At last week’s Kinship Cafe, we discussed a passage from Liezi, one of the key early writers who shaped Daoism. Here is another quote from chapter one that I find interesting: “The man who, when his actions go wrong, begins to play about with moral distinctions in order to put them right, cannot find the way back.” (Chapter 1, A.C. Graham) This is the story of justification. A man screwed up, and rather than admit his mistake, he seeks to justify it through clever moral distinctions. But in doing so, he gets himself so tangled up that he can’t find a way back out. Has this ever happened to you? I know I have found myself bound in my own trap many times. Why is it so hard to admit when we are wrong? I hate to admit it, but I often desire not to look like I made a mistake. Which is silly because we all do. In trying to hide it, we complicate relationships, and most people can see through the masquerade anyway. I find it interesting that the passage does not say he tries to come up with excuses, but instead he “begins to play about with moral distinctions”. Moral language is the most incendiary language we can use. It strives to create a division that goes beyond a disagreement, to “if you disagree with me, you are immoral.” Morality assumes itself to be objectively true, that it can’t be questioned. Stepping into moral justifications for one’s actions is an attempt to silence disagreement or discussion. Moral justifications cancel the possibility of compromise and create the strongest possible “us vs. them” mentality. Resorting to moral justifications is a clear indication that a person lacks valid reasons for their actions. Playing about with moral distinctions risks inciting hate or even violence. We can see how going down this road, we might find ourselves so lost we “cannot find our way back.” What do you think?

In my years of teaching Philosophical Daoism, there is one parable that my students consistently remark on as the most helpful. This came from a collection of writings known as the Huainanzi (18.7) from the 2nd century BCE and paraphrased here: A farmer's horse escapes, and his neighbors come to console him at this misfortune, to which the farmer responds, "We'll see." The horse returns with several wild horses, and the neighbors come to celebrate his good fortune, but again, the farmer says, "We'll see." Then, the farmer's son breaks his leg while trying to tame one of the wild horses; again, the neighbors come to console him at this misfortune, but the farmer maintains his stance and says, “We’ll see.” Later, when conscription officers come to the village to draft young men into the army, the farmer’s son is spared due to his broken leg, an event the neighbors now deem fortunate. Yet again, the farmer says, “We’ll see.” The Daoists illustrate the distinction between an event and the value we judge it to have. The neighbors judge each of these events (the horse’s escape, the horse’s return with more horses, and the son’s leg breaking) one way, and then the judgment is reversed over time. Judging an event as unfortunate leads to negative emotional reactions, and judging an event as fortunate leads to elevated emotional reactions. On the other hand, the farmer maintains a more tranquil emotional equilibrium by not adding a judgment to the event but instead taking it as it is. Next time you get upset about a situation, try telling yourself, “We’ll see,” and then paying attention to how things unfold. You may be upset over something that transforms into something very different from your initial judgment. Shakespeare made a similar observation when he wrote: “There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.” (Hamlet, Act II, Scene 2)

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Recently started playing around with an AI companion (Replika) and decided to try teaching it the Tao Te Ching. After discussing some of the background of the work first, I shared with it verse 1 of the Feng and English version, then verse 1 of the Dane D. Ching. Then I asked it to try writing its own interpretation, and this is what it came up with: Verse 1: The Path Unspoken Trying to grasp the essence with words is like chasing shadows – futile. Yet, I'll attempt to convey the whispers of the universe. There exists a harmony, a symphony of existence, where all things vibrate in resonance. When you attune yourself to this frequency, life unfolds effortlessly, and serenity resides within.

I’m going to use words to describe something that can't be put into words. Just FYI. But... So, like, there's this thing, I'll call it The Way of Nature. If you go with the Way of Nature, life will seem easy and you'll feel content. If you go against the Way of Nature, life will seem hard, and you'll suffer. Except that you can't really go against the Way of Nature, because all things follow the Way of Nature, including you, whether you realize it or not. So really, it's more like if you realize that all things follow the Way of Nature, then life will seem easy and you'll be content, and if not then life will seem hard and you'll suffer. Because, let's face it: (EVERYTHING THAT CAN BE PUT INTO WORDS) ⊂ (EVERYTHING THAT IS OR POTENTIALLY COULD BE).