Wisdom of the Tao

This week's quote is allegedly by Lao Tse: "In the pursuit of knowledge, something is added every day. During the practice in the Tao, something is dropped every day."

I find that so counter-intuitive. I think I was born curious - I love acquiring new knowledge, discovering new things, having new experiences. So yes, every day, I'm adding something new. Is that really so bad? Then I remembered that bit in Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes stories when Watson tells Sherlock that the earth goes round the sun, and he is annoyed, arguing that there is only so much room for knowledge in one person's brain, and that he chooses to remember only the things which are useful to him in his profession as consulting detective.

And I thought to myself, "Hmm, maybe he has a point." Because much of the knowledge stored in my brain only ever comes in useful on a Monday evening, when we watch Mastermind  and University Challenge. Should I be curating the facts, the knowledge I choose to retain? And how would I do that, anyway?

For us in the West, letting go is one of the hardest things to do. And I believe there is much wisdom to be found in the simple, minimalistic Taoist approach to life. I have blogged about it here. My two favourite books about Taoism are The Tao of Pooh and The Te of Piglet by Benjamin Hoff, in which he uses the characters from Winnie the Pooh to explain the principles of Taoism. 

In Chapter 67 of the Tao Te Ching, Leo Tse explains, "“I have just three things to teach: simplicity, patience, compassion. These three are your greatest treasures – simple in actions and in thoughts, you return to the source of being. Patient with both friends and enemies, you accord with the way things are. Compassionate towards yourself, you reconcile all beings in the world.”

This is a very different approach to life, letting things be as they are, rather than constantly trying to change them, improve them. And alongside this is the principle of Wu Wei, the way of water. As I wrote in my other blogpost, "The trick of Wu Wei is that you don’t try to make things work out; you just let them. And somehow, things just happen in the right way, at the right time. Put another way, Wu Wei is the art of being. It is the art of being in such harmony with the Tao that everything happens as it should – not forced, not sought after, not planned, not bought, not desired – it just happens."

Again, so counter-intuitive. But so very wise.

Life is Enough

Danish author Hans Christian Andersen once wrote, "'Life alone is not enough,' said the butterfly. 'You must also have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower.'"

And I agree with him to a certain extent. The things and experiences we love - sunshine, freedom, a little flower in the butterfly's case - can make all the difference between enjoying our lives and merely existing, dragging ourselves from one day to the next without any moments of transcendence and joy.

Life is a mystery - we have no control over when and how we enter it, nor how or when we will leave it. And, to be honest, we don't actually have that much control over the time in between. All of us grow older, and closer to our final day in this life,  at a rate of 60 minutes an hour, 24 hours a day, and 365 days a year. I was only saying yesterday, "I can't believe it's June already." Because the first five months of the year seem to have simply flown past.

But I recognise that this is a subjective view and that for some people, these last five months will have dragged, seeming to last for an eternity. In fact, all our views are subjective, precisely because each of us inhabits a unique body, each of us perceives the present in a unique way, depending on our past experiences, and our physical, mental and spiritual health. 

I believe that each of us can choose how we respond to the things which happen to us, which can make all the difference. So many things are outside our control (or at least, partly so) - our health, how other people interact with us, the body and mind and spirit we were born with...  There is a fabulous blogpost about this by Lori Deschene, on the Tiny Buddha blog, here. To summarise what she says: we cannot control other people and how they interact with us; the past, the future, outcomes of what we do, how we age, our overall health, that we will get hurt, and the suffering in the world. 

But we CAN control how we respond to all these - which is also explained in the blogpost. It can be quite difficult to choose not to engage negatively with negative experiences, but if we can manage to step back and not allow ourselves to react emotionally, our lives could be much happier. It's a matter of learning to let go of what we can't control and of appreciating the good experiences. Easy to write, difficult to do! But so worth the attempt.

 

Peace Within

 The 19th century Austrian writer, Adalbert Stifter, once wrote, "Only the calm within ourselves lets us drift carefree to new shores."

And I think he's right. Because he included the word "carefree". We are able to drift to new shores under stress (although we may rather be paddling frantically than drifting) but I do agree that in order to be carefree, and to fully open ourselves to the possibility of "new shores", calm within does help. A lot.

