“Words, words, words,” is often the lament of Taoists in the West who, when coming across a discussion of some aspect of Tao, shake their heads and tell us that the sages knew better.
It is true that the sages were careful with words. But then they were careful with knives, too: that doesn’t mean they never used knives; it’s just that they never picked them from their pointy ends.
As with knives, they treated words with respect. They understood that, handled with skill, they could be very useful. They understood, too, that used clumsily, they could do a great deal of harm.
Something else the use of words has in common with knives is that both must be kept sharp.
I am trained as a bespoke tailor. It was very easy for me to spot fabric that had been cut with a pair of blunt scissors as the edge would be frayed and jagged. A pair of sharp scissors will always make for a razor-sharp edge. Likewise, I am able to deduce from my writing if my thoughts are clear or if they are an unordered mess.
Clear, simple words reveal that my understanding of the matter is well-honed. However, long, rambling sentences, ambiguous phrases, mixed or dead metaphors all lead me to realise that I need to work on my thoughts some more.
Politicians, far from slipping accidentally into a form of speech that is muddled and essentially meaningless, have turned it into an art form. They often speak in non-sequiturs that sound impressive at the time but, when analysed later, turn out to mean nothing. They use words and phrases that are deliberately ambiguous. When a world leader speaks of the ‘Fight for Freedom’ who cannot possibly nod in approval? But put ten people in a room and you will find twenty differing opinions on what freedom actually means; and what does it mean to fight for it? Are we required to commit to a moral struggle; or must we drop bombs on anyone who has different ideas?
Such definitions are important because when policy is formed and it is applied, what precisely is meant by ‘fight’ and ‘freedom’ can be the difference between armed conflict on the one hand and diplomacy on the other.
When discussing Tao, the same pitfalls await. A common one is the mystifying of that which is perfectly clear. A photograph of a river can only represent the river as it was in that instant but not the instants that follow. That does not mean the river is shrouded in mystery. Nor does it mean we ought to warn each other, in hushed tones, to never speak of the Great River. Of course, a photograph can never be a substitute for actually being by a river: of hearing it, smelling it and touching it.
Like the river, the Tao is a dynamic process. Words can only capture a single moment and that moment is not Tao. But they are revealing of Tao. And as a photograph is to a river, so words are to Tao: not a substitute.
But the idea that the Great Tao is shrouded in mystery can lead to words that are shrouded in mystery themselves, where meaningless phrases are said to represent the meaninglessness of Tao, but might actually represent the thoughts which the author is struggling to express.
Another pitfall is the muddling together of objective with subjective meaning. It is quite possible to intellectually describe an apple – to define it as a fruit that isn’t, for instance, a banana. It is not possible, however, to do so with its essence – its ‘appleness’ – the way it makes you feel, what memories it evokes in you.
The same is possible with music; and the same also with Tao. As the story goes, blind people, each feeling a different part of the same elephant, will disagree as to what an elephant is.
But we are not always blind.
The sages helped us to see what they saw. And what they saw was a dynamic process, which they did not seek to define or capture in words, but to understand and explain. Gravity can no more be captured by words as Tao can, but it too has been understood and explained.
As with gravity, the understandings and explanations of Tao – all clear and unambiguous – handed down to us from the sages, allow us to align ourselves with constant change and to prosper.
Tao inspires us to cultivate clarity in all things, and that includes the use of words. As a cultivation tool, they offer a picture of the true state of our minds and of our understanding. Likewise, clear and concise language can help reorder our minds, making us happier and paving the way for peaceful discussion.
