Two - Teaching No-Talking
Chapter 2 of the Tao Te Ching begins with an idea that can be found in many traditions and is found in most people’s common sense understanding of the way we consider dyadic relationships between concepts. It has been some time since my own common sense understanding of concepts has been forever replaced by Western philosophical standpoints. I am therefore a poor example of common sense or intuition. But because I have been exposed to the muddled beliefs of college freshman and sophomores for many years, I think I have a general knowledge of those ideas.
Lao Tsu presents us with a short laundry list of dyadic conceptual relationships such as, “All can know good only because there is evil.” I confess that I am sceptical of any principle of nature that can be drawn from the obvious existence of concepts that exhibit dyadic relationships, whether they be antonyms, synonyms, or complements. As my students used to love to argue, the common sense understanding of the dyadic relationship between good and evil is that in order for there to be “good” there must be “evil.” This statement is meant to describe some set of circumstances in the world and not just the obvious conceptual connection between the two. This is the kind of basic “category mistake” that is all too often the norm for unsophisticated thinkers and college
freshman the world over. Suffice to say, I am unimpressed by the argument.
The third paragraph of the chapter, though, holds a great deal of interest for me.
“Therefore the sage goes about doing nothing, teaching no-talking.
The ten thousand things rise and fall without cease,
Creating, yet not possessing,
Working, yet not taking credit,
Work is done, then forgotten,
Therefore it lasts forever.”
There is, I believe, much wisdom in these lines. Here is the Buddhist ethic of practice in one of its earliest forms. I remember Ben Wren’s lecture about this concept. He used to refer to St Therese the Little Flower who wrote that the mundane tasks of daily life, when done with clear attention to the moment, could be a constant prayer in themselves. Lao Tsu sees this truth; when we live purely in the present moment, and do just what it is we are doing, we are closest to the Tao. We are the Tao. I have always felt resistance intellectually to this idea, being drawn, as I have been, to pragmatism in philosophy, in which all things have their meanings as plans for future action. But, nevertheless, I feel in my heart that the truth is closer to Lao Tsu and Therese’s Way of Life than to the American sensibilities of the Pragmatists. This is the Path that I would like to walk.