Capacity

Rain is falling outside the window, softening the hard soil, as needed, for example, by the newly planted seedlings in our “colossal pollinator garden,” a vital niche in life on earth. This rainfall is also required for raspberries, blueberries, and blackberries to fill and sweeten, and it’s wanted further on throughout all the burgeoning summer growth for continued nourishment. 

     Thunder now rumbles overhead with a reminder of the potential power of water, referenced in the Tao cited below as the weakest or softest, yet capable of galloping through the strongest.

The weakest in all beneath heaven gallops through the strongest, 

and vacant absence slips inside solid presence. 

I know by this the value of nothing’s own doing. 

The teaching without words, 

the value of nothing’s own doing: 

few indeed master such things.

[from p. 83, David Hinton. The Four Chinese Classics: Tao Te Ching, Analects, Chuang Tzu, Mencius. Kindle Edition] 

     James Legge translates line 2: “that which has no (substantial) existence enters where there is no crevice” and comments “Ho-shang Kung says that ‘what has no existence’ is the Tao; it is better to understand by the insubstantial air which penetrates everywhere, we cannot see how” (p. 87, The Texts of Taoism). The passages on Tao extend understanding of emptiness attended in previous blog entries. 

     The closing line notes that “few indeed master such things.” Being able to live like this, in harmony with the Way, which might also be understood as living by the Spirit, is perhaps the ultimate goal of a life well lived, mastered by “few in the world,” certainly worthy of dedicated focus. And very interestingly, the way is made not by brute force but marked by the “weakest” (Hinton’s translation in line 1), by the “softest” (as Legge and Nasr translate the opening line).

     Nasr also comments on the last line: 

“Only the sages and a selected few comprehend teaching without words and the possibility of acting without acting [wu wei ] and put them into practice. Understanding this truth is not possible for everyone” (p. 123, S.H. Nasr, A Sufi Commentary on the Tao Te Ching: The Way and Its Virtue).

     While the understanding referenced in this text may be quite demanding, current conditions indicate that such work is crucially needed.  Jim Palmer has been writing eloquently about the urgency of developing such capacity.  

"A person’s ability to tolerate uncertainty, remain present during grief, sustain belonging, exercise restraint, or stay grounded when familiar structures collapse … Capacity often becomes visible only when circumstances become difficult. It reveals itself not through performance but through what a person can carry without avoidance, fragmentation, or retreat into illusion." 

Palmer explains how the collapse of structures (especially including organized religion) calls for significant investment in nurturing existential health, like the soft strength of rain, because the well-being of individuals today is confronted by a flood of troubles.

"Questions once answered collectively become questions individuals must answer for themselves. What gives life meaning? Who am I? How should I live? What should I believe? What matters? How do I face suffering? What makes life worth continuing when certainty disappears?

Modernity did not solve these questions.

It privatized them.

The result is a profound transfer of responsibility from external structures to the individual. Increasing numbers of people are being asked to carry psychological and existential responsibilities that previous generations often shared with religion, culture, family, community, and tradition. Yet society rarely pauses to ask whether people possess the capacities necessary to meet these demands.

This may be one of the defining developmental challenges of our age."

Infinite Mystery

Several threads seem weaving into some indefinable mesh that yet might collectively be contemplated within the theme of “infinite mystery.” Almost any deep reflection in the overlapping worlds of social history, personal experience, religion/theology/spirituality, and contemporary political activity butts into the inescapable quagmire of theodicy: How can suffering fit in a design made by an all-powerful and all-loving God?  Perhaps, among other possibilities, this problematic condition paradoxically pushes a kind of vitality, a relentless impulse toward further development, toward trying to know more even when admitting the hard awareness that the ultimate foundation must be the Unknowable. Just perhaps it’s this complex that generates the energy needed for living in perplexity which includes an essential grace of protection, a slight safety from presumption, a safety that draws from continuous confession of surrender and into forgiveness. 

     This perspective on the mesh, possibly on a tapestry not primarily made by human hands, seems more viewable in the field of emptiness (discussed in the preceding post).  Reading on from Waddell’s Zen Words, (quoted in that post), let's consider D.T. Suzuki’s Manual of Zen Buddhism as it further elaborates on One Mind:

“It has been in existence since the beginningless past; it knows neither birth nor death; it is neither blue nor yellow; it has neither shape nor form; it is beyond the category of being and non-being; it is not to be measured by age, old or new; it is neither long nor short; it is neither large nor small’ for it transcends all limits, words, traces, and opposites. It must be taken just as it is in itself; when an attempt is made on our part to grasp it in our thoughts, it eludes. It is like space whose boundaries are altogether beyond measurement no concepts are applicable here.” (p. 112)

     Additional threads coming in today include items shared by Jim Palmer’s Center for Non‑Religious Spirituality and from Richard Rohr’s Center for Action and Contemplation.  From the Center for Non‑Religious Spirituality:

"The great spiritual discovery is not merely that you are loved. It is that love is more original than the self you spend so much energy defending. It precedes your achievements, your failures, your beliefs, and your fears. The journey is not toward earning love, finding love, or securing love. It is toward recognizing what has been true from the beginning.

The journey is not toward earning love, finding love, or securing love. It is toward recognizing what has been true from the beginning: that you have always existed within it. The ground you have been searching for is the ground on which you already stand. And at your deepest level, beneath every identity, every wound, every role, and every belief, love is not only what holds you. It is what you are." [citing Jim Palmer, Notes from (Over) the Edge]

     Also in today’s meditation from Richard Rohr’s Center for Action and Contemplation: 

“a radically different understanding of spirituality. The central question is no longer whether we can convince God to love us. It becomes whether we can awaken to the love that is already present before belief, before doctrine, before identity, before any attempt to prove our worthiness. Love is not something added to existence. We emerge from it, live within it, and participate in it whether we recognize it or not."

     These meditations reinforce a convergence that continues to build in my post-midnight wonderments that strangely reassuringly probe and assert that the bounds and textures of Love permeate with the Infinite Mystery. Surely, the final answer (as one is allowed to approach it) is Love; of course, the “love that surpasses knowledge” (Eph 3:19). And, again, while the overthrowing of the rational mind feels disconcerting, some comfort also comes from the resonance of having survived this apparent calamity before. For example, in the puzzling combo of know/not-know. 

So the big realities recur in such a unity: God, Self, Mind… The midnight whisper says “Walk on. Go slowly…or not…" 

For as The Center for Action and Contemplation notes:

"I’m not in control or in charge of this Holy Mystery. I don’t presume to understand it; all I know is that I’m forever being drawn through everything. Each manifestation or epiphany of God calls for surrender, communion, and intimacy.”