Taoism is full of subtleties. There are many fine lines that are easy to unwittingly cross. One such example is the difference between harnessing nature on the one hand, and seeking to dominate it on the other. Chapter 64 of the Tao Te Ching, here translated by Derek Lin, ends:
To assist the nature of all things
Without daring to meddle
How does one assist without meddling? Why not just be on the safe side and leave nature alone? The idea that we can leave nature be, even if we want to, is based on the delusional belief that we are somehow separate from it.
But we are part of the inter-connected whole; no more and no less a part of nature as a blade of grass or a distant star. Everything we do and don't do has an effect on the people close to us and our environment.
Even if we choose to walk away from a difficult situation, desirous of not wishing to shape it one way or another, the very act of removing ourselves from the dynamic will alter the outcome.
So the question is not whether we should or should not take an active part in the processes around us, as we have no choice in the matter; but, rather, what the nature of our interactions ought to be.
In one swoop, we take full responsibility for ourselves and what our thoughts, words and deeds can do. Rather than think we can opt out completely, we turn our thoughts to how we can move through life being a positive influence.
What Taoism, especially that of Lao Tzu, teaches us is how to minimise our impact.
Good traveling does not leave tracks
Good speech does not seek faults
Good reckoning does not use counters
Chapter 27 of the Tao Te Ching, again from the Derek Lin translation, above, begins with some very helpful hints about how we might go about our days with the gentleness and grace of a sage.
Just as we would not want to leave a trail of destruction behind us when walking, we do not want to force the evolution of events in such a way as to cause havoc. Look around the world today and you can see the effects of forced change that echo for decades: broken societies, civil wars, displaced populations and terrible suffering. All brought about by an ideology that does not seek to understand the complexities of the situation it is presuming to deal with nor has the foresight to recognise the myriad effects that will follow the causes put in place. This is an example of meddling; of trying to make a flower open sooner than it wants to and wondering why you have a handful of broken petals.
And so it is in our everyday lives. Whether at home or at work we are continuously moving from one dynamic to another and wondering what, if anything, to do for the best. If we can understand the main agents of change from one moment to the next we can manage the situation and guide it towards peace and harmony, quietly and without fuss, leaving no tracks.
Dealing with the disagreements, almost invariably at the heart of all conflicts, without finding fault and countering is very difficult. It requires a lightness of touch that much of our modern culture simply does not normally instill in us. Switch the radio on to a phone-in debate show, or log on to an Internet discussion forum and everyone is at it, including, soon enough, ourselves.
At our most heated, we look for flaws in each other's language as much as in the points being expressed. We leap upon the tiniest slip-up, twist every ambiguous phrase and search online dictionaries for secondary and tertiary meanings for words to our advantage.
But even when calm and reasonable, discussing opposing opinions sees us looking for weakness, contradictions and mistakes in the other person's thoughts and words. Perhaps that cannot be completely helped, and the tone of the debate counts for a great deal. But I find that keeping mindful, not seeking fault and not opposing is a very useful exercise to indulge in and, not least of all, a rather pleasant change.
That is not to replace the testing of our ideas with a sanitised 'everyone is right' attitude, but to explore our own ideas as well as everyone else's in a spirit of inquiry and sharing that benefits everyone. In this atmosphere, new perspectives are welcomed and not repelled and the modifying of one's theories seen as a strengthening of them and not an admission of their original weakness.
We turn away from the desire to force and we learn the value of nurture. We understand how to take what is already there and to coax it and encourage it, whether it be from ourselves or others. Remembering, all the while, that nothing in nature is the finished article. Even the most permanent of objects, such as mountains, are in a continuous state of becoming.
Taking a rock from that mountain and carving a figure from it is not going against nature: we are nature. Using our skills to create art or to fashion a tool or a weapon is where we choose to either assist, meddle or outright oppose. It is where the decision we make, our choice of action backed by an intention, marks the difference between nurture and force; between being humble or arrogant; between leaving no tracks or a trail of unhappiness and suffering.
