marthak's review
4.0
Lao Tzu was a Chinese philosopher of the Tao from sometime in the 6th to 4th century. This book is shorter and less well-known than his Tao Te Ching, which I haven't read, but I found this translation very moving and relevant. Lao Tzu's basic idea is that all the rituals and trappings of organized religion aren't the way; instead he says you must strive for uncompromising sincerity and virtue, to treat the people around you unconditionally well. I agree more and less with some of his other ideas, such as: He encourages letting go of dualities such as male and female (gender is fake ;)) good and bad, beautiful and ugly, even letting go of distinctions like the universe is vast and the particles that make it up are tiny; he wants his students to decrease thinking, let go of individuality, pain and happiness; he insists that all the tools you need are already inside you.
A few of my favorite passages:
"If you want to stop being confused, then emulate these ancient folk: join your body, mind, and spirit in all you do. Choose food, clothing, and shelter that accords with nature. Rely on your own body for transportation. Allow your work and your recreation to be one and the same. Do exercise that develops your whole being and not just your body. Listen to music that bridges the three spheres of your being. Choose leaders for their virtue rather than their wealth or power. Serve others and cultivate yourself simultaneously. Understand that true growth comes from meeting and solving the problems of life in a way that is harmonizing to yourself and to others. If you can follow these simple old ways, you will be continually renewed."
And,
"Do you think you can clear your mind by sitting constantly in silent meditation? This makes your mind narrow, not clear. Integral awareness is fluid and adaptable, present in all places and at all times. That is true meditation. Who can attain clarity and simplicity by avoiding the world? The Tao is clear and simple, and it doesn't avoid the world. Why not simply honor your parents, love your children, help your brothers and sisters, be faithful to your friends, care for your mate with devotion, complete your work cooperatively and joyfully, assume responsibility for problems, practice virtue without first demanding it of others, understand the highest truths yet retain an ordinary manner? That would be true clarity, true simplicity, true mastery."
A few of my favorite passages:
"If you want to stop being confused, then emulate these ancient folk: join your body, mind, and spirit in all you do. Choose food, clothing, and shelter that accords with nature. Rely on your own body for transportation. Allow your work and your recreation to be one and the same. Do exercise that develops your whole being and not just your body. Listen to music that bridges the three spheres of your being. Choose leaders for their virtue rather than their wealth or power. Serve others and cultivate yourself simultaneously. Understand that true growth comes from meeting and solving the problems of life in a way that is harmonizing to yourself and to others. If you can follow these simple old ways, you will be continually renewed."
And,
"Do you think you can clear your mind by sitting constantly in silent meditation? This makes your mind narrow, not clear. Integral awareness is fluid and adaptable, present in all places and at all times. That is true meditation. Who can attain clarity and simplicity by avoiding the world? The Tao is clear and simple, and it doesn't avoid the world. Why not simply honor your parents, love your children, help your brothers and sisters, be faithful to your friends, care for your mate with devotion, complete your work cooperatively and joyfully, assume responsibility for problems, practice virtue without first demanding it of others, understand the highest truths yet retain an ordinary manner? That would be true clarity, true simplicity, true mastery."
akemi_666's review
4.0
For the longest period of time, Taoism and Buddhism tripped me up because I confused desire with sensation. For me, their rejection of desire felt like a rejection of materiality. I was very much conflating Taoism and Buddhism with Nietzsche's understanding of Christianity and Liberalism. I believed all forms of spirituality were retreats into abstractions — an unmooring of oneself from facticity.
But I've come to understand Taoism and Buddhism's rejections of desire as the beginning of a movement back into sensation and facticity. Desire — as no-thing, as radical negativity — cannot be conflated with sensation, which is thingliness as consciousness. Rather, desire operates as an idealist otherwise, while sensation operates as a materialist becoming. Sensation is materiality's unfolding experience of itself.
This is the Tao.
If desire is that which generates the dualism of presence and absence, then sensation is that which collapse this dualism back into a polymorphous oneness — a processual infinity beyond symbolic totality.
The Tao is not an entreaty to passivity, but rather a fuller activity. It is the dynamic integration of all aspects of one's lifeworld. Henceforth, those who produce, perpetuate and enforce dualisms of class, race, gender and so on, are enemies of the Tao. Those who profess the naturalness of hierarchies, war, poverty, rape, ennui and anxiety, are enemies of the Tao.
The fear from patriarchy, the lack from capitalism, the shame from colonialism, the conceit from nationalism, the frustration from rationalisation — all these are antithetical to the Tao and all must, therefore, be dismantled.
To return back to our collective sensations, to the full sensorium of relations lived rather than owned — that is the Tao.
The biggest flaw of the text is that it calls for a turn inwards, and only inwards, through which one must dismantle desire. Whilst self-critique and self-compassion are necessary elements to any revolutionary change, I would argue that desire is socially, culturally and politically enforced. Our ways of desiring do not arise fully formed from within — they are molded, diverted, divested, and cathected through institutions such as the family, the police, the military, the workplace, schools, churches, community clubs, news sites, music, films, games, phone apps, and so on.
