taoism

Nurturing Not Grasping

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If you’ve done meditation consistently (and my guess is you have), you know that in time things happen. You have insights, you feel different, there’s something there. Oh sure you read about it, you hear about it, but then it happens. You’re a better person for your meditations and it’s kind of a shock.

I mean you kind of hoped for it, but then you’re different. It’s real, it’s not sayings and advice and poems and words. You feel different and the you that feels is different.

But the question is: what’s next? This is something I’ve read several times in my Taoist studies, and I wanted to share some thoughts and insights from my own meditations. I’ve had those moments of insights of “shifts” where you’re a little bit different and you know you’re on the path. There’s something in you that is different, it’s better, but then what?

You can’t seize these moments, these changes, and hold them. You can’t force them to happen, which I think is frustrating to many. If you’re a meditator I’m sure you’ve been here. I certainly have, where a very solid change falls apart when you grasp it.

First, a thing I find helpful to remember is that it’s the meditation that brings you here, those moments of mind resting on breath, the flow of energies, or what have you.. You can’t force these changes, can’t push them but you can keep up the practice that makes them possible. The positive changes you experience are due to the practice making them possible.

The changes you experience – “Signs” is what I’ve seen it called in my Taoist readings – are indicators you’re doing well in meditation. Keep going with the meditation.

But those moments of insight, of feeling better, of feeling aligned, of feeling there’s something in you that’s better? Another useful idea I’ve seen in Taoism is the idea of nurturing and guarding. Taoist writings talk about how one may experience a “seed,” have “the elixir,” develop a “spiritual embryo” and so on at various meditative stages. These are not things to be held or grasped, but guarded and nurtured.

Whatever positive changes (and whatever symbolism you might use for them) you want to nurture them. Not grasp, force, hold, but gently nurture. The exact nature of that may depend on your level of meditation and spiritual path, but it takes gentle work to maintain those “positives.”

I find these are usually a combination of things. Recognizing that you’ve experienced change due to meditation. Maintaining meditation. Understanding behaviors that support these positive changes – ethical and social cultivation.

You also want to avoid destroying these evolutions – guarding them.. This may again be making behavioral and social changes, dietary alterations, and consideration for how your choices affect you. You might even get some insights into how your bad habits harmed before.

I think this is why the physicality of Taoist ideas helps me. Imagining carefully brewing an elixir, nurturing a spiritual embryo, “moving to the center” and so on resonate with me and obviously several thousand years of practitioners. It’s easy to imagine guarding and nurturing a physical thing.

I hope in your practices that you have these changes, these moments. I hope you can maintain your meditations. And I hope you can guard and nurture what you find.

Plus if you want a deep dive into Taoist symbolism, I got some books to recommend . . .

–Xenofact

The Gentle and The Firm

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In my readings on Taoism, I recently read through “Immortal Sisters,” one of Thomas Cleary’s early translations, this one of works by female Taoists. It’s a fascinating read of course, and it’s written by a younger, dare I say feistier Cleary with opinions on certain eras of Chinese history that I believe mitigated with time. However I wish to focus on some writings by famed Taoist Immortal Sun Bu-Er and commentary by Chen Yingning (Cleary has a knack for finding and translating not just documents, but often extensive commentary on the same).

The funny thing was the copy I had I’ve had, as of this writing, perhaps two decades or more. I’d forgotten I had it, and as I was working to expand my Taoist readings, I decided it was time. I found much excellent advice, but one piece stood out in particular.

To show how useful this advice was, let me explain the situation where it helped me.

My meditative practice, as I’ve stated before, is based on The Secret of The Golden Flower, where one rests mind on breath while one tunes breath to be slower and even. It’s a simple process, summarizable in, say, a small handbook. However as any practitioner of meditation knows, the actual experience is one that can be discussed endlessly (as many have).

Trying to rest mind on breath and tune that breath isn’t as simple as it may sound, at least for me. One is trying to tune breath, one is trying to rest mind, one is sitting still, one probably has thoughts arising and so on. In my readings of Taoist literature, I’ve found at least a notable part of the obscure symbolism is useful concepts and approaches to help meditation without spelling it out so much your expectations mess you up.

