Next in an occasional series on Daoism
I find people’s stories more interesting than their opinions. Maybe that’s because our stories simply are true, whereas we only think our opinions are true. Or maybe it’s because people are more interesting than abstractions. Whatever it is, here’s a little bit of my story. With any luck, it might be at least vaguely interesting.
I “converted” to Daoism at age 20 or 21. I told the girl I was seeing at the time, “Hey, I’m a Daoist now!” She rolled her eyes: “How long is that going to last?” I said, “I have no idea.” Secretly, I was thinking, “For a long, long time baby!”
Here I am nearly four decades later, still a Daoist.
I was what you might call a seeker. I questioned everything and really wanted to know. I got tidbits of Lao Tzu and Chuang Tzu in a Chinese history class; my sister had given my brother a copy of Gia Fu Feng’s and Jane English’s Tao Te Ching, and a friend of mine had given me a copy of Chuang Tzu. One day, it all just made sense, and I “became” a Daoist. This was around the same time I gave up on knowing. Probably not a coincidence.
I would always fumble around when people asked me, “What does a Daoist believe?” Daoism isn’t big on belief. By the time I came up with a decent answer to that question, people had stopped asking–life is cruel like that. But now I can share my answer with you: “A Daoist believes it doesn’t matter what you believe–what matters is how you live.” So. . .you didn’t ask, but there it is.
How should you live? Well, a Daoist isn’t going to tell you what to do. But to preempt accusations of coyness, I can make a few recommendations I think have a strong foundation in the Dao: Pay attention. Accept everything–even the unacceptable. Give up on control; avoid the use of force if you can. Work with things, rather than against them. Don’t get attached to your opinions. Tolerate not knowing.
What did Daoism do for me? It showed me I could live without knowing. It helped me ease up on my perfectionism. It helped me give up on trying to control things–not least, myself. It helped me tolerate internal experiences I would rather disown. It helped me soften my hard edge. It helped me develop mental flexibility without becoming a blob of spaghetti. As a result of all these things, it has helped me live and love. I was in a deep depression when I “converted.” Daoism didn’t cure my depression. That took therapy, drugs, and a lot of time. But I do think Daoism has helped prevent a relapse.
Did a “thing” called “Daoism” actually do any of these things? Of course not. Maybe you’d say I did them myself and credited some old books. Maybe you’d say the Dao did them with me and the books provided a channel. Maybe you’d say I’m full of it. Maybe you’d even say it was Satan! I say, it doesn’t really matter what we say about it.
Questions:
- What do you think about accepting everything, even the unacceptable?
- Give up on controlling yourself: Is that a recipe for disaster?
- Got a story to tell?