The Way of Non-Direction
Insights on Spiritual Direction from the Tao Te Ching
Copyright 1998 by John R. Mabry
This article previously appeared in an issue of Presence: The Journal of Spiritual Directors International.
Often in my ministry I find words from the Hindu Upanishads or the Taoist Tao Te Ching popping into my head, sometimes at exactly the right moment. In ruminating on some of these "little revelations" I have started thinking about what insights other traditions not normally associated with Christian spiritual direction might have to offer to its practice. I have decided to limit my comments to one tradition from which I have drawn much spiritual nurture and counsel: Taoism.
Taoism (pronounced "Dow-ism") is a native religion of
China, and has as its principal scripture the Tao Te Ching, a
book of Chinese philosophical poetry containing 81 pieces, written
sometime between the seventh and the fourth centuries B.C.E. According
to tradition it was written by a quiet librarian named Lao Tzu.
The person who practices Taoism sees one's self as equal to all
other created things, and in fact, gleans all wisdom from observing
nature. Nature is correct. Humans think too much and that gets
us into trouble. Nature reveals the essence of the Tao. The Tao
is a part of Nature, or more accurately, nature is a part of the
Tao; and therefore the Tao is not personified like the Christian
God. It is impersonal, like a principle or a force. This might
sound negative, and irreconcilable to a Judeo-Christian concept
of God, but it is neither negative nor irreconcilable. In fact,
the Tao is God as nature sees God. The sparrow, for instance,
does not have a "personal relationship" with God. She
does not perceive God as a personality but as the very web of
being in which she moves and of which she consists: the wind beneath
her wings, the worm in the ground, the dry sheltered branch in
the storm. Similarly, the Taoist follows this example and perceives
God not as a personal deity, but through the web of his or her
experience of the world and through the nature of things.
By observing nature, the Taoist understands the Way of the Tao,
and seeks to walk in that same way. A person who is generally
regarded as being good at this is often referred to as a "sage,"
whose function was often to guide people into spiritual truth,
similar in some ways to the ministry of the spiritual director.
Like a carpenter who knows that it is easier to saw with the grain
of the wood than against it, the sage knows that when one lives
in cooperation with Nature and the Tao, one's life can be free
from stressful striving, and one can find contentment by resting
in the "Way" things are.
"Sin" in Taoism is going against the grain, and one's
punishment is immediate and in this world: a life of stress and
struggle. "Salvation" is going with the flow, finding
a life of freedom and security, because one knows how the universe
works and can cooperate with it. There is no "guilt"
language in the Tao Te Ching. The Tao's love is universal and
unconditional. It is not for the enlightened only, or the holy
or even the moral. The Tao is there for all. "It is the good
person's treasure," Lao Tzu writes, "and the bad person's
refuge... Why did the sages of old value the Tao so much? Because
when you seek, you find. And when you sin, you are forgiven."
Taoism and the Spiritual Life: Being & Non-Being
The Tao Te Ching speaks of matter and spirit as if they were partners,
one incapable of functioning without the other. Taoists speak
of spirit as "non-being," implying something that exists
in objective reality, but which possesses no physical manifestation,
or "being." Synonyms for spirit/"non-being"
are emptiness and non-existence. Meister Eckhart in the Christian
tradition spoke in similar terms when he said that "God is
a being beyond being and a nothingness beyond being" (Matthew
Fox, OP. Meditations with Meister Eckhardt. Santa Fe: Bear &
Co., 1983).
This unitive vision of spirituality is difficult for Westerners
reared with pervasive dualism. Lao Tzu asks, as if speaking directly
to us, "Being both body and spirit, can you embrace unity
and not be fragmented?" (Poem 10).
To illustrate his vision, Lao Tzu presents non-being as absolutely
necessary for physical realities to "function," and
vice versa, saying "Thirty spokes join together at one hub,
but it is the hole in the center that makes it operable. Clay
is molded into a pot, but it is the emptiness inside that makes
it useful. Doors and windows are cut to make a room, but it is
the empty spaces that we use" (Poem 11).
The first time I read these verses, chills ran down my spine.
I felt that I had been told a great secret that was the most obvious
thing in the world: the relationship between matter and spirit.
One is not dominant. "Existence and non-existence produce
one another." Lao Tzu explains, "Existence is what we
have, but non-existence is what we use."
In addition to non-being, which is thing, or noun-oriented, Lao
Tzu also offers a matching concept which is action, or verb-oriented:
non-action. The Chinese word for non-action is wu-wei. Wu-wei
literally means "not doing," but it has many applications.
