Saturday, April 19, 2014

Chapter 13

“Welcome disgrace as a pleasant surprise.
Prize calamities as your own body.”

Why should we “welcome disgrace as a pleasant surprise”?
Because a lowly state is a boon:
Getting it is a pleasant surprise,
And so is losing it!
That is why we should “welcome disgrace as a pleasant surprise.”

Why should we “prize calamities as our own body”?
Because our body is the very source of our calamities.
If we have no body, what calamities can we have?

Hence, only he is willing to give his body for the sake of the world is fit to be entrusted with the world.
Only he who can do it with love is worthy of being the steward of the world.

We have already seen in chapters 7 and 8 why ‘a lowly state is a boon’ in this world.  The more we struggle and compete with other people the more we invite circumstances to take away what we have.

But in this verse the language goes much beyond a quietist contentment with having less.  Here the sage seems to be suggesting that we should celebrate our debasement as we would a lottery win.  Getting the lowly state is a ‘pleasant surprise’ it says!  Is this not taking things a bit far?

And yet, the truth is, there shall come a moment when we realise that there is a source of pleasure that lies within at any moment we wish to find it.  Winning the lottery is the only apt analogy for such good fortune.  If it weren’t for our lowliness we would never come to such a discovery. 

But continued success in the world, and the thrill it brings only convinces us that this is an authentic source of pleasure.  Why would anyone think to explore the merits of poverty which is so obviously the antithesis of all that we have discovered to be good?

Yes, there is no greater barrier to the understanding of spiritual pleasure than the pleasures of worldly success.

Getting it is a pleasant surprise,
And so is losing it!

Hang on! I’m kind of understanding that debasement might be spiritually edifying…so how can losing debasement, that is, worldly promotion – how can that also be a good thing?

Because once you have truly understood and acquired spiritual pleasure you are whole and complete: free to enjoy the world, free to enjoy heaven.  If I lose all my money and end up on the street – I’ll just go to heaven and enjoy what I find on the inside, in the warm bliss of the present moment.

If I win the lottery, I’ll go right ahead and enjoy the world.  I’ll sail in my yacht and feel the wind on my face, the champagne bubbles on my tongue.  And when the money is gone, I’ll turn back inside.

Everywhere I go, I win.  I am beyond good fortune.  Whatever happens is fine by me: from now on, all shall be to my advantage.

Spiritual realisation would be a poor kind of state, if henceforward we have to go skulking around, hiding from worldly pleasure in case it undermines the treasures we have found on the inside.  And yet, somehow we all expect our saints to behave ‘nice’ and ‘holy’.  Even Jesus’ first disciples were dismayed to see him drinking wine and dancing at the wedding at Cana.  Maybe the Zen Buddhists have the honesty to portray the saint as he actually is.  In the tenth and final stage of the famous ox-herding pictures, the saint is portrayed in the marketplace, getting drunk with the butchers, and spreading the Word.  He is at one with the world, and therefore with all of mankind, in whatever situation he finds himself.

Why should we “prize calamities as our own body”?
Because our body is the very source of our calamities.
If we have no body, what calamities can we have?

Bad fortune only happens to those who imagine they are individuals, trapped in a physical body and living in time and space.  What we call bad is usually imagined to lead to or hasten one or more of three things: death, physical pain, and loneliness.  Surprisingly, it is the latter category which dominates most of our thinking on misfortune.  Loss of love, and of our reputation in the eyes of others is at heart a fear of loneliness – and these are what drive our manic need for status and personal display.

When we realise that we are not individuals trapped in our body, our fear of the above calamities leaves us.  Surely then, if we value our body, we should value the calamities it brings!

The sage is of course being sarcastic.  The truth is, the only possible benefit of a calamity is when it opens our eyes to the possibilities that lie within.  Or to put it another way, only when we have ceased to value our bodies will we cease to be motivated in all our actions by a narrow-minded and egoistic fear.

Hence, only he is willing to give his body for the sake of the world is fit to be entrusted with the world.

The person who believes themselves to be a body is the person who has a body.  And the person with a body is a person who incessantly perverts the natural flow of nature by introducing behaviours based on fear for their body.  And where fear is not the most pressing concern, there are behaviours based on the innumerable likes and dislikes that the person has according to what they consider good and desirable.

The person who is so thoroughly deluded is in no fit state to govern the world.  Their judgement will be compromised at every turn.  Any vision for the common good will, whether they like it or not, be nothing more than a disguise for their own personal good.  The mortal individual is incapable of seeing a perspective higher than their own set of eyes.

The sage, on the other hand, has no particular agenda in mind.  Ultimately any outcome is good for him, therefore he may as well put the people’s true welfare first.  Everyone needs some kind of heuristic; and as he cannot think of himself any longer, he must think for the sake of the collective.  It is only by being neglectful of himself, only by ‘giving his body ofr the sake of the world, can his own self and those of others be handed over to be cared for by the Tao.

Only he who can do it with love is worthy of being the steward of the world.

When one sees through the illusion of the body, the care and solicitude we have does not disappear, but rather gets transferred on to the world as a whole.  The sage loves the world, and all the people in it,  as if it were himself.  Not for the first time, this is reminiscent of Jesus who commanded his followers to ‘love their neighbour as themselves.’  In practice, people imagine that loving family and friends fondly fulfils the requirements in this respect. 

In reality, we can never love our neighbours as ourselves by a mere act of will.  It only becomes possible when we understand that there is no actual difference between them and us.  When this understanding has firmly taken root, then the love that Jesus recommended will flow of its own accord.



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