Change Your Thoughts—Change Your Life Page 15

  Withdraw yourself and allow others.

  Monitor your inclinations to compare yourself to others or to stay within the “system.” A system is designed to get you to behave just like everyone else, as it contrives to make comparisons determine your success or happiness. The Tao Te Ching urges you to seek obscurity: Draw little or no attention to yourself, and don’t ask to be recognized. Instead, allow, allow, allow.

  Let other people flourish, waxing on about their strength and popularity. As Lao-tzu says, you must deliberately grant others the right to expand, but take your own lesson from the fish that endure and stay in the deep waters of your Tao-directed soul.

  Do the Tao Now

  Give yourself an assignment to be as much in the background as you can for an entire day. Stifle inclinations to compare yourself to anyone else or to draw attention to yourself. You can accomplish this by making a commitment to be interested in others today, substituting the pronoun I for you. So instead of saying, “I did this kind of work for years; let me tell you how you should proceed,” remark, “You seem to be doing so well with your new business.” In the language of the Tao, stay soft and gentle and you will endure.

  37th Verse

  The Tao does nothing,

  but leaves nothing undone.

  If powerful men

  could center themselves in it,

  the whole world would be transformed

  by itself, in its natural rhythms.

  When life is simple,

  pretenses fall away;

  our essential natures shine through.

  By not wanting, there is calm,

  and the world will straighten itself.

  When there is silence,

  one finds the anchor of the universe within oneself.

  Living in Simplicity

  I call this the “Bite your tongue, zip your lips” verse of the Tao Te Ching. The paradox inherent in the two opening lines intrigues me enormously: “The Tao does nothing, but leaves nothing undone.” Just imagine what we’re being told to consider in this verse—do nothing and everything gets done. It obviously contradicts all that you and I have been taught. Doing nothing in our culture suggests a lazy, unsuccessful, and quite possibly worthless individual. So for a moment, let’s modify the way we think about living simply and doing nothing.

  Of all the troubles that are reported in the media—including wars, terrorism, famine, hatred, crime, and disease—how many are the result of interfering with the natural unfolding of creation? How much of the essential nature of ourselves and our planet is able to shine through? What would Earth be like if governments didn’t meddle in everyone’s lives? What if no one could be perceived as an enemy? Could there be a world where groups of people never got together to control others or to invade or conquer—how about where oceans, mountains, natural resources, air, plants, and animals were respected and allowed to flourish without any interference? Suppose that such a place of simplicity and lack of interference existed . . . it would be acting exactly as the Tao does, doing nothing and yet leaving nothing undone.

  Now shift out of this highly imaginative scenario and begin to reconsider what’s meant in this passage by the concept of powerful individuals transforming the world. When they’re interfering with natural rhythms, they ultimately create difficulties that are inconsistent with the Tao. Try to visualize great leaders who are instead centered in the Tao—they bite their tongues and zip their lips rather than act in a hostile way, and they refuse to participate in activities that cause harm to anything on the planet. Yes, this may be a fantasy, but it’s not an impossibility when you think like a sage and are centered in the Tao.

  The 37th verse of the Tao Te Ching can also help you change the way you look at yourself. Let’s say that you’re accustomed to equating the idea of success with a take-charge kind of person. You believe that this individual allocates responsibilities to others because he or she is a leader who’s willing and able to tell others what to do and how to do it. Well, this view is completely out of harmony with the Tao, which “does nothing” and “leaves nothing undone.” As you alter the way you look at your own power and success, you’ll begin to replace strong desires with calm contentment. When you start to allow your true nature—which is the anchor of the universe—to shine through, you’ll recognize that the way you look at things has absolutely changed.

  I’ve used this simplicity lesson in dealing with all of my children. When I step in and tell them “how,” I create resistance. But when I bite my tongue, zip my lips, and retreat into silence, they not only figure it out themselves, but a calm energy replaces their frustration. I’ve learned that my kids know how to be: They too have the anchor of the universe within them. They too are centered in the do-nothing, get-everything-done Tao. They too have an essential nature that they’re listening to. As I’ve gotten more adept at trusting this—not only for my children, but for everyone I encounter—I’m more peaceful. And guess what? More, not less, seems to get accomplished—on time and without problems that used to surface because of my interference.

  Change the way you think about the entire idea of success and power, for this isn’t the result of obsessive accomplishment and continually following directions. Start living in a world that you know 37th Verse works far better with less meddling. You understand that not everyone will stop instructing others and just allow the Tao to unfold, but you can be an observer, watching others tap into their power by centering themselves.

  Here’s what Lao-tzu suggests for making this verse become your daily reality:

  Cultivate your unique, natural self.