Yet it is not so easy to cultivate as it is to write about... Because it involves living in the present, and choosing to let go of perfectionism and joyless striving, and allow ourselves to... yes, drift. Which is not something that comes naturally to many of us (me included!). And if we try to "work at" achieving calm within, guess what? We're doing it wrong... inner calm can only come when we let go of conscious effort and allow ourselves to be at rest. To sit in the silence, to rest our hearts and souls. Being content to let go, to not achieve, to trust.

All these concepts are so foreign to most of us - it seems far more natural to throw our whole selves into the effort of achieving something. Many of us find it difficult to abdicate control, to allow things to turn out as they will, without our volition. But it is surprising that, when we do manage to do this, matters turn out well, as often as not.

Which reminds me of Benjamin Hoff's wonderful book, The Tao of Pooh. In which he explains the principles of Taoism through the characters and actions (or non-actions) or Pooh, Piglet, Tigger, Eeyore, Rabbit and the other inhabitants of A.A. Milne's The World of Pooh. When I began my spiritual journey, I was far more of a Tigger, bouncing around enthusiastically, rushing into things with little reflection, or like Rabbit, who was too clever for his own good. It has taken years and long practice to begin to learn to trust, to let go, like Pooh.

But when I manage it (which is not always) that inner calm does descend, and I am enabled to "drift carefree to new shores." 

Letting Go (reprise)

Ajahn Chah, the Thai Buddhist monk, had some good advice for our times, "If you let go of something, you are a little happier. If you let go of a lot, you are a lot happier. If you let go completely, you are free.

And yes, I am aware of the benefits of letting go of my worries, my to-do lists, and so on. I blogged about it here some time ago. And still find that wonderful Lynn Ungar quote "Gone to the fields to be lovely, be back when I'm through with blooming" both inspirational and aspirational. In this glorious Spring weather we're having, I make a point of walking alone in Salcey Forest each morning, to re-centre my self and ready myself for the day.

But I'm not sure I'll ever attain the true Nirvana which Ajahn Chah is talking about. I'll never be able to "let go completely". And that's okay. Yet being aware of my predilection to get bogged down by "the small stuff" has helped me to let at least some of it go. My daily sitting practice and daily walk both help, but if I have a bad week, and start to feel that rather than waving, I am drowning (thank you, Stevie Smith) I have found two prayers in particular most helpful. One is very well-known; it is by St Teresa of Avila:

Today, may there be peace within.

May I trust God that I am exactly where I am meant to be.

May I not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith.

May I use those gifts that I have received,

and pass on the love that has been given to me.

May I be content knowing I am a child of God.

May this presence settle into my bones,

and allow my soul the freedom

to sing, dance, praise and love.

It is there for each and every one of us.

The other is by Pat Preece, a Unitarian worship leader from the south-east. It reads:

We are blessed to have the habit of prayer.

To know that we can pause.

We can take time to breathe and be still.

The whirlwind of thought

can slow and in that moment

we can loosen tensions

and anxiety.

In the woods of our lives

we can stand and see

the beauty of the trees - 

we can enjoy the shade of the leaves.

And when we have rested,

we can face the world again - 

strengthened in peace

and calm.

Amen

When I read either of these powerful prayers, I can feel my worries slipping away, and a sense of peace invading my soul. Letting go is hard, but it is surely a blessing.

Letting Go

On this day, two short weeks before Christmas, many of us will be feeling stressed out and tired, as we rush around, trying to get everything "just right" for the season. But I'm going to try something else, just for once, and just let go.

It is very easy to spend our lives chasing after the next thing that needs doing, the next goal that presents itself to us, the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. As biological animals, we move forwards through time, and it is natural for us to look to the future. But I am afraid that this is often at the expense of appreciating what we have in the present. This is certainly true in my case. I always have a to-do list on the go, and have to consciously include a weekly half-day Sabbath on it, so that I can let go, and spend some time just being. If I miss that half-day, I am noticeably tenser, and more fratchety.

This is why I adore the words of the poem Camas Lilies by Unitarian Universalist minister Lynn Ungar, which I came across the other day: "What of your rushed and useful life? Imagine setting it all down - papers, plans, appointments, everything - leaving only a note: 'Gone to the fields to be lovely. Be back when I'm through with blooming.'"

"Gone to the fields to be lovely. Be back when I'm through with blooming." Such a fabulous reminder that actually there are other things than the current task, which are just as important, if our lives are to be rich and meaningful, rather than rushed and pressured.

