Being hunter gatherers, we are genetically programed to wander. Instinct drives us to search for what we need, be curious about what we find, and worry about not losing what we have. In the wild this primarily means searching for food and avoiding danger. How do these instincts play out when circumstances prevent the full and healthy expression of those drives (i.e., in civilization circumstances)? [chref=46]Too many desires[/chref]!
Right here is an example: I notice, ponder, write down and post these observations. Having [chref=1]desire in order to observe its manifestations[/chref] (of which curiosity is a part) drives this. Alas, desire never brings [chref=33]contentment[/chref], just as worry never resolves uncertainty, and curiosity never answers
the question. Only when I [chref=1]rid myself of desires in order to observes its secrets[/chref] do I feel this. It is a little ironic. I guess that is why [chref=73]even the sage treats some things as difficult.[/chref]
So, my fellow sages, how does this wander 'lust' play out in your lives? Are you ready to [chref=80]return to the use of the knotted rope[/chref]? I am, as long as I don't have to give up modern dentistry.
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Chapter 45
Great perfection seems chipped,
Yet use will not wear it out;
Great fullness seems empty,
Yet use will not drain it;
Great straightness seems bent;
Great skill seems awkward;
Great eloquence seems tongue-tied.
Restlessness overcomes cold; stillness overcomes heat.
Limpid and still,
One can be a leader in the empire.
Read commentary previously posted for this chapter.
After I read 'Great perfection seems chipped,' I looked out the window. There was a cobweb in the corner, the glass was spotted here and there. Beyond were trees and a gloomy overcast sky. The whole scene certainly seemed chipped. To make it perfect, in the normal sense of this word, I would have to go and clean out the web, polish the glass, prune the shrubs, and finally clear the sky to let the bright morning sun shine through - or, I can [chref=16]do my utmost to attain emptiness [/chref] until I see the great perfect present here, now,... always.
Isn't that what this boils down to in the end? Our ideals of perfection are our expectation of how something 'should be'. These ideals of perfection are symptomatic of our disconnection from Nature. Nature is the great perfection I saw out my window: the spider webs, leaves 'messing up the ground', raw and simple, life and death. Nature's great perfection can't be categorized; after all, [chref=67]if it resembled anything, it would, long before now, have become small.[/chref]
We feel disconnected from Nature, and so have great difficulty feeling the [chref=14]the shape that has no shape[/chref]. To be real, it must have a [chref=23]word[/chref], a [chref=32]name[/chref], so that we can catagorize it, [chref=48]meddle[/chref] with it, [chref=46]desire[/chref] it, and assign it a value in a hierarchy of perfection. Nothing is what it seems, and thus we say, [chref=2]The whole world recognizes the beautiful as the beautiful, yet this is only the ugly; the whole world recognizes the good as the good, yet this is only the bad.[/chref] Well, with a world view like that, no wonder [chref=20]my mind is that of a fool - how blank![/chref] And, if you have read this far, I guess that puts you in the same boat. Welcome aboard!
Oh, but don't get me wrong. I'm not suggesting we go walking around in some blissful daze... even if that were possible. After all, as the correlations suggest, that is what death is for - and we won't even have to walk around. Just [chref=10]knowing [/chref] that great perfection is chipped helps lower expectations, and thus smooth some of life's bumpy ride.
We think we have to leave where we live and go to Yosemite in order to enjoy nature. But no. We are nature and so what we create is part of nature, like a bird's nest or a beehive.
It was a very peaceful feeling, not resisting what I had labeled as ugly.