FAQ: How Can Silence and Noninterference Lead Us to Understanding Tao’s Way?
FAQ
Approx read time: 8.7 min.
Tao’s Way: The Path Beyond Distinctions
From the First Article “Tao’s Way”:
I
The paths we tread and the tracks we walk on are not the eternal Way. Any name we might borrow for Tao cannot truly summon It; names are merely sounds for ordinary things, placeholders for the ineffable.
II
Before there were paths to follow or words to speak, Tao existed, giving rise to everything. But once we start naming things, trying to tame and define them, we enter into an endless cycle of words powered by ego and desire, leading us further astray.
III
To truly glimpse the mystery of Tao, one must let go of desires. Desiring, we see only the surface, the husks and appearances, not the essence.
IV
Yet, desiring and not-desiring are twins born from the same dark mystery. Through this darkness lies the path to all wisdom, embodying the essence of Tao’s style.
Heinrich Zimmer once said, “The best things can’t be told, the second best are misunderstood.”
Walt Whitman, in his ‘Song of Myself,’ expressed a similar sentiment:
“I do not know it… it is without name… it is a word unsaid, It is not in any dictionary or utterance of symbol.”
The Bible also reflects this idea:
“Since you saw no form when the Lord spoke to you at Horeb out of the fire, take care and watch yourselves closely, so that you do not act corruptly by making an idol for yourselves, in the form of any figure.”
(Deuteronomy 4:15–16)
“To whom will you liken me and make me equal, and compare me, as though we were alike?”
(Isaiah 46:5)
“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways, says the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the Earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.”
(Isaiah 55:8–9)
Frederick Buechner, in ‘The Final Beast,’ poignantly wrote:
“Part of her had been diminished by being named.”
Sextus added:
“Do not seek God’s name, for you will not find it. Everything with a name is named by someone stronger, so that one might call and the other obey. Who then has named God? ‘God’ is not God’s name, but an opinion about God.”
From the Second Article “Distinctions Promote Contention”:
Ursula K. Le Guin, in ‘A Wizard of Earthsea,’ writes:
“It is no secret. All power is one in source and end, I think. Years and distances, stars and candles, water and wind and wizardry, the craft in a man’s hand and the wisdom in a tree’s root: they all arise together. My name, and yours, and the true name of the sun, or a spring of water, or an unborn child, all are syllables of the great word that is very slowly spoken by the shining of the stars. There is no other power. No other name.”
Seng-ts’an, in Hsin-Hsin Ming, reflects similarly:
“The Great Way is not difficult for those not attached to preferences… To set up what you like against what you dislike is the disease of the mind.”
Pink Floyd, in ‘Us and Them,’ sings:
“Black… and blue
And who knows which is which and who is who.
Up… and down,
And in the end it’s only round ’n round.
Haven’t you heard it’s a battle of words?”
Notes and Reflections
The ancient Chinese text of Tao Te Ching contains about five thousand characters, but every one is but commentary after the first fifty-nine. We begin with this mystery: In the beginning is the silence. Tao needs no language to do Its work, for Its syntax is silence. We discover Its work in unregistered fluencies. Therefore, in the presence of the Tao, we must practice silence. When speaking, one can hear little. Language, with all its complexity, is not simple enough for Tao; hence, Tao is best expressed without the interference of words.
In this verse, we are asked to trust and listen, not to control by defining. Have we ever been able to trust and control at the same time? To “enword” Tao is to start the gravest of partisan attempts to bring rational understanding (control) to Tao—a task as impossible as it is foolish. The reason we give names or voices to Tao is that we do not listen. To give a voice is to provide just one name, out of countless possible names, to that which is without name. When one name becomes the name, the only name, fundamentalism begins. It is much better to practice silence about what cannot be known with certainty than to speak and declare an ignorance that can turn into a certainty.
Tao has no proprietary language of Its own. Therefore, to speak about It, one must borrow language that is incapable of truly knowing or situating Tao. Thus, all descriptions of Tao have to pretend correctness and concreteness—wink, wink. Fundamentalist ways do not understand this wink. Tao’s style is inscrutable, and all we are left with is an urge to show the Way with “the best possible failure.” All languages suggest but fail to deliver on their suggestions: the word fire does not warm or burn a thing. Language’s power is suggestive, never certain.