  Practice allowing your essential nature to shine by not enforcing judgments on yourself that were imposed by others. Remind yourself that you don’t have to do anything: You don’t have to be better than anyone else. You don’t have to win. You don’t have to be number 1 or number 27 or any other number. Give yourself permission to just be. Stop interfering with your unique natural being. Lighten the burden you carry to be productive, wealthy, and successful in the eyes of others; and replace it with an inner assertion that allows you to access the Tao. Affirm: I am centered in the Tao. I trust that I am able to straighten myself out, and so is the world. I retreat into silence, knowing that all is well.

  Expect to see the essential nature of others by remaining silent.

  Deliberately bite your tongue and zip your lips at the precise moment that you’re tempted to get involved in the lives of those around you. Become aware of your inclination to tell others, particularly your family members, how they should be conducting their lives. Even if you hold off for a few moments before you butt in to someone else’s business, you’re on your way to allowing those around you to find their anchor of the universe within themselves. This new discipline of resisting your habit to get involved by pausing before interfering will enable you to see how capable everyone truly is when they’re in the energy field of someone who allows rather than dictates.

  Do the Tao Now

  Print or copy the first two lines of this 37th verse: “The Tao does nothing, but leaves nothing undone.” Read the words repeatedly until you’ve committed them to memory; then go for a 30-minute walk and take note of their truth. The air, sky, clouds, grass, wind, and flowers . . . nothing natural that you see is undone, but nothing is taking place to work it all out. It is all accomplished by the truth of these words.

  I’m reminded of a 13th-century poem by Rumi called “Nibble At Me,” which applies perfectly to this section of the Tao Te Ching:

  Nibble at me.

  Don’t gulp me down.

  How often is it you have a guest in your house

  who can fix everything?

  Let your all-knowing guest fix things while you live naturally.

  38th Verse

  A truly good man is not aware of his goodness

  and is therefore good.

  A foolish man tries to be good

  and is therefore not good.

  The mast
er does nothing,

  yet he leaves nothing undone.

  The ordinary man is always doing things,

  yet many more are left to be done.

  The highest virtue is to act without a sense of self.

  The highest kindness is to give without condition.

  The highest justice is to see without preference.

  When the Tao is lost, there is goodness.

  When goodness is lost, there is morality.

  When morality is lost, there is ritual.

  Ritual is the husk of true faith,

  the beginning of chaos.

  The great master follows his own nature

  and not the trappings of life.

  It is said:

  “He stays with the fruit and not the fluff.”

  “He stays with the firm and not the flimsy.”

  “He stays with the true and not the false.”

  Living Within

  Your Own Nature

  Here’s the message behind this seemingly paradoxical verse of the Tao Te Ching: Your nature is to be good because you came from the Tao, which is goodness. But when you’re trying to be good, your essential nature becomes inoperative. In your effort to be good, moral, or obedient, you lose touch with your Tao nature.

  There’s one sentence in this verse that I pondered for days before writing this short essay: “When the Tao is lost, there is goodness.” I felt perplexed because it seemed so contradictory to what the Tao Te Ching was teaching. Finally, in a moment of contemplation while I meditated on a drawing of Lao-tzu, it became clear to me: Nature is good without knowing it were the exact words I heard in my meditation. I then understood what Lao-tzu seemed to want me to convey about this somewhat confusing (to me) 38th verse.

  Live by your essential nature, the Tao, which is oneness; it has no polarity. Yet the moment that you know you’re good, you introduce the polarity of “good” versus “bad,” which causes you to lose your connection to the Tao. Then you introduce something new—you figure that if you can’t be good, you’ll try to be moral. And what is morality but standards of right and wrong that you try to uphold? As Lao-tzu seems to be saying to me, The Tao is oneness; it has no standards for you to follow. In other words, the Tao just is; it isn’t doing anything, yet it leaves nothing undone. There’s no morality; there is only the unattached Tao. It isn’t right and it isn’t fair, but it is essential nature, and you’re encouraged to be true to your own.

  As morality is lost, the idea of ritual surfaces, so you try to live in accordance with rules and customs that have defined “your people” for centuries. But I could almost hear Lao-tzu saying: The Tao is infinite and excludes no one. Rituals keep you disconnected from the Tao, and you lose them by trying. So you rely upon laws, further dividing yourself and creating chaos for yourself. Again, the Tao just is its own true, essential nature—it has no laws, rituals, morality, or goodness. Observe it and live within its nature. In other words, act without being concerned for your own ego. Give as the Tao does, without condition or trying to be good, moral, or just. Just give to all without preference, as Lao-tzu advises.

  I admit that living by this 38th verse may be the total opposite of what you’ve learned in this lifetime. It certainly represents both an intellectual and a behavioral challenge for me at times. You may appreciate knowing that many of the scholars whom I researched regarding this verse said that Lao-tzu wrote it (and the next one) in response to his opposition to Confucius, his contemporary who laid out specific edicts and codes of conduct for the people. What Lao-tzu seemed to be saying to me through meditation was: Trust your own essential nature. Let go of all polarities and live in the indivisible oneness that is the Tao. The dichotomies of good/bad, right/wrong, proper/improper, legal/illegal, and the like can be difficult—just remember that when they surface, the Tao is lost.