With this concept, Lao Tzu speaks directly to 20th century Westerners
and our fast-paced culture. He tells us, "If you spend your
life filling your senses and rushing around 'doing' things, you
will be beyond hope." It is difficult for some of us to slow
down and not feel guilty.
Instead, Lao Tzu asks a difficult question: "When Heaven
gives and takes away, can you be content to just let things come
or go? And even when you understand all things, can you simply
allow yourself to be?" (Poem 10).
Lao Tzu promises, "Who can wait for the storm to stop, to
find peace in the calm that follows? The person who is able to
wait patiently in this peace will eventually know what is right"
(Poem 15).
Slowing down enough to hear the voice of the Spirit, or to observe
the Way of the Tao, is in my experience one of the most important
spiritual disciplines of all. An old joke reminds us that Westerners
say, "Don't just sit there, do something!" while Eastern
wisdom says, "Don't just do something, sit there!"
The value of not-doing is every bit as great as the value of non-being,
or spirit, and the health of our non-being/spirit is utterly dependent
upon our ability to not-do.
Taoism and Spiritual Direction
The Power of Water. The Tao Te Ching concerns itself greatly with
leadership, both political and spiritual. Not surprisingly, Lao
Tzu astounds us with a parable about the power of water:
In the whole World nothing is softer than water.
Even those who succeed when attacking
the hard and the strong cannot overcome it
Because nothing can harm it.
The weak overcomes the strong.
The soft conquers the hard.
No one in the World can deny this
Yet no one seems to know how to put it into practice. (Poem 78)
The ability to be strong in the way that water is strong is a
mystery that Lao Tzu says no one can quite grasp, and yet it is
nonetheless the only way to be truly successful. Even though no
one "knows how" to do it, truly spiritual people seem
to evidence this power without trying: "The sagely person
is like water," Lao Tzu says. "Water benefits all things
and does not compete with them. It gathers in unpopular places.
In this it is like the Tao." (Poem 8)
Learning to be like water involves the practice of wu-wei. Unlike
just learning "not-doing" as we discussed above, wu-wei
calls us to a deeper understanding that might be called "not-forcing."
The Taoist watches nature and sees that what nature does - eroding mountains, growing forests, making rivers, birthing cubs - is accomplished effortlessly. Being one with the Tao, nature goes its own way and forces nothing; and yet grand works and great beauty result. Wu-wei, therefore, isn't inactive at all, but is activity at its most efficient, because it accomplishes without effort. When the sage, recognizing oneness with the Tao, acts upon his or her environment in the spirit of the Tao, then, as Thomas Merton writes,
His [or her] action is not a violent manipulation of exterior
reality, an "attack" on the outside world, bending it
to his conquering will: on the contrary, he respects external
reality by yielding to it... a perfect accomplishment of what
is demanded by the precise situation.
When it comes to the issue of leadership, especially spiritual
leadership and spiritual direction, Lao Tzu asks us pointedly,
"Loving all people and leading them well, can you do this
without imposing your will?" This is a great and important
question for us, who are surrounded by traditions notorious for
spiritual coercion. Unfortunately, we often unwittingly perpetuate
the cycle of coercion. It is easy for us to think that the answers
we have found after our own many years of search and struggle
are the "right" answers for everybody. But Taoism suggests
that, like water, all things simply flow out and return, void
of any notions of "right" or "wrong."
The key to being successful in spiritual leadership, according
to Lao Tzu, is to not try. "Therefore the sage, not trying,
cannot fail," says Lao Tzu. "Not clutching, she cannot
lose." Likewise in our own spiritual lives, "the truly
good person does not try to be good." Goodness needs to come
naturally, effortlessly, like breathing or hearing. The sage is
not concerned with being good, or even with being a good spiritual
director. He or she does not give it a thought. It is not a goal.
The goal is to respond humanely - as a human would - to whatever
situation life gives.
This advice is congruent with the attitudes of other spiritual
directors I know, but I have rarely heard these principles expressed
so clearly or evocatively. Most spiritual directors would not
dream of "forcing" their directees into a practice before
they are ready, nor would most initiate violent interventions
into the lives of their directees. But it is sometimes difficult
to articulate why we believe this.
A gift of the Tao Te Ching is giving us not only words to describe
our experiences, but illuminating what we already know. Lao Tzu
might be speaking specifically about a spiritual director when
he writes, "The sage who leads says: 'I practice "not-doing"
and the people transform themselves. I enjoy peace and the people
correct themselves. I stay out of their business affairs and the
people prosper. I have no desires and the people, all by themselves,
become simple and honest'."
