Chapter 77 – The Mean

Heaven’s Way is indeed like the bending of a bow.
When (the string) is high, bring it down.
When it is low, raise it up. When it is excessive, reduce it.
When it is insufficient, supplement it. 

The Way of Heaven reduces whatever is excessive and supplements whatever in insufficient.
The way of man is different. It reduces the insufficient to offer to the excessive. 

Who is able to have excess to offer to the world? Only the man of Tao. 

Therefore the sage acts, but does not rely on his own ability.
He accomplishes his task, but does not claim credit for it.
He has no desire to display his excellence. 

Translation by Wing-Tsit Chan (1963)

If these words sound familiar, it is possibly because we have heard them before.  Look at the last lines in the translation above and compare them with the following language in Chan’s translation of Chapter 2: 

“He acts, but does not rely on his own ability.
He accomplishes his task, but does not claim credit for it.”

In Chapter 10 of Chan’s translation, we find:  “To act, but not rely on one’s own ability.”  His translation of Chapter 51 includes:  “[Tao] acts, but does not rely on its own ability.”

The beginning lines in this chapter also come with some familiarity.  In the comments on Chapter 9, I mentioned the similarity between aspects of Tao and the Middle Way of Buddhism and Aristotle’s Golden Mean.  The first four lines seem to follow that line of thought.

The fifth and sixth lines tell us that the way of man generally does not follow that “middle way.”  Rather, those that have take from those who do not have – the rich get rich and the poor stay poor.  This, too, has been said previously; as recently as Chapter 75.

However, I think that rather than a simple repetition of ideas, this chapter is included to make a particular point.  For reasons that will become clear in the following discussion, it also seems that it was probably added sometime after Lao Tzu’s original writing.  Continue reading →

Chapter 76 – You Are Old, Father William

When people are born they are gentle and soft.
At death they are hard and stiff.
When plants are alive they are soft and delicate.
When they die, they wither and dry up.
Therefore the hard and stiff are followers of death.
The gentle and soft are the followers of life. 

Thus, if you are aggressive and stiff, you won’t win.
When a tree is hard enough, it is cut. Therefore
The hard and big are lesser,
The gentle and soft are greater.

 Translated by Charles Muller (2011)

I have come to understand that this is a difficult chapter to translate, and various translations I have read use differing words and images.  All of them, though, convey the sense that all things begin life as something soft, tender, gentle and flexible, only to become stiff and hard as they age and eventually die.  Charles Muller’s translation expresses the concept well without any superfluous language, so it was chosen for this essay.

You Are Old, Father William

Even though the work of translation may be difficult here, the concept expressed is neither difficult nor new.  It can be tied back to chapters like Chapter 6 which praises the receptiveness of the Divine Feminine or to Chapters 10 and 36 in which I referred to the art of tai chi ch’uan to illustrate the power that comes from the gentle and supple movements of the internal martial arts.

A further discussion of the concept might include the words of Jesus in Matthew 18:3 that unless “ye become as little children, ye shall not enter the kingdom of heaven”; or in Matthew 5:5 that “Blessed are the meek for they shall inherit the earth.”  It might also include further discussion of the treasure of humility highlighted in Chapter 67.  Instead, though, I am going to offer for consideration “You Are Old, Father William,” from Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, which goes:  Continue reading →

Last year, I posted a list of the songs that were played at my daughter’s baby shower (you can click here to see it).  An average of about 20 people per day have visited that page since then.  Apparently there is a need to remind folks of some of the good songs you or I may have heard over the years.

There are some songs get stuck in my head so that I think about them over and over for several days, so I thought it appropriate that I should start posting a song of the week to try to pass what is going through my mind on to someone who is trying to find a song.  This is my first try at doing that.

