Who We Were In Time

I was recently reading Thomas Cleary’s The Tao of Politics. These are extracts from the heavily Taoist document the Huainanzi. Having read another set of extracts (Original Tao), I thought it would be a refresher, and helps convince me to buy a full translation which is 1000 pages long. As of this writing, it’s in the mail, so I got convinced.

However, beyond my compulsion and Cleary’s ever-excellent translations, he made an interesting comment on the Huainanzi and Taoism. The Huainanzi was written in a time of rebuilding after a painful period of war, a look back and a plan for the future. Cleary noted other formative Taoist documents, the Tao Te Ching and Chuang-tzu were written in times of war, and were affected as such. These were Taoist documents but written in radically different times.

That got me thinking about history and the words of wisdom we seek. Yes, we all know writings we partake in are written “of the time,” under certain conditions, and so forth. We accept that, but Cleary’s comment made me think that we know that but maybe we really need to think about it.

We may read books and scripture and so on that are written of their time, but even books of the same lineage like these Taoist documents are written under radically different situations. This isn’t different generations alone, these are people who wrote between war and peace, destruction, and construction, dying randomly from civil strife or having a chance to not do so.

I think it really behooves us to look at documents of our philosophical and mystical efforts and when we see something of it’s time, pause and reflect on that. Maybe we don’t just read and admire and learn from the great minds and philosophers in our library but ask what were they going through and seeing. History is experienced.

It’s said that Lao Tzu, author of the Tao Te Ching wrote it while hightailing it out of a city in disgust with the age. Sure, it’s probably mythical-metaphorical, but people of the time might get it as wise guys were saying “screw this, I’m riding a buffalo into the mountain” because things sucked.

It’ll help us better understand what we read because we get the time, the who, and the why. It’ll also let us have some empathy on those we seek to learn from. That above comment about bugging out of society makes me feel some sympathy for Lao Tzu even if he is a pen name or metaphor. Sometimes I want that buffalo – and boy do I get Chuang-Tzu’s desire to be poetically sarcastic as hell.

But another advantage to this? When you look at philosophical lineages – again like Taoism – across time, the writings occur in radically different situations. However among those books and essays across centuries you read, there are consistent patterns. Those consistent patterns are lessons that have survived different times, places, events – they’re worth learning from.

None of us are outside of history. When understanding timeless wisdom, we need to understand history to learn what’s transcended it – and understand what people went through. The timeless and the specific together.

-Xenofact

The Flaws of Virtue

The Flaws of Virtue

“Great Virtue Seems Flawed” is a quote from the Tao Te Ching Chapter 41. Lately I’ve been thinking about that between a mix of readings and watching today’s supposedly virtuous people. The former makes me think, the later makes me outraged THEN I think. I suppose it all goes to the same place – people with deep morals and principles, grounded ones, are NOT going to look perfect to people.

Because looking perfect is a great way to not actually focus on important issues and your own personal integrity.

Think of how much of “morality” we’re taught is just posturing. Say the right thing. Smile at the right time. Invoke some religious platitudes. I mean how many times do you see someone held up as a moral paragon who violates everything their religion and principles supposedly stand for?

In a media age it’s even worse. I’m often stunned – me, who’s had plenty of time to become cynical – how often supposed moralists are clearly not following what they say. They are lying to people’s faces, posing, posturing.

A person who has deep values, who has connected values, doesn’t place performative actions on a pedestal. They’re not here to sell you themselves, they’re not here to grift you. They have certain principles and act on them. Often that will conflict with the performative morality of others.

This also means that people who are interested in what is right and what values run deep is going to clash with the times. By definition someone who is contemplating what’s important is going to be at odds with flaws in society at the time. They will make waves, they will not be what we expect – and a smart society has “space” for wave makers (which lets you find out who has good ideas and who is just a jackass).

Finally, some ideas of what proper, moral behavior is really fall away when people take a look at deep issues and principles. Deep morality will seem flawed as people realize some things they were taught are, at best, useless, and worse harmful. Look at the history of people protesting injustice against people for skin color, sexual preference – at their time, they looked very flawed, but in retrospect we see their virtue (even if some want to deny it).

So yes, great virtue does seem flawed. It comes from a deeper source, from contemplation, from trying to get the big picture. We should always expect some moral friction in the world because we’re always re-evaluating things.

I would note, as a warning, that there is “being flawed” and “being performatively transgressive.” A person who’s deep morals come first and just happen to appear as flawed is one thing. Someone going around breaking things and putting on a show is clearly not coming from a deeper place.

And ironically, the performative faux moralist is probably performing “acceptable rebellion” so they’re conforming anyway . . .

-Xenofact

Not Alone Among The Books

As I mentioned several times before, I like to read various Taoist documents as it helps me build a mental “ecosystem.” That ecosystem helps me understand my meditative work, develop philosophical understanding, and better connect to the world. However, I noted another benefit as of late – a feeling of understanding.

I read of historical figures whose tales border on or are legend, often presented by Taoist writers as examples or cautionary tales. I find some of them relatable, in virtues, in flaws, and in experiences. Across the centuries, the aeons, I feel kinship, even in my own mistakes.

There are authors who comment on their experiences, plans, and desires. There, reading a book from a thousand years ago, I get them. I understand what they’re trying to do, what they’re experiencing, and even their mistakes. Sometimes you learn a lot by going “I understand why you said that” and “been there.”

Then there’s all the advice and observations these ancient Taoist writers provide. Timeless stuff, the same observations, even the same issues, are things they wrote about and things I learn about now. It’s not just that it’s useful, someone wrote it down to help others, someone going through what I went through.

Then when you look at these books hundreds or thousands of years old, you realize that you have it because of a chain of scribes and printers transcribing it. Someone made sure you had this book, dipping their pen into ink, arranging blocks on the press. You have that book because of people who did that – and if you’re someone like me, that’s someone like us.

Finally, there’s the translators, some of whom leave their own notes and commentary, sometimes even their own experience getting the book done. These are the people that made sure you can read the book – and make sense of metaphors, cultural tropes, and so on. They did this for a reason.

All these books make me feel not just informed, but less alone. There’s people like me, people who I get and relate to. Whatever wisdom I gain from their works and efforts, I also gain a sense of camaraderie.

Maybe this also explains some of the thrill I get sharing books that matter to me. A book may find someone who connects to it like I do, and there’s one more person feeling that connected to all those who came before.

-Xenofact