From of old there are not lacking things that have attained Oneness.
The sky attained Oneness and became clear;
The earth attained Oneness and became calm;
The spirits attained Oneness and became charged with
mystical powers;
The fountains attained Oneness and became full;
The ten thousand creatures attained Oneness and became
reproductive;
Barons and princes attained Oneness and became
sovereign rulers of the world.
All of them are what they are by virtue of Oneness.
If the sky were not clear, it would be likely to fall
to pieces;
If the earth were not calm, it would be likely to
burst into bits;
If the spirits were not charged with mystical powers,
they would be likely to cease from being;
If the fountains were not full, they would be likely
to dry up;
I the ten thousand creatures were not productive, they
would be likely to come to extinction;
If the barons and princes were not the sovereign
rulers, they would be likely to stumble and fall.
Truly, humility is the root from which greatness
springs,
And the high must be built upon the foundation of the
low.
This is why barons and princes style themselves “The
Helpless One,” “The Little One,” and “The Worthless One.”
Perhaps they realise their dependence upon the lowly.
Truly, too much honour means no honour.
It is not wise to shine like jade and resound like
stone-chimes.
A long and lengthy chapter from the normally laconic old man! Yet so much of it is an exposition of a
single, yet radical idea: The world is as it is because it has found harmony
with the abiding principle; the Tao. The
permanence and stability of the earth is the near-perfect expression. The minerals and the metals are not
excitable; they endure and exist over time frames unimaginable, and in their
simplicity, their crystalline structures are almost perfectly adjusted to the
vicissitudes of time.
And if we want an even more perfect expression of the Tao, consider the sky! The earth will crumble away over the millennia but the sky remaineth. Pure, clear and yet dynamic and ever changing, the sky is cleansed of nearly all materiality. With nothing except the simplest atoms, the ethereal sky is as close to the Tao as we can imagine.
As is often the case in the Tao Te Ching, the argument then proceeds
through a hierarchy of attainment.
Water, gods and spirits and animals are all dependent in their own way
upon the Tao for the qualities that define them. Living vitality is the trait of the animal;
the power to adapt, respond and self-regulate is our inheritance from the Tao
and without it we are dead. Of course,
special concern is how we, as ordinary human beings, can best embody the Tao.
If the barons and princes were not the sovereign
rulers, they would be likely to stumble and fall.
Truly, humility is the root from which greatness
springs,
And the high must be built upon the foundation of the
low.
While barons and princes must be the exemplars of how to abide with the
Tao, the lesson is for all of us. The
discussion proceeds as a meditation on statecraft; what is most striking here
is that the sovereignty of the ruler is dependent upon the degree to which they
can abide by the Tao. This cuts through
the dilemma that has plagued Western civilisation: is there, as Shakespeare
suggests, a ‘divinity that doth hedge a King?
Or is the King an all too human figure who must continuously warrant his
position by merit, or else be overthrown?
The Tao Te Ching suggests the ruler accrues merit by obedience to the
Tao, and the Tao in return will confer upon him the ineffable stamp of
sovereignty that all recognise, and before whom all will bend their knee.
Humility is clearly presented as the correct method: but what does it
mean that the high must be built upon the low?
If we don’t have a conception of a higher force shaping who we are then
we will inevitably ‘take the credit’ for all the good fortune that comes our
way. We will consider ourselves clever, powerful and determined. We will view others as less clever, powerful
and determined as we are. We will place
too much faith in our own judgement and less on the judgement of others. Dissenting voices will be dismissed as
misguided; agreeing voices will be judged as most wise for no other reason than
that they concur with our own.
As we discussed in Chapter 39, when our opinions about the world start
to become fixed we lose the ability to appreciate situations in their
complexity. Our conduct is based on what
happened ‘last time’ and we fail to realise that circumstances never repeat
exactly. Actually, we are faced with
something novel and unprecedented and we must carefully appraise the situation
as something unknown. Our rich
experience and wonderful wisdom must count for nothing; so too must our status
and power to ‘strong-arm’ events. The
only wisdom here is a humble beginner’s mind.
This is why barons and princes style themselves “The
Helpless One,” “The Little One,” and “The Worthless One.”
Truly, too much honour means no honour.
If we have honour it is because we are willing to accept it. Perhaps we should be embarrassed – mortified to
have people subjugate themselves before us.
To not correct people in their subservience is itself proof that you are
not deserving of the honour people wish to give you.
It is not wise to shine like jade and resound like
stone-chimes.
You are the one who will be found out in the end. One is reminded of Napoleon, Emperor of
Europe to all except his peasant-born mother.
‘Pourvu que ça dure,’ she would say: ‘So long as it all lasts!’
No comments:
Post a Comment