Exploring Taoism: Insights from Alan Watts

The last four months have pretty much been limited to browsing the internet, listening to music, watching re-runs of old television programs, or meditating in an attempt to make sure my illness didn’t get worse than it already was by worrying about it.  So, even if I had been capable of blogging, I wouldn’t have had much to say or show.  

Before my illness, though, I was reading several books related to Taoism and Tai Chi, two topics I have studied off and on for over twenty years — but still make no claim to having mastered.   I finished several books, but at the time I was more interested in getting outside enjoying Nature and taking pictures of birds than spending time trying to examine what I got from those books.  Now that I can’t get outside as much, it seems like a good time to look back at them and figure out why they continue to appeal to me.

I think Alan Watts is a good place to start learning about Taoism, particularly if you’re interested in it from a philosophical, not a religious. point of view.  I read Watts’s The Way of Zen long before I started blogging, but I only remember reading the book not what it said about Zen,  possibly because I never really got into Zen. Luckily, I’ve enjoyed What is Tao? farmore than I did The Way of Zen, perhaps because I’ve been reading about Taoism since I was in grad school and I been practicing a version of it through Tai Chi for nearly seventeen years, now. 

Watt begins by explaining the importance of Taoism’s shamanic background: 

Taoism has often been described as the philosophy of nature, and it is in this respect that its wisdom most strongly suggests its origins were in the shamanic world of pre-Dynastic China. Living close to the earth one sees the wisdom of not interfering with the course of life, and of letting things go their way. This is the wisdom that also tells us not to get in our own way, and to paddle with the current, split wood along the grain, and seek to understand the inner workings of our nature instead of trying to change it.

It is precisely because Taoism can be seen as the “philosophy of nature” that it resonates with me.  Though I’ve lived in cities my whole life, I am generally happiest when I’m out in nature, either on the water or hiking in the mountains.  I feel more alive there than I do in the city.  I’m not one to believe in a personal  “God,” but there seems to be a spiritual force in Nature that gets lost in the daily grind.  I like to think that the wilderness has its own Chi that resonates and energizes my Chi.

I’m not exactly sure what Watts means by “preordained method,” but even in the Pacific Northwest there are a number of Taoist masters and institutions which offer training in Taoist philosophy.  

Tao cannot be obtained through any preordained method, although those who seek it often cultivate inner calm through the silent contemplation of nature. Taoists understand the practice of wu wei, the attribute of not forcing or grasping, and recognize that human nature — like all nature — is tzu-jan, or “of-itself-so.”

The phrase “all nature is tzu-jan (ziran), or ‘of-itself-so,’” reflects a profound concept from Taoism. The term ziran (??) embodies the idea of spontaneity, naturalness, and self-so-ness. It suggests that the natural world and all phenomena exist and unfold according to their inherent nature, without external interference or force.

In Taoist philosophy, particularly as articulated in works like the Tao Te Ching by Lao-tzu, this principle of ziran encourages us to align with the natural flow of life and the universe. It points to the effortless way in which nature operates — rivers flow, trees grow, and seasons change — all without striving, planning, or contrivance.

Taoist hermits, central figures in the history and mythology of Taoism, embody the Taoist ideal of withdrawing from society to cultivate harmony with nature, simplicity, and spiritual enlightenment.” They practice wu wei, a fundamental Taoist concept, which translates to “non-action,” “effortless action,” or “action without force.” It embodies harmony with the universe’s natural flow. Unlike passivity or laziness, wu wei encourages spontaneous, natural actions, free from excessive effort or resistance.

Watts spends much of his book arguing that the most important idea in Taoism is learning how to act without getting in your own way.

The core of Lao-tzu’s written philosophy deals with the art of getting out of one’s own way, learning how to act without forcing conclusions, and living in skillful harmony with the processes of nature instead of trying to push them around.

Personally, I always thought that living in harmony with nature was the core of Lao Tzu’s Tao Te Ching, butI’m open to different perspectives.  

Watts points out that one reason it is hard to learn to live by the Tao is because the Tao cannot be conveyed through words: 

The word [Tao] has two general meanings. One is perhaps best rendered into English as “the way,” “the way of things,” or “the way of nature.” The other sense of the word means “to speak,” so when the opening words of Lao-tzu’s book [Tao Te Ching] say, The Tao that can be spoken is not the eternal Tao, it makes a pun in Chinese. It says literally, “The Tao that can be Tao is not Tao,” or if you read it like a telegram, “Tao can Tao no Tao.” The first meaning of Tao is “the way,” and the second meaning of it is “to speak,” or in other words,

The way that can be expressed is not the eternal way. 

This point is made in virtually every book I’ve read that tries to interpret the Tao Te Ching or to teach Taoism.  Watts isn’t unaware of the irony of writing several books about Taoism while knowing that there is truly no way to adequately describe it with words.