[Music] The origins of Zen are as much Taoist as Buddhist, and because its flavor is so peculiarly Chinese, it may be best to begin by inquiring into its Chinese ancestry. Chinese civilization was at least 2,000 years old when it first encountered Buddhism. China absorbed Buddhism as it has absorbed so many other external influences, not only philosophies and ideas, but also alien populations and invaders. Undoubtedly, this is due in some measure to the extraordinary stability and maturity which the Chinese have derived from Confucianism. Reasonable, unfanatical, humanistic, Confucianism is one of the most workable patterns of social convention that the world has known. Coupled with the "let well enough alone" attitude of Taoism, it nurtured a mellow and rather easygoing type of mentality which, when it absorbed Buddhism, did much to make it more practical. That is to say, it made Buddhism a possible way of life for human beings, for people with families, with everyday work to do, and with normal instincts and passions. Generally speaking, Confucianism concerns itself with the linguistic, ethical, legal, and ritual conventions which provide the society with its system of communication. Confucianism, in other words, preoccupies itself with conventional knowledge, and under its auspices, children are brought up so that their originally wayward and whimsical natures are made to fit the Procrustean bed of the social order. The individual defines himself and his place in society in terms of the Confucian formulae. Taoism, on the other hand, is generally a pursuit of older men, and especially of men who are retiring from active life in the community. Their retirement from society is a kind of outward symbol of an inward liberation from the bounds of conventional patterns of thought and conduct, for Taoism concerns itself with unconventional knowledge, with the understanding of life directly, instead of in the abstract, linear terms of representational thinking. The reason why Taoism and Zen present at first sight such a puzzle to the Western mind is that we have taken a restricted view of human knowledge. For us, almost all knowledge is what a Taoist would call conventional knowledge, because we do not feel that we really know anything unless we can represent it to ourselves in words, or in some other system of communication. To begin to understand what Taoism is about, we must at least be prepared to admit the possibility of some view of the world other than the conventional, some knowledge other than the contents of our surface consciousness, which can apprehend reality only in the form of one thought at a time. There is no real difficulty in this, for we will already admit that we know how to move our hands, how to make a decision, or how to breathe, even though we can hardly begin to explain how we do it in words. We know how to do it because we just do it. Taoism is an extension of this kind of knowledge, an extension which gives us a very different view of ourselves from that to which we are conventionally accustomed, and a view which liberates the human mind from its constricting identification with the abstract ego. The West has no recognized institution corresponding to Taoism, because our Hebrew Christian spiritual tradition identifies the absolute God with the moral and logical order of convention. The important difference between the Tao and the usual idea of God is that whereas God produces the world by making, "wei," the Tao produces it by not making, "wu-wei," which is approximately what we mean by growing. Things which are made are separate parts put together, like machines, or things fashioned from without inwards, like sculptures, whereas things that are grown divide themselves into parts from within, outwards. Because the natural universe works mainly according to the principles of growth, it would seem quite odd to the Chinese mind to ask how it was made. If the universe were made, there would of course be someone who knows how it was made, who could explain how it was put together bit by bit, as a technician can explain in one-at-a-time words how to assemble a machine. But a universe which grows utterly excludes the possibility of knowing how it grows in the clumsy terms of thought and language, so that no Taoist would dream of asking whether the Tao knows how it produces the universe, for it operates according to spontaneity, not according to plan. It is really impossible to appreciate what is meant by the Tao without becoming, in a rather special sense, stupid. So long as the conscious intellect is frantically trying to clutch the world in its net of abstractions, and to insist that life be bound and fitted to its rigid categories, the mood of Taoism will remain incomprehensible, and the intellect will wear itself out. The Tao is accessible only to the mind which can practice the simple and subtle art of wu-wei. It is not simply calmness of mind, but non-graspingness of the mind, signified by wu-xin, literally "no mind," which is to say, unselfconsciousness. It is a state of wholeness in which the mind functions freely and easily, without the sensation of a second mind or ego standing over it with a club. If the ordinary man is one who has to walk by lifting his legs with his hands, the Taoist is one who has learned to let the legs walk by themselves. Each of the other senses might similarly be used to illustrate the non-active functioning of the mind listening without straining to hear, smelling without strong inhalation, tasting without screwing up the tongue, and touching without pressing the object. Each is a special instance of the mental function which works through all, and which Chinese language designates with the peculiar word "xin." We usually translate it as "mind" or "heart," but neither of these words is satisfactory. The difficulty with our translations is that "mind" is too intellectual, too cortical, and that "heart," in its current English usage, is too emotional, even sentimental. {END} Wait Time : 0.00 sec Model Load: 0.64 sec Decoding : 0.75 sec Transcribe: 500.53 sec Total Time: 501.91 sec