Taoism

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.)

Bad Knowledge

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I’ve been fascinated by Taoism in all its breadth for nearly three decades. Under this umbrella you’ll find philosophy, medicine, folk religion, meditative practices, and plenty of accumulated and purged bullshit. You’ll also find some interesting thoughts on knowledge that are thought-provoking – or just provoking.

The philosophical classic the Tao Te Ching has sections that seem to question the value of knowledge while praising the values of simplicity and emptiness. Taoist battles with Confucians – famous for rules and rites one must memorize – are legendary and sometimes hilarious. Taoist mystics both craved understanding and secrets on attaining the Tao, but also loved simple lives and avoiding complication. Taoism in general seems to ask the question “hey, is knowing things always a good thing?”

As a person who craves information these writings and riddles and tales often bedeviled me. I loved learning new things, but also could see how pointless rituals and rules could mire one in unreality. I craved to know but also saw how one’s head could be the equivalent of a messy room.

I mean I got the iddea of meditating and avoiding over-stimulation. But questioning knowledge? Well that I sort of got – and sort of wondered if Taoists overdid it or if some of it was just famous Taoist humor that I didn’t get.

Then this year, while reading a translation of the Tao Te Ching I hadn’t seen, I suddenly “got” that yes, indeed, knowledge can be bad in some circumstances. For that I would like to thank various podcasts on conspiracy theories and mystical bullshit, and of course, a good chunk of the internet.

How many people fill their heads with conspiracy theories, elaborate nonsense that solidifies both their bigotries and ignorance? Ensnared in complex falsehoods (often promoted by grifters), they “know” what is right and can easily commit, assist, or ignore atrocities. Their “knowledge” means they know less than someone ignorant of their twisted beliefs.

Some people pick up religious and spiritual practices from assorted scammers and self-deluding messiahs. Diving into “ancient” practices invented a handful of years ago, they occupy themselves with spiritual exercises that are neither. Their “knowledge” takes them nowhere – and is in fact, a weight that holds them back.

And finally there are the people with heads full of information where, shall we say, they overestimate it’s value. If you’ve ever watched  people in a battle of fandom trivia or obscure facts, you get the idea. Some of this knowledge may be fun, but people take it way too seriously – which distorts the more important fun part.

Some knowledge isn’t all that, well, knowledgeable.

Sure, we may know about bad things like the above. I find great value in studying conspiracy theories to understand people and to understand dangers. But this is a kind of selective knowing, a knowing that is guarded.

So now, in part, I get the Taoist ideas that knowledge isn’t always something that’s good. One has to consider the value of the information, of the space it takes up in one’s head, and what one does with it. Just knowing isn’t always a benefit, and in some contexts is an outright negative.

And yes, I appreciate the irony of contemplating the value of knowing means I know the value of not knowing. Which, come to think of it, does fit the famous irony and humor of the Taoists, so I’m good with that.

– Xenofact