I am slowly coming to recognise that many of the pressures in our lives (certainly many of the  pressures in my life) are self-inflicted. It is my distracted self who chases after material possessions, who needs to be in control, who perpetually worries about the next thing, who strives after perfection, and who finds it hard to let go of old regrets and grievances. I'm doing it all to myself.

I'm beginning to realise that the starting point for breaking out of all this pressure, for getting away from all this self-inflicted stress, is Just Letting Go. Relinquishing control, stepping out of the centre, sitting still, and letting nothing happen. It involves trust - trust that things will work out without my help, trust that God has got my back.

And it's a slow process. I'm sitting for half-an-hour every morning, trying (or not trying) to just be, and trusting that eventually I'll get something out of it. Trying to let go of the need to succeed. Just breathing, and listening to the silence.

Trusting the System

It has been an eventful week! On Wednesday, my children-no-longer-children and I spent the day at Alton Towers, enjoying a last family day out together before they both go off to university this weekend.

And I was persuaded by my daughter to have a go on the new attraction, a fourteen-loop rollercoaster called The Smiler. From the ground it looked terrifying. But, not wanting to appear a wuss, and not wanting to disappoint her, I joined the queue, which lasted for 50 minutes. During that period, I had plenty of time to regret my decision, as we could watch the ride from below, and people were spending a lot of time upside down, from what I could see. My stomach was full of butterflies, and I really wasn't happy.

image: dailymail.co.uk

Then our turn came. The harness was secured and the ride - which lasted nearly three minutes, which is quite long for a rollercoaster - began.

And yes, I was frightened. As we looped over and under, and round and round I had oodles of time to wonder what would happen if something broke. The only thing that got me through without screaming was the mantra "Trust the system." In other words, I realised that at a place like Alton Towers, safety is paramount, and this was a new ride, which would be maintained to the highest standards. And that therefore I was Quite Safe and in No Danger At All.

And the recognition at the end that the fear is generally worse than the reality, and that I had survived.

This recognition is holding me in good stead now, as I help the children to pack their worldly belongings, in preparation for their departures for university - my daughter on Saturday, my son on Sunday - both freshers. I am, of course, thrilled and delighted that both of them have got into their first choice of uni, and am so happy for them as they start a new phase in their lives.

But my goodness, I'm going to miss them. And of course I'm going to worry about them endlessly in the early days. But I'm hanging on to the knowledge that I can only give them two things - roots to grow and wings to fly (to coin a cliché). And that like when I was on the rollercoaster, I need to trust the system, and have faith that their future reality will be life-enhancing and good, and that I will survive missing them, and look forward to them coming home full of stories about their new lives.

And I know that I am so very lucky - I won't be alone - my beloved husband and cat will still be here. My new reality will be quieter, but not lonely. So I give thanks.

Letting Go of Someone You Love

Letting go of someone you love can be the hardest thing in the world. It can be a minor, temporary letting-go, such as a mother does when she drops her 4+ year old child off to school for the first time, a longer-term one, such as a parent dropping their 18 year old off at university, or a permanent one, when you have to come to terms with the death of someone you love.

Yesterday, I had to make the decision to let my beloved 14 year old cat, Bruno, go. He had been diagnosed with liver cancer back in May, and given "weeks" to live, but spent the Summer quite happily poofling around the garden, eating everything in sight and just chilling out. Evenings were spent curled up on my knee, purring. Then two days ago, he became withdrawn, and off his food, and I knew that the time had come to do the right thing, and take him to the vet, so that his suffering would not be prolonged.

my beloved Bruno

I know it was the right thing to do, but it was so hard. But at least society is on my side - putting an animal who has an incurable illness or insufferable pain to sleep is seen as merciful and sensible and correct. Yet if Bruno had been my parent, or my sibling, or my child, or my friend, any attempt on my part to shorten his life would be seen in many circles as "murder" and completely unacceptable. I know that life is sacred, but I truly believe that if a person is incurably ill, and in possession of their senses, and is able to communicate their wishes, they should be allowed to end their lives with dignity, at a time of their choosing. I also believe that if they are physically unable to do this for themselves, then relatives or doctors should not be punished for helping them. Relatives in particular will have to live with their grief for the rest of their lives - why should they be punished further, if that is truly what the ill person wants? Obviously, there have to be rigorous safeguards, so that it is always abundantly clear that the wishes of the ill person are respected, but otherwise I truly do not understand  why putting an animal out of its suffering is "merciful", while doing the same to a person is "unlawful killing".