taoism

Tales of Taoist Weirdos

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As my friends and readers are doubtlessly aware, my spiritual practices are deeply influenced by Taoism. From breathing and energy practices, to philosophical advice, there’s a great deal to learn from the huge body of Taoist writings and lore. However, I’d like to discuss the various personalities of Taoist lore and history.

The greater body of Taoism lore and history contains a number of teachers, alchemists, mystics, and evolved human Immortals. Some are learned sages whose idols adorn temples all over the world. Others are acknowledged once in historical records or the credit of an obscure book. Most of them are just a delightful bunch of weirdos.

Gender-bending beloved flute-player Lan Caihe rubs shoulders with with Lü Dongbin, who achieved immortality after a kind of midlife crisis. There’s an alchemist-Prince who ascended to Heaven accompanies by cats and dogs because he spilled an bottle of immortality drugs. Lao-Tzu, creator of the Tao Te Ching, supposedly wrote his book when he just decided screw this and abandoned the corrupt time he lived in. More common tales might include old men with great physical powers, beggars obsessed with the Tao Te Ching, and more.

I adore this about Taoist lore because of how human is all is. A Taoist figure can be both an admirable role model and a cautionary tale separately or at the same time. Great Immortals come from humble beginnings, often learning from serious mistakes, sometimes with the help of more ancient teachers. Drunken poets spout brilliant prose between bouts of boozing in private groves. Even in more worshipful takes, the great figures of Taoism come off as relatable.

This makes Taoist tales and practices associated them more accessible in my opinion. The figures you encounter, historical and mystical, weren’t perfect in life and might even be eccentric in their divine state. If they can become better, if they can achieve peace or Immortality or just be better folks, so can you.

You also don’t feel judged by these diverse group of mystics and magicians. Their tales aren’t ones of moralizing and finger-wagging, but often of helpful figures who’ve “been there.” They’re not there to punish you – well usually, as some of them are willing to cut serious assholes down to size.

Finally, a lot of the tales of various Taoist figures are interesting and many are outright funny. There’s a reason you’ll see them pop in movies, films, television, etc.

The best way to spiritual practice is through being human – and a sense of humor as well.

– Xenofact

And So Words Become Part of Us

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I have many copies of the Tao Te Ching in my library.  I found joy in reading different translations because I found new insights each time and learned about the different translators.  One copy could provide lessons no other could, and together they were more powerful.

Regretfully, I had not read any of my copies in a while.  When I remediated this, I found something interesting happening after reading two or three translations – I felt the words in the book as much as I read them.  This feeling helped me gain insights and even led to some well-needed behavior and personal changes to deal with certain challenges.

(Specifically, this happened while reading the Red Pine translation, an excellent one, but one to read after you’ve gone through some easier translations)

In my younger years, I would read philosophical and meditative writings and then be frustrated at how hard it was to “change myself.”  With study and time, I found that personal growth or exploring mental and mystical spaces took work.  Mental and mystical journeys are oft one foot in front of another, and trying to jump ahead risks frustration or delusion.

Words inspire, guide, and inform but they are not a destination.  Now I saw they were also their own form of meditation.

I realized my reading of the Tao Te Ching had been a kind of exercise or meditation.  Anyone familiar with the book knows the small chapters, well-translated, can be very evocative.  I had soaked these in by reading and rereading nearly two dozen different copies, and now reading them brought forth lessons old and new.  The words had become part of me.

Reading words and trying to bash our thoughts into place to follow them is too easy to do and usually fails.  These experiences are a reminder that reading and rereading (or hearing and rehearing) wise words and transformative thoughts is a meditation.  We have to give words time to work their way into our minds, to be analyzed, felt, and understood.

I’m sure we’ve all heard stories of sages, holy men, hermits, and mystics who would read and reread a certain book.  Now I understand their efforts much more.

– Xenofact

Accuracy Through Obscurity

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When I returned to my meditative practices after a long break (entirely my own fault), I found myself frustrated.  Where were the insights I once had?  Why was this so hard, filled with distractions?  Where was this milestoneI had once passed, or that milestone I had reached?

Sometimes I suddenly had success, returning to the progress of years ago – and then it would snap back like a rubber band.  I had some techniques to help me, but they were temporary, and I’d end up back where I was, sitting and wondering what I was doing wrong after all those years.

Months of this (and further interruptions I had to work around), frustrated me further.  Eventually a random insight thanks to a podcast provided the righteous puncturing to my ego – I was trying to force my past experiences.  I was using a map and trying to force myself to a location instead of going step by step.

I focused on doing my practices properly and avoided interruptions, going bit by bit, breath by breath. The tensions, the frustration faded, and I made the progress I had sought with surprising rapidly.  The map in my head didn’t help, it just made me frustrated and unhappy with myself.

Yes, it was a terrible display of egotism.  But I value the insight – plus it makes a useful blog post!  Also, this post further gives my ego a good deflation, and that thing needs it.

This experience made me think of some of the Taoist documents I love, such as The Secret of the Golden Flower.  Though some of them describe certain meditative states, they oft use metaphor, maybes, and warnings of when you’re off the path.  In turn I thought about other mystical and meditative practices that seemed irritatingly obscure or symbolic.  I began to see the value of obscurity and symbolism in mystical practices.

I’ve always believed mystical, spiritual, magical practices should be as open as possible.  They are liberating and I am all for “liberation mysticism.”  But I realized that trying to map out what and how a mystical experience should happen invites people to become frustrated, to force it, or to use the map to imagine they’re having the experience.

I may have avoided the last one, but I certainly experienced the first two.
Now my meditation is just walking on the path, doing my techniques moment by moment, breath by breath.  My goal is to do them right and that’s what matters.  I’m walking the path, I’ll get to where I should be by sitting right there on my cushion.  I have my past experiences and writings by learned people to provide me signs, and I’ll recognize them when I see them.

A little obscurity is needed so you don’t deceive yourself.

  • Xenofact