Taoism

The Changes: Situations

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As noted in previous writings, I’ve been working to cultivate an “Ecosystem” of thought, based around my Taoist influences. This includes reading bits of the Tao Te Ching each day, as well as studying at least one Hexagram from various translations of the I Ching. I’d like to focus on the latter, as it highlights the benefits of this “ecosystem” approach.

The I Ching’s name roughly translates as Book of Changes, which fits its origins and many, many modifications. It seems to have started as a divinatory guide, but includes philosophical commentary that has been added to over the years, and of course there are many “less official” takes. But at it’s core are 64 situations in life that one may be in, and advice (supernatural or otherwise) applied to it. And over the aeons, people have had plenty to say.

I suppose a book called “The Book of Changes” that . . . changes . . . kind of fits. I rather enjoy the additional commentary that others have added because it’s all about understanding situations in life and how to respond. In my readings something struck me about how this is all about the “Changes” in life – every situation is a change.

Whatever situation we’re in, it’s the result of a change, and in turn it will change into something else. It arose from something before it, and will pass into something after it. The advice in the I Ching and many a philosophical work is really “how do you deal with this and determine what will happen next.” I realized from this that whatever situation I might find myself in, it’s healthier to think of it as “A Change.”

Because I think of whatever arises as A Change, I don’t act like it’s permanent because it’s not. If it is good, it will pass or decay, or need maintenance, or need to be altered to continue. If it is bad it will pass, and it is up to me to navigate the time and how other things may result from it. The moment is a squirming, living, changing thing.

This helps me be less worried about the moment as it’s about steering towards something – or at least surviving the current Change. I’m living a snapshot of life, part of something greater, and I can see it as a chance to take control (or take my hands off the controls). I don’t see it as solid, I see where I am as mutable.

Viewing the current moment of life as a Change also helps me be responsible, and asks how do I deal with it and what may come next. Indeed the I Ching is often about “here’s this situation, here’s some advice of what may be an annoyingly general quality.” But it is about “how do I respond,” and it sort of helps that over the centuries quite a few people responded with “here’s my opinion.”

So this use of the I Ching, to switch my view to seeing life as Changes, has been quite helpful to me. It’s more responsible, less stressful, and honestly more engaging with life. I suppose I passed some point in my “mental ecosystem” where I’m seeing the world as far more of an ecosystem.

Also It’s more relaxing, and I appreciate that benefit as well.

The Changes: Situations

As noted in previous writings, I’ve been working to cultivate an “Ecosystem” of thought, based around my Taoist influences. This includes reading bits of the Tao Te Ching each day, as well as studying at least one Hexagram from various translations of the I Ching. I’d like to focus on the latter, as it highlights the benefits of this “ecosystem” approach.

The I Ching’s name roughly translates as Book of Changes, which fits its origins and many, many modifications. It seems to have started as a divinatory guide, but includes philosophical commentary that has been added to over the years, and of course there are many “less official” takes. But at it’s core are 64 situations in life that one may be in, and advice (supernatural or otherwise) applied to it. And over the aeons, people have had plenty to say.

I suppose a book called “The Book of Changes” that . . . changes . . . kind of fits. I rather enjoy the additional commentary that others have added because it’s all about understanding situations in life and how to respond. In my readings something struck me about how this is all about the “Changes” in life – every situation is a change.

Whatever situation we’re in, it’s the result of a change, and in turn it will change into something else. It arose from something before it, and will pass into something after it. The advice in the I Ching and many a philosophical work is really “how do you deal with this and determine what will happen next.” I realized from this that whatever situation I might find myself in, it’s healthier to think of it as “A Change.”

Because I think of whatever arises as A Change, I don’t act like it’s permanent because it’s not. If it is good, it will pass or decay, or need maintenance, or need to be altered to continue. If it is bad it will pass, and it is up to me to navigate the time and how other things may result from it. The moment is a squirming, living, changing thing.

This helps me be less worried about the moment as it’s about steering towards something – or at least surviving the current Change. I’m living a snapshot of life, part of something greater, and I can see it as a chance to take control (or take my hands off the controls). I don’t see it as solid, I see where I am as mutable.

Viewing the current moment of life as a Change also helps me be responsible, and asks how do I deal with it and what may come next. Indeed the I Ching is often about “here’s this situation, here’s some advice of what may be an annoyingly general quality.” But it is about “how do I respond,” and it sort of helps that over the centuries quite a few people responded with “here’s my opinion.”

So this use of the I Ching, to switch my view to seeing life as Changes, has been quite helpful to me. It’s more responsible, less stressful, and honestly more engaging with life. I suppose I passed some point in my “mental ecosystem” where I’m seeing the world as far more of an ecosystem.

Also, It’s more relaxing, and I appreciate that benefit as well.