It is simply not enough, and also too much, to place all the responsibility of discovering the Tao on any one person alone. Rather, our entire environment must be understood, and this requires a necessary dialectic between desires and sensations. Through desires, we can come to understand how our sensations are blocked. Rather than rid ourselves of desires, we have to locate their site of construction. Turning away or inwards is a temporary holding, necessary at times, but inadequate. Only by turning outwards and dismantling the machines that drive our desires in the first place, will be be truly free.
But I've come to understand Taoism and Buddhism's rejections of desire as the beginning of a movement back into sensation and facticity. Desire — as no-thing, as radical negativity — cannot be conflated with sensation, which is thingliness as consciousness. Rather, desire operates as an idealist otherwise, while sensation operates as a materialist becoming. Sensation is materiality's unfolding experience of itself.
This is the Tao.
If desire is that which generates the dualism of presence and absence, then sensation is that which collapse this dualism back into a polymorphous oneness — a processual infinity beyond symbolic totality.
The Tao is not an entreaty to passivity, but rather a fuller activity. It is the dynamic integration of all aspects of one's lifeworld. Henceforth, those who produce, perpetuate and enforce dualisms of class, race, gender and so on, are enemies of the Tao. Those who profess the naturalness of hierarchies, war, poverty, rape, ennui and anxiety, are enemies of the Tao.
The fear from patriarchy, the lack from capitalism, the shame from colonialism, the conceit from nationalism, the frustration from rationalisation — all these are antithetical to the Tao and all must, therefore, be dismantled.
To return back to our collective sensations, to the full sensorium of relations lived rather than owned — that is the Tao.
The biggest flaw of the text is that it calls for a turn inwards, and only inwards, through which one must dismantle desire. Whilst self-critique and self-compassion are necessary elements to any revolutionary change, I would argue that desire is socially, culturally and politically enforced. Our ways of desiring do not arise fully formed from within — they are molded, diverted, divested, and cathected through institutions such as the family, the police, the military, the workplace, schools, churches, community clubs, news sites, music, films, games, phone apps, and so on.
It is simply not enough, and also too much, to place all the responsibility of discovering the Tao on any one person alone. Rather, our entire environment must be understood, and this requires a necessary dialectic between desires and sensations. Through desires, we can come to understand how our sensations are blocked. Rather than rid ourselves of desires, we have to locate their site of construction. Turning away or inwards is a temporary holding, necessary at times, but inadequate. Only by turning outwards and dismantling the machines that drive our desires in the first place, will be be truly free.
narendradityanalwa's review
3.0
The dangers of translation
Much is lost in this calamitous exercise of translating eastern texts into English, chiefly due to the lack of sufficient jargon to express complex spiritual concepts to their fullest meaning. Even while acknowledging the utility of English and appreciating it's global appeal, one cannot fail to notice the gross inability of the language to absorb new words to enrich itself. It simply doesn't render itself useful to a comprehensive treatment of high eastern ideals, most of all Hindu. A cursory glance at the translations of Vedas will suffice to corroborate my argument. Such injustice has been done to the millenias-old sacred Hindu texts in the name of Oriental studies.
Having said that, the philosophical merit of this ancient Taoist work stands out despite all ills of translation.
Much is lost in this calamitous exercise of translating eastern texts into English, chiefly due to the lack of sufficient jargon to express complex spiritual concepts to their fullest meaning. Even while acknowledging the utility of English and appreciating it's global appeal, one cannot fail to notice the gross inability of the language to absorb new words to enrich itself. It simply doesn't render itself useful to a comprehensive treatment of high eastern ideals, most of all Hindu. A cursory glance at the translations of Vedas will suffice to corroborate my argument. Such injustice has been done to the millenias-old sacred Hindu texts in the name of Oriental studies.
Having said that, the philosophical merit of this ancient Taoist work stands out despite all ills of translation.
ange_elish's review
5.0
XXX
“Las palabras nunca pueden portar en sí mismas la belleza de un árbol; para comprenderlo debes verlo con tus propios ojos.
El lenguaje no puede capturar la melodía de una canción; para comprenderla, debes oírla con tus propios oídos.
Lo mismo ocurre con el Tao: la única forma de entenderlo es experimentándolo directamente. La verdad sutil del universo es inexpresable e impensable.
Por ello, las enseñanzas supremas no tienen palabras.
Mis propias palabras no son la medicina sino una receta, no un destino sino un mapa para que lo alcances.
Cuando llegue allí, silencia tu Mente y cierra tu boca.
No analices el Tao. Esfuérzate en cambio por vivirlo: en silencio, sin división, con todo tu armonioso ser.”
Lao Tzu - Hua Hu Ching Enseñanza 30
“Las palabras nunca pueden portar en sí mismas la belleza de un árbol; para comprenderlo debes verlo con tus propios ojos.
El lenguaje no puede capturar la melodía de una canción; para comprenderla, debes oírla con tus propios oídos.
Lo mismo ocurre con el Tao: la única forma de entenderlo es experimentándolo directamente. La verdad sutil del universo es inexpresable e impensable.
Por ello, las enseñanzas supremas no tienen palabras.
Mis propias palabras no son la medicina sino una receta, no un destino sino un mapa para que lo alcances.
Cuando llegue allí, silencia tu Mente y cierra tu boca.
No analices el Tao. Esfuérzate en cambio por vivirlo: en silencio, sin división, con todo tu armonioso ser.”
Lao Tzu - Hua Hu Ching Enseñanza 30
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