Dao Philosophy Quotes

When I let go of who I am, I become who I might be.

One gains by losing and loses by gaining.

Like it or not, philosophy or intellectual activity in ancient China was distinguished from manual labor, and thus philosophical texts were not only political in nature (because they normally addressed the issue of good government and social order) but also “esoteric.” They were not meant to contribute to general education, but to be studied only by a small fraction of the population, i.e., by those who had access to learning and power. If we want to understand the Laozi historically, we have to accept this context and thus also the fact that, as a philosophical treatise, it did not attempt to be generally accessible. It was originally a text for the few—and it clearly shows.

What the Daodejing has to offer, on the other hand, is much simpler. It encourages the cultivation of a disposition that is captured in what we have chosen to call its wu-forms. The wu-forms free up the energy required to sustain the abstract cognitive and moral sensibilities of technical philosophy, allowing this energy, now unmediated by concepts, theories, and contrived moral precepts, to be expressed as those concrete feelings that inspire the ordinary business of the day. It is through these concrete feelings that one is able to know the world and to optimize the human experience.

Mandelbrot's insights are reminiscent of the approach taken by the ancient formulators of the Yijing, the Chinese classic Book of Changes, who seem to be the first to arrive at an understanding of interlocking patterns of the human and natural worlds. Their insight was to imagine "a system of coordinates, a tabulation framework, a stratified matrix in which everything had its position, connected by the 'proper channels' with everything else." Chinese philosophers during the second and third centuries would also maintain that the seamless dimensionality in nature is the definitive characteristic of Dao-the way the world is formed and the way it behaves: "Way-making (dao) is the flowing together of all things (wanwu)," and "It is inherent in things that they are ties to each other, that one kind calls up another." Dao, or "way," is in many ways just life itself, the flowing of life, or even the changing world itself. "The flowing together of all things" in the quote above is wanwu, the totality of all that is happening in the world.

The Daoist concept wuwei, which means literally nonaction, but carries connotations of spontaneous, natural, and nonassertive or nondirected action, emphasizes the orderly becoming of the world; it reflects the natural, unconscious, and nondirected action within an anti-teleological process model of the world to which Laozi, the mythical author of the Daodejing, or the Classic of the Power of the Way (also known as the Laozi), refers. The flow of the world (proceeding out of its seamless structure) is Dao in action, or "way-making." The shaping of Dao then is understood as wuwei: in its self-organizing fashion, Dao "really does things non-coercively, yet everything gets done," and "Were the nobles and kings able to respect this, All things (wanwu) would be able to develop along their own lines.

Metaphorically, Daoism anticipates something like the butterfly effect. Way-making (dao) gives rise to continuity, Continuity gives rise to difference, Difference to plurality, And plurality gives rise to the manifold of everything that is happening (wanwu) In Chinese thought, this transformation is called Dahua, the great transformation, a principle that seems to express glimpses of universal evolution.

The sun rises today just as it did thousands of years ago. Similarly, the Tao holds true for us just as it held true for the ancients. We can even say that the Tao works better now than it did long ago, because we don’t have to reinvent the wheel. We can take advantage of the work that ancient sages have done to advance our understanding. We can see farther because we have the good fortune of standing on the shoulders of giants.

Equip your life physically and mentally can reverse your biological age.

The Daoist way requires us to have the ability to challenge our own comfortable paradigm, opening ourselves to other paradigms, responding to unpredictable changes. The notions of order, stability, discreetness, control, sameness, certainty, and permanence should be accompanied by disorder, flux, interpenetration, dispersal, difference, and uncertainty. We don’t invite uncertainty into our lives, yet we can never eliminate it. The world is not about rational control, but natural rhythm. Let’s flow with Dao to live well!

Thus wuwei manifests itself in the adaptive integration of the interacting parts of units of a complex system. The tendency of wuwei is to lead a system toward a state of fractal congruence, a close fitting together, a coalescing, of its significant components. The cooperation of those components facilitates the functioning of the system on its new holistic level. At the highest levels of complexity, wuwei integrates human beings into the systems of the world. This process of integration represents a synergistic enhancement of Dao by empathic human participants in cooperation with nature and with the outgrowths of human nature that have emerged from our evolutionary history and constitute culture. Thus, a fractal self is such a human being who is a participant with others, open to various worlds within nature and culture, and this person becomes a potential facilitator of emergence.

In (Ancient) Greece the search for knowledge was a linguistic endeavor. I suggest that in China, ideas of valid knowing derived in association with the notion of efficacious arts, or daos, and the central questions that lie behind the philosophical enterprise of early China concern control over action and events rather than understanding; the keys to understanding lay in daos rather than in theories.

The way this question was phrased by the leading thinkers of the time was like this: ‘Where is the Way?’ The question of the Way (in Chinese ‘Dao’) is the single most important question that shaped Chinese religious civilization. It is important to appreciate how different this question is from the questions that have shaped Western civilization, namely the questions generated in classical Greek philosophy and Semitic religion. The questions that arose in Greek philosophy, such as ‘What is truth?’ or ‘What is goodness?’ suggest that wisdom consists in understanding fundamental abstract categories or first principles, which can then be applied to specific situations. From these abstract categories emerged the great Western disciplines of logic, metaphysics, law and science. The questions that arose in Semitic religions, such as ‘How may I obey the will of the creator?’ led to a religious life centred on the relationship between one god and a community of believers founded upon commandments and ethical precepts. When approaching Daoism, it is important to understand that Daoism is shaped neither by the categories of logical philosophy nor by the categories of belief in a monotheistic god who created the world out of nothing.

Is it not possible that conscious effort, forcefulness, and opposing action with the apparent natural world are all in fact natural parts of the natural world? In the context of Taoism, could working against the Dao merely be the Dao working against the Dao for the sake of its perpetuation? Perhaps a further step in the logical path of Taoism, and philosophies like it, involves an even greater surrender that doesn’t even permit one to choose or consider if they are surrendering or not. Rather, one is born into surrender. If in Taoism, the relationship of all things is a cooperative, unified whole, even when things appear in conflict, is not human and nature always in cooperation, even when they seem to oppose each other? If darkness creates light, silence creates sound, beauty creates ugliness, good creates bad, does not forcefulness create non-forcefulness? Does not man create nature? Does not consciousness create unconsciousness? Human is part and parcel of nature, and so, how could human act in any other way? How would manmade material or action ever not be natural? Of course, this is just one counter idea that stems from just one interpretation of an elusive mysterious Taoist idea. And to step back on it a little, there is no question that our conscious observations and logic do often fool us, and we are, in many cases, clearly deviating from what’s best when we force or strive for what we think is. Clearly, there are better ways for things to go, plenty of which would go better if we never got involved. Perhaps the only remaining questions are: when should we and when shouldn’t we? And how does one find out without screwing the whole thing up? Perhaps these questions miss the point. Perhaps the point ignores these questions. Of course, like all ideals of philosophy or religion, Taoism’s concepts are likely just that: ideals, ideals that are not without some level of contradiction or general incompleteness on their own. But regardless of this and the potential limits of its applicability, the concepts suggested by Taoism are nonetheless filled with rich insights that provide worthy useful counterweights to the more common, brutish way of mind and culture. The thinking that things must always be a different way, or must go one’s own way for it to be the right way, that there must always be some better ideal around the corner that isn’t or couldn’t be in this moment, right now; that one needs to seek and strive for what they already have and know.