Since today is Halloween, it would make sense to choose “Monster Mash” by Bobby “Boris” Pickett as the song of the week – especially since that was the first record I ever purchased.  Or, since next week is national election day, I could choose the Byrds’ “I Wanna Grow Up To Be a Politician.”  However, neither of those songs have been stuck in my head (until now, anyway).

Rather, last weekend, my wife, Cathy, and I were hiking with our dog, Darcy, at Staunton State Park, which is near Conifer, Colorado.  As we were walking along, just looking at the scenery and listening to our footsteps, I started thinking about Jackson Browne’s old song, “These Days” – “I’ve been out walking/I don’t do that much talking/These days.”

“These Days” is a piece that I have long considered to be an “accidentally” good song.  If you are familiar with it, you know that it gives a sense that the singer is world-weary and world-wisened.  However, Jackson Browne wrote it when he was only 16 years old.  If you listen to the words, or look at the lyrics (printed below) , you will find examples of his youthfulness showing through his words.  For example, when he says that he thinks about the things that he forgot to do, he adds “for you”; and I always found that distracting.  Similarly, when he says he will keep on moving because things are bound to be improving, it seems a good thought, but somehow out of place.

The song was first recorded by Nico in 1967.  Jackson Browne was only 19 then, but Nico was an older woman.  She was in her late 20s.  Besides that, she had a foreign accent that gave the song a sense of gravitas.  It introduced a segment of the public to Browne’s songwriting, but I never particularly liked her version.

A much better rendition was recorded in 1970 by Tom Rush.  Though he was also in his late 20s, Rush has always had a voice and delivery that made him seem older and wiser than the listener.  His version suffered a little from being over-produced, but I have always liked it.

Jackson Browne released his own version in 1973 on the album, For Everyman.  He was 25 years old.  I thought his arrangement also suffered from over-production, but it was done well (for one of his advanced age).

Recently, I came across the following “live” recording of Tom Rush singing “These Days,” with just a guitar accompaniment, when he was about 70 years old.  I like it – and he does not say “for you” at the end of the fifth line.  I like that, too.

Continue reading →

Chapter 75 – Life Should Be for Living

 People starve
If taxes eat their grain,
And the faults of starving people
Are the fault of their rulers.
That is why people rebel.
Men who have to fight for their living
And are not afraid to die for it
Are higher men than those who, stationed high,
Are too fat to dare to die.

Translation by Witter Bynner (1944)
(This is Chapter 74 in Bynner’s translation)

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 Come you Masters of War
. . . . .
You hide in your mansion
As young people’s blood
Flows out of their bodies
And is buried in the mud

 Bob Dylan, “Masters of War,” (1963)

_________________________________________

I have chosen Witter Bynner’s translation for this chapter primarily because I wanted some symmetry with the commentary on Chapter 53 that started with Bynner’s version and then a quote from Woody Guthrie’s “Pretty Boy Floyd.”

It does not require much analysis to see that the Tao Te Ching’s “men who have to fight for their living” can be compared to the bleeding “young people” in Dylan’s song, or that those who “are too fat to die” are like the “Masters of War” who hide in their mansions.

I am tempted to end this discussion with that observation.  I hate to break it to you, though, that I feel I must resist that temptation.  Instead, I am going to set our many more words because I would like to consider several other translations: Continue reading →

Chapter 74 – Questioning Capital Punishment

To me, this is one of those chapters that leaves a reader with more questions than answers.  If we consider some of those questions, perhaps a bit of understanding will emerge.

Q. Who are these people mentioned in the first two lines who are not afraid of death?

In the previous chapter, the sage considered the daring brave who often end up dead. This could be a continuation of that discussion, but I think not.  Those who are sufficiently oblivious to death to be considered brave, swashbuckling heroes usually make up a small minority of any social group.

The people who are mentioned could be those who believe in reincarnation or in an everlasting Paradise following their time in this world.  However, those concepts have not been discussed up to this point in the Tao Te Ching.