And the writings of Sun Bu-Er provides to have some extremely helpful advice. The specific section is called “Cultivating the Elixir,” and using alchemical symbolism, it states the following:

“Tuning the breath, gather it in the gold crucible.”

“Stabilizing spirit, guard the jade pass.”

Chen Yingning notes in his commentary (which, as per classic Taoism, is far longer than the things he comments on) that this is about the kind of concentration one uses. Breath requires strong concentration, resting the mind requires gentle concentration.

And, suddenly, I understood meditation more.

There I am tuning my breath – slower and more even all the time. That requires firmness, strength. Your whole body is engaged. That strength ensures a refined breath.

There I am resting my mind – and that is best done gently. We all know what it’s like to force our mind to do things – our mind wrestling with our mind is a painful thing. But when I rest my mind on breath, I can make it gentler and gentler.

It’s firm and gentle, mind and breath, yin and yang – pairings are understandably common in Taoist meditation. A little addition to my understanding of meditation thanks to a modern translator and the writers of the past. A little more for my journey down the path.

That’s a funny thing about meditative practices, about spiritual practices in general. You have to do it, you have to get your hands dirty, and you can’t get lost in scripture and notes and endless spinning thoughts. At the same time you have to read and expand your mind, never think you have the answers – or even all the questions.

It requires a kind of curiosity, a willingness to get into the readings – like a meditation. Be open to surprises.

Just like me with a copy of a book I got decades ago.

–Xenofact

The Joy of Cultivation

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In my various Taoist-infused spiritual meditation. There’s something I noted in both my own experience and in the writings of different teachers, sage, immortals, and weirdos – that there’s a real joy in self-cultivation.

Meditation. Ethical contemplation. Dietary improvement. Self-analysis. Reading and informing oneself. There’s a real pleasure in all of it that I saw in everything from Taoist mystics to Confucian intellectuals to mystics and magicians. I get this, and it’s a joy I think more people could appreciate.

My meditative work, both breath and energy work, help me explore myself, develop myself, understand myself. It’s like refining a metal, gradual work as something beautiful emerges. I sit down and tune my breath and rest mind, or circulate energy, there, in touch with myself – even when a distraction frustrates me at least I’m there, alive.

My meditative work is also about skill development. Tuning that breath and attention. Being aware of the flows of energies. Every day is a chance to improve that skill, every day I’m a little bit better (well, statistically) at what I do.

My meditative studies are fulfilling. To read documents thousands of years old, to analyze symbols and translations, informs me and connects me to others that laid the foundation for me now. Wrestling with symbolism may at times be frustrating (notoriously so in Taoist alchemy) but it is also connecting and energizing. I’m there, understanding, relating, and going “what the heck” just as people have for thousands of years.

I also work on my ethics, my place in society because you can’t escape that – being human. I may be a mystic of sorts, but it’s not in a monastery – indeed I’m of the mind that self-cultivation is best directly in human society if you can handle it. It may be more challenging, but it’s also fulfilling as I am in direct contact with people and can learn more quickly.

My ethical studies and interests also, again, connect me to others. I can discuss with other people so included to self-cultivation, but I also connect with past writers as I read their books. There is something about reading advice from a thousand years ago that is relevant to today that is illuminating and connecting. There’s also something about trying to be a better person and really figure out what to do in this world.

(And at times frustrating, as you’re realizing how many a human problem hasn’t changed. But it’s a frustration that connects me to another frustrated person of centuries ago!)

My mystical work, prayer, theurgy, also connects me to the bigger picture. To think of gods, of the great forces of the world (however abstract or embodied you prefer) is to think of the way the world works. It is to think about the powers that are and what your role in all of it is. It is to ask “where am I in all of this?”

Of course there is the Tao, and it’s hard to discuss the contemplation of that, of the Big Picture. But you get the idea.

And of course there’s questions of diet and ethical diet, of proper use or non-use of certain substances, and so on. That joy of cultivation, of becoming better, connects you to so many things. Even when those things are questioning if you should down a glass of rum (my preferred alcohol) or not.

There is a joy in this cultivation.

This is something I also think is important to modern times – if I may be so bold, needed. Making being actually better part of your life. Not what’s expected, necessarily. Not what’s trendy. But of getting real.

Maybe, as I write this, that’s a joy I should share more. But I suppose writing this is a good start.

–Xenofact