–Xenofact

Trees, Taoism, and Bigots

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Recently I saw a certain member of a religious group refer to non-religious people as a social burden. I won’t name names, but the man says he’s Catholic. He belongs to a league of similar followers. Figure it out yourself.

Anyway, this culty creep’s opinion is actually very revealing. He states people who are not religious – and his form of religion – are a burden. He’s pretty damn close to the Nazi idea of “useless eater,” which tells me he’s not just awful, he’s probably afraid of demographic changes towards the non-religious in America. He wants to classify people not like him as a burden, as “not useful.”

Well, not useful to him, because a lot of religious organizations are just about turning people into tools so the bigwigs end up in power. Calling someone “useless” or a “burden” says outright that people should be “useful” to others, like a tool. It also is close enough to saying “non-useful” people should be eliminated.

This reminds me of Taoist tales of trees, and why “usefulness” is highly overrated. In Taoist lore I’ve encountered multiple tales of trees that are relevant to how people view each other. Let’s go into the two I’m familiar with, both of which I encountered in some form in the Chuang Tzu but have heard other variants.

First up is the tale of a carpenter and his apprentice. Seeing a tree, the carpenter comments how absolutely useless the tree is to he, the carpenter, so twisted and knotted and so on he couldn’t do anything with it. After they returned home, the spirit of the tree came to the carpenter and notes that it grew to be so old just because it was useless. The carpenter told his apprentice the experience.

I love this story because it notes that being useful means people may not just use you but use you up – but being useless may mean you live long.

The second tale involves a weird tree which is also useless due to it’s wood (sometimes it has giant useless leaves or huge but foul and inedible nuts). However one of the characters notes that the tree is actually quite useful – you plant it and you get lots of shade. Other stories may include parts of the tree – the weird leaves make great umbrellas, or the nut shells are big enough to use as a small boat.

I like this story because it notes that sometimes just leaving something alone may let you enjoy it as well. The tree is “useful” because you don’t try to use it.

These are great stories because they make you ask what is the use of usefulness? If it kills you off, what good is it? If just being is good, you’re valued but not used. We’d all be better off appreciating whats there (and less likely to destroy it).

I’m all for social cohesion and social responsibility. But turning people into tools, trying to constantly rank who’s “useful” means no cohesion, no responsibility, and eventually no society. We need to appreciate uselessness.

It also disarms people like the aforementioned bigots. It reminds us when someone starts talking how “useless” people are, how they’re “a burden” they’re not caring about people. They want us to be their tools.

Also, they’re assholes.

–Xenofact

The Tao of Health and Neuroses

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Let me cut to the chase – I’m a hypochondriac in that kind of “annoying worrying way.” You can guess COVID wasn’t a picnic for me, but let’s just say I also felt ahead of the curve. However I’ve also been working to address this as worrying about health too much really isn’t, well, healthy.

As of late, I’ve done a lot of “health maintenance” as assorted regular activities piled up in recent months. I had to catch up on my vaccines. I had a colonoscopy every five years as I’m an older gentleman and it’s good just in case. I’ve had some regular tests everyone goes through and just-in-case stuff.

The test part always gets on my nerves. You go in and give blood or get wired up or whatever and then after whatever indignities you go through you then wait for results. The waiting can be nerve wracking – I’m sure you’ve been there.

So as I waited for the last of my various accumulated tests, and of course worried, I speculated how I could handle this better. Something struck me from my studies of Taoism, meditation, and mysticism.

Good health does not come from just “being healthy.” It’s exercise and good attitude, appropriate food and activities, and of course checking relevant things like blood pressure or getting enough sleep. Good health is a kind of navigation.

The tests I take regularly (my doctor prefers to test early and often to prevent things) may be stressful but they’re ways to navigate to health. There’s no difference between sending blood to the lab and observing ideal conditions for good sleep – one just involves getting jabbed with needles by a very well-mannered medical professional.

Good health lies not just on practices, but checking on yourself. By acknowledging the possibility of ill health or less-than-ideal health, you then can practice good health. It’s very – and I hate to sound this tropey – Yin and Yang.

This further made me think about various Taoist energetic practices, how one cycles and balances energies. From the simple ones to the ones I would call “questionably elaborate” they treat the body as a system not a solid thing, aligning and guiding this process of being alive.

This re-envisioning made me feel at least somewhat better. Good health is based on the chance of bad health. It’s all a system, a kind of dialogue or navigation. These tests I was worried about were just part of the overall “Tao of Health.” Seeing how all these habits worked reminded me of the insights I’d have when meditating, seeing the “parts of myself.”

Everything turned out OK as the last of the data came in. Maybe next time I’m getting jabbed or whatever, I’ll remember these lessons.

(Note, if you do investigate Taoist health and energetic practice, get ready for a ride and to be skeptical. There’s some truly amazing stuff from over the centuries, some of which seems quite modern, and there’s also bizarre and dangerous bullshit. If you want to go beyond metaphors, do be careful.)