What should we do with all this suggestive power? Practice silence, which carries its own delicate eloquence. Remain sensitive to Tao by paying wordless attention to the ordinary course of things. Moses, in Exodus, confronted—barefoot—his god. He asked for the divine name, but all he got was an indefinite “I am who I am… I will be what I will be.” However, Moses took this imprecise definition and created a liberation and religious movement. Those with ears would do well to listen.
So what is Tao’s “sound,” if not human sputtering? Bees humming about the garden. The brilliance of flowers. Colors of autumn. The soundscape of the forest. The water’s drip-drip-drip bringing inevitable change in hard places. The pain cries of a birthing mother and her baby’s first mewl. Even cries of lament or feet marching for justice are Tao’s sounds. Whatever voices arise from the Earth, and however they are accented, are Tao’s sounds. They are Its creeds, Its confessions, and we may learn their fluencies. With no language-sound or visible path, Tao is discovered in the word-silence, just by walking along the Way Itself.
This verse speaks to a mutual arising (arousing) of things in the discriminating mind, like sheep with shepherds, senses coupling with sensed objects, mind joining with thought, the “bad” balancing out the “good,” pain longing for pleasure, light needing a contrasting dark, and death coupling with life. This production of distinctions, however, leads to false, impoverished dualisms that are not eternal. To be clear, Tao celebrates the binaries of yin and yang, of mutually interpenetrating things like waves and the ocean or bees and flowers. This celebration, however, is more a dance of inseparables and less the Western dualism of warring passions where one must take an uncompromising side that must conquer the other, and at all costs. Such separations and distinctions are artificial and render no benefits except to partisan thinking. Why put the “ten thousand things” into contrived contests? This is the beginning of a disturbed mind.
This verse introduces Wu-wei (無為) for the first time in Tao Te Ching. 無 is a particle of negation; 為 connotes action, pursuit, and engagement. Translated here as nonmeddling or noninterference (and later as nonpursuit), Wu-wei is translated most often as no-action, not-doing, natural acting, or other terms suggesting egoless or forceless action. However, Wu-wei is not a signal to avoid or be lazy, not to influence or anticipate, nor be passive for passivity’s sake. Wu-wei is simple, uncontrived steering without clinging to ownership of either the action or its fruits. It is merely focused action without attachment to any desired outcome. A cart’s wheel is just going to make tracks; that is all. Wu-wei is Taoism’s core competency, the fruit of which is peace precisely because it has no ego-assisted agenda. See my introduction and other verses that speak to Wu-wei: 3, 11, 29, 37, 43, 47, 48, 63, and 64.
Finally, we see the first instance of what I am translating in this work as “Sage”: 聖人, which appears in Tao Te Ching thirty times. The word is used as an exemplar of ethical Taoist sensibility and literally translates as “one who is holy,” or “of high character.” This is not the same as the Confucian Analects’s use of junzi (君子), which is also translated as “sage.” In Confucian thought, junzi signifies one consummately capable of wise and ethical behavior.
Connecting the Two Articles
The themes explored in both “Tao’s Way” and “Distinctions Promote Contention” are profoundly interconnected. Both delve into the essence of Tao, the limitations of language, and the practice of Wu-wei or noninterference.
In “Tao’s Way,” we see how language fails to capture the essence of Tao and how silence becomes a means to truly understand the ineffable. This aligns with the idea presented in “Distinctions Promote Contention” that our discriminative minds create artificial dualities that lead to contention and confusion. Both articles highlight the importance of transcending these dualities through the practice of noninterference and embracing the natural flow of life.
Wu-wei, introduced in “Distinctions Promote Contention,” is a core concept in Taoism, advocating for actions that are in harmony with the natural world, free from ego-driven desires and artificial distinctions. This practice complements the call for silence and mindful awareness in “Tao’s Way,” suggesting a unified approach to living in accordance with Tao.
Conclusion
Together, these articles present a cohesive exploration of Taoist philosophy. They emphasize the importance of letting go of the need to control or define, embracing silence, and practicing Wu-wei to achieve harmony with the natural world. By recognizing the limitations of language and the artificial nature of dualities, we can align ourselves more closely with the essence of Tao, discovering peace and wisdom in the simplicity of being.
Related Faqs
About the Author: Bernard Aybout (Virii8)
