, but since I’m still in Texas and I’m pretty much broke, there was no way I was making it all the way to New Jersey.

Beyond the propriety of funeral rites, Confucianism doesn’t offer much solace to people in mourning. Sure, we know that Confucius never sang on the same day he cried and that one should never eat too much food when sitting next to a mourner. Beyond that, Confucianism is kind of a bust when it comes to making you feel better about death, whether it’s someone else’s death or your own.

Unlike other religions, such as Christianity, for example, Confucianism has no standard lines to deliver to someone who’s grieving. You can’t say that the person has “gone to a better place,” because the only “place” Confucians really recognize is some vague “Heaven” where the ancestors hang out and try to give us signs to guide us in our own lives. I don’t know, but I don’t find that very comforting.

But there is some good news. As of yesterday, I am no longer Confucian. I am now a Taoist.

So here’s hoping that Taoism will help me come to grips with how sad and grief-stricken I’ve been feeling and move on with my life and this project. I’ve got to say, so far, it doesn’t look promising. But I guess we’ll see.