Non-Attachment. Lao Tzu also advocates good spiritual direction
technique by suggesting that we let directees make their own discoveries.
Instead of telling them what they need to know, it is far more
effective for directees themselves to make the associations and
experience the epiphanies. As Lao Tzu says, "The best leader
puts great value in words and says little, so that when his work
is finished the people all say, 'We did it ourselves!'"
It is best for us not to put too much stock in developmental theories
or personality systems, since in pursuing the effectiveness they
offer, they can sometimes blind us to what is going on for directees
in the here and now. Lao Tzu warns: "When you organize, you
must of necessity use names and order. But given that, you must
also know where to leave off naming and structuring. Knowing when
to stop, you can avoid danger" (Poem 32).
It is difficult for us to simply let go of the end result, to
not strive or push a directee, especially if we are impatient
with his or her progress. We may have somehow come to believe
that conversion is an instantaneous occurrence. In reality, however,
this is almost never the case. Conversion is a slow, difficult
process; the seeds that were planted years ago slowly take root,
and even more slowly blossom. Much of the time we may not even
be aware of just when conversion is occurring because in a sense
it is happening underground like the developing seed. As directors,
we need to trust that the Spirit constantly whispers to all people,
and needs little help from us.
We would do well to relinquish our attachment to the outcome of
a single session or even the duration of a directee's involvement
with us. This is difficult because as we sit with people, hear
their struggles, and get to know their foibles, we begin to love
them. We care so much for the people we minister to that we are
often unaware of the ways we attach ourselves to their "progress"
and growth.
Lao Tzu counsels that we should give of ourselves to others without
any hope of success or fear of failure: "The sage makes good
on his half of the deal and demands nothing of others." The
sage is not concerned with getting anything back because with
the Tao all things flow out and return.
This is not to say that we should not care about people; rather
we should not be attached to immediate results. To care, to love,
to invest ourselves in others is part of what makes us human and
holy. Lao Tzu says, "The sage's heart is not set in stone.
She is as sensitive to the people's feelings as to her own. She
says, 'To people who are good, I am good. And to people who are
not good? I am good to them, too.' This is true goodness. 'People
who are trustworthy, I trust. And people who are not trustworthy,
I also trust.' This is real trust" (Poem 49). If we can learn
this kind of trust in the nature of things, I believe we can be
more effective listeners and companions.
Humility. Perhaps the most important truth Lao Tzu has to teach
spiritual leaders is humility. Potential directees come to us
because we are "people in the know," who they often
believe are "spiritually advanced" and able to help
them begin the journey.
The truth, which most if not all spiritual directors know well,
is that we are all beginners; much of what we have come to know
simply reveals how little we actually do know. Lao Tzu tells us,
"Those who know, do not speak. Those who speak, do not know"
(Poem 56). Those concerned about directing with integrity and
holiness find that spiritual maturity simply increases our awareness
of our shared humanity and leads to a more compassionate rapport
with the directee. As the Christian mystic Mechtilde of Magdeburg
says, we should live "welcoming to all," expecting to
learn as much from our directees as we hope they may learn from
us (Sue Woodruff, Meditations with Mechtilde of Magdeburg. Santa
Fe: Bear & Co., 1982).
The goal for any spiritual director is to maintain a genuine and
vital relationship with God and the universe, and then to attend
to others' spiritual lives. Lao Tzu tells us that "One who
is well grounded will not be uprooted. One who has a firm embrace
will not let go."
Both grounding and embracing are essential. Grounded in our tradition,
we will not be led astray; embracing the traditions of others,
we inherit vast wisdom. My spiritual experience as a Christian
need not be divorced from my study of Taoism. Cultivating relationships
with the wisdom of other traditions informs and enriches our practice
in so many ways: by adding to our repertoire of God-images, by
enlarging our understanding of how others experience the divine
presence, and by augmenting our world-view with other models and
potentialities. Nothing external impacts us as greatly as taking
in the wisdom of others - be it a directee's observations or the
great Lao Tzu's - and allowing those seeds to germinate deep in
the soil of our own spiritual garden.
Non-being, non-action, non-attachment, and humility; Lao Tzu promises
that those who cultivate these things "will have true goodness.
Cultivate these in your community, and goodness will catch on.
Cultivate these in the World, and goodness will fill the Universe."
v