  Here’s some more advice for you, through me, from Lao-tzu:

  Live in your essential nature by rejecting artificial principles.

  These principles in descending order are goodness, fairness, rites, and laws. Artificial goodness is an attempt to live by not being “bad,” so you allow others to decide where you fit in on a goodness scale. Affirm: I am of the Tao, a piece of God, and I need no human-made device to confirm it. Goodness and God-ness are one, and I trust who I am and will act from this perspective. I am staying with this truth and not what is false. Furthermore, see that the Tao isn’t concerned with fairness—give of yourself knowing that this is an artificial contrivance that cannot exist from a perspective of oneness. You are from, and will return to, that oneness, regardless of your opinions about it. So open up generously without desiring to be treated fairly.

  Abandon outmoded familial and cultural customs.

  Relinquish rites that you feel compelled to follow simply because they’ve been that way in your lifetime, and particularly in your family. Peacefully affirm: I am free to live, trusting in the eternal Tao. I do not have to be as my ancestors were. I relinquish ancient rituals that no longer work or that perpetuate separation or enmity. Remind yourself that goodness isn’t accessed by obeying laws; rather, it is what resonates with your essential nature. You don’t need any sort of code to decide what is proper, good, moral, ethical, or legal. Trust yourself to be an instrument of love by surrendering to your highest nature rather than being seduced by mortal laws.

  This poem from the 16th-century mystic Saint John of the Cross, titled “A Rabbit Noticed My Condition,” beautifully describes this attitude:

  I was sad one day and went for a walk;

  I sat in a field.

  A rabbit noticed my condition and came near.

  It often does not take more than that to help at times —to just be close to creatures who

  are so full of knowing,

  so full of love

  that they don’t—

  chat,

  they just gaze with

  their marvelous understanding.

  Do the Tao Now

  Spend a day consciously choosing to notice one of God’s creatures, such as a dog, a butterfly, a moth, a spider, an ant, a fish, a cat, a deer, or whatever attracts you. You can learn a lot from them about trusting your inner nature. They are, as the poet says, “so full of knowing.”

  39th Verse

  These things from ancient times arise from one:

  The sky is whole and clear.

  The earth is whole and firm.

  The spirit is whole and full.

  The 10,000 things are whole, and the country is upright.

  All these are in virtue of wholeness.

  When man interferes with the Tao,

  the sky becomes filthy,

  the earth becomes depleted,

  the equilibrium crumbles,

  creatures become extinct.

  Therefore, nobility is rooted in humility;

  loftiness is based on lowliness.

  This is why noble people refer to themselves

  as alone, lacking, and unworthy.

  The pieces of a chariot are useless

  unless they work in accordance with the whole.

  A man’s life brings nothing

  unless he lives in accordance with the whole universe.

  Playing one’s part

  in accordance with the universe

  is true humility.

  Truly, too much honor means no honor.

  It is not wise to shine like jade and

  resound like stone chimes.

  Living Wholeness

  We traditionally think of wholeness as something that’s complete. “The whole nine yards,” for instance, implies the entire distance. “I ate the whole thing” signifies having consumed something completely. Lao-tzu, however, seems to view the concept differently: Wholeness, he writes, has roots in humility. When humility evokes our wholeness, we live the reality that we’re pieces of the whole.

  With this attitude, you want to exist harmoniously with the entire universe—cooperating with, and being s
ubjugated to, other aspects of the whole. You can’t even consider interfering with any piece of it because you’re one with it. The moment you begin to place yourself in a transcendent position in relation to others, or to your world of the 10,000 things, you’re interfering with the Tao. I encourage you to examine your concept of wholeness based upon this 39th verse of the Tao Te Ching. I can assure you that the world will appear to have changed when you see it through this lens.

  Lao-tzu insists that the universe is whole; that is, it’s in a state of oneness. There are no parts needing separation from this state. Sky, earth, spirit, and the 10,000 things are all parts of the whole—and what’s more, that’s their virtue! Now while the sky and the trees may truly be in a unified state, your ego insists that you’re separate, distinct, and generally superior. But if you can modify your ego’s viewpoint, your life will change.

  When you’re cooperative and looking for signs of oneness, you’ll begin to see and feel the interconnectedness of everything. For example, your body is a convenient analogy for a universe all unto itself. While it is one entity, it certainly has trillions of individual, although interconnected, cells. Just one cell with an arrogant relationship to the whole makes all the cells suffer and ultimately become extinct, much like the individual who interferes with the Tao by polluting the sky, depleting the earth, and disrupting the equilibrium of the whole. A cancer cell that refuses to cooperate with the cells adjacent to it will ultimately gobble them up, and if left unchecked, will destroy the whole. Why? Because that cancerous cell has no relationship to the whole. It will destroy itself as it kills the host upon which it depends for its own survival. And you’ll destroy yourself if you participate in destroying the Tao upon which you are dependent for your survival.