I believe that to make sense of the first two lines, it is necessary to look ahead to Chapter 75.  I had thought it might be good to discuss that chapter with this one, but have decided to look at each separately.  For now, let us simply consider that one reading of Chapter 75 says that a government that is overly zealous in taxing and controlling the people can push them to the point where they do not care if they live or they die.

In Witter Bynner’s translation, he reverses what are normally Chapters 74 and 75, so the chapter we are here considering as Chapter 74, is Chapter 75 for Bynner; and this Chapter 74 comes after he states that “men who have to fight for their living . . . are not afraid to die for it.” Continue reading →

Chapter 73 – Let’s Start With Bravery

 He who is brave in daring will be killed.
He who is brave in not daring will live.
Of these two, one is advantageous and one is harmful.
Who knows why Heaven dislikes what it dislikes?
Even the sage considers it a difficult question.
The Way of Heaven does not compete, and yet is skillfully achieves victory.
It does not speak, and yet it skillfully responds to things.
It comes to you without your invitation.
It is not anxious about things and yet it plans well.
Heaven’s net is indeed vast.
Though its meshes are wide, it misses nothing. 

Translated by Wing-Tsit Chan (1963)

Taoist Immortals

There are a lot of directions in which I think I should go with my comment on this chapter, many of which, I’m afraid, qualify as abject digressions.  I also would like to keep a reasonable length to what I write.  Therefore, I am going to try to avoid at least some of the digressions and be succinct in dealing with some of the subjects.  Let’s start with bravery.

It is certainly not surprising that humans recognize different kinds of brave actions.  Sometimes we are awed by the brave man or woman who rushes into danger without regard for personal safety.  Other times it is the person who is calm before a hazardous situation who is seen as brave.

Here, the sage tells us that “one is advantageous and one is harmful”; but he does not say which is which.

In a different context, I have written about the influence of the Vietnam War on the actions and beliefs of an entire generation of Americans.  That generation includes tens of thousands of brave men and women who risked or gave their lives in that war.  It also includes tens of thousands more who declared themselves conscientious objectors or who emigrated to Canada to avoid the draft or who protested against the war.  Without questioning the belief or sincerity of any of those groups or individuals, we still must consider which of the brave actions were advantageous and which harmful.

Recently, my friends Rudy and Tracy Spano introduced me to wonderful little book (about 100 pages), published in 1900, called Bushido, The Soul of Japan, by Inazo Nitobe.  The following is found at Page 15 of that book:

“ . . . ‘Courage is doing what is right’  To run all kinds of hazards, to jeopardize one’s self, to rush into the jaws of death—these are too often identified with Valor, and in the profession of arms such rashness of conduct—what Shakespeare calls, ‘valor misbegot,’ is unjustly applauded; but not so in the Precepts of Knighthood.  Death for a cause unworthy of dying for, was called a ‘dog’s death.’  ‘To rush into the thick of battle and be slain in it,’ says a Prince of Mito, ‘is easy enough, and the merest churl is equal to the task; but,’ he continues, ‘it is true courage to live when it is right to live, and to die only when it is right to die’ . . .”

Continue reading →

Chapter 72 – Why Not Rule Like a Sage?

 When the people lack a proper sense of awe,
Then some awful visitation will descend upon them. 

Do not constrict their living space;
Do not press down on their means of livelihood.
It is because you do not press down on them that they will not weary of the burden. 

Hence the sage knows himself but does not display himself,
Loves himself but does not exalt himself.

Therefore he discards the one and takes the other.

Translation by D. C. Lau (1963)

________________________________________________

When the people do not fear what they ought to fear, that which
is their great dread will come on them.

Let them not thoughtlessly indulge themselves in their ordinary
life; let them not act as if weary of what that life depends on.
It is by avoiding such indulgence that such weariness does not
arise.

Therefore the sage knows (these things) of himself, but does not
parade (his knowledge); loves, but does not (appear to set a) value
on, himself. And thus he puts the latter alternative away and makes
choice of the former.

Translation by James Legge (1891)

______________________________________________

When the people no longer fear your power,
It is a sign that a greater power is coming.

Interfere not lightly with their dwelling,
Nor lay heavy burdens upon their livelihood.
Only when you cease to weary them,
They will cease to be wearied of you.

Therefore, the Sage knows himself,
But makes no show of himself,
Loves himself,
But does not exalt himself.
He prefers what is within to what is without.

Translation by John C. H. Wu (1961)

________________________________________________

I began this consideration of Chapter 72 of the Tao Te Ching by quoting the translations of not one, but three, respected scholars because these three different approaches show the difficulty inherent in trying to translate this work.  Although I do not read Chinese, the research I did to prepare for these comments has indicated that the literal, word-for-word rendering of this chapter would be something like:

The people no fear power
Standard big power until
Not be improperly familiar with his place dwell
Not be disgusted with his place give birth to
Man alone not be disgusted with
Is because of not be disgusted with
Is because of sage man
Self know not self see
Self love not self precious
Reason remove that take this

In several commentaries I reviewed, it seems that the “modernistic” approach is to adopt a position close to the translations of Lau and Legge, which start by saying that if one does not have a proper perspective with respect to things which should invoke awe or dread, such things will come into his life.  Amy Putkonen simplifies that approach  by stating:  “When people are not expecting it/disaster happens.”

Due to the ambiguities inherent in ancient Chinese script from the perspective of a 20^th or 21^st Century person writing in English, the context of the language within the whole Tao Te Ching, or at least nearby chapters, must be considered to determine how the words may be rendered to make the most sense.  In this part of the book, Lao Tzu has several times given advice to rulers as to how the people should be governed.  I believe that he is again offering such advice here.  Therefore, I would lean toward accepting John C. H. Wu’s rendition.  Wu’s also seems the simplest, so perhaps it wins out simply based on Occam’s Razor.

Following Wu’s translation, I believe Lao Tzu is telling the Prince or Emperor, first, that the people must recognize the extent of his power, otherwise there is danger of rebellion or invasion by a neighboring kingdom which might see a weakness that could be exploited.

Once the power is clearly established, Lao Tzu says, as he has before (e.g., Chapters 57 and 58) that the ruler must permit his subjects personal freedoms and refrain from overbearing regulation and taxation.

Finally, he offers the ruler the example of the sage.  The sage is a person who understands his own virtues and abilities, but makes no show of them.  He knows that all that is really important is within his own person and does not seek any more than is necessary from the external world.  Why can’t governments act similarly?

Yeah, why can’t they?

Chapter 71 – I Know Nothing

To know that you do not know is the best.
To pretend to know when you do not know is a disease.
Only when one recognizes this disease as a disease can one be free from the disease.
The sage is free from the disease.
Because he recognizes this disease to be disease, he is free from it. 

Translation by Wing-Tsit Chan (1963)

I would like to propose three of the possible ways in which this chapter might be understood.

First:

This can be seen as a continuation of the ideas presented in the previous chapter.  There, Lao Tzu said that although his doctrines are easy to understand and practice, there is no one who can do that; and that since he is known and understood by only a few, he is highly valued.  He concluded by saying that the precious treasure which is the essence of the sage is obscured by what seems to be a covering of coarse cloth.

Wang Yang-Ming

In this chapter he is telling us that since we may not be able to understand and practice his doctrines and because we are often unable to see the hidden values of what may seem common or unappealing, we should just accept that.  There is no reason to pretend that we know or understand the concepts.  As we discussed in looking at the last chapter, they are not even concepts which are amenable to understanding through reason or human “knowledge.”  It is a disease – a disease of the Ego – that makes the non-sages among us think (and thinking is a problem) that an understanding of the ineffable in human terms is something that should be sought.

The true sages have developed immunity to that disease.

Second: Continue reading →