On sagehood

Sages are sages simply because of the application of the principles of the I Ching. Application of the I Ching is accomplished simply by openness and tranquility. When open, one takes in all; when tranquil, one perceives all. When open, one can accept things; when tranquil, one can respond to situations. If openness and tranquility are continued for a long time, one becomes spiritually illumined.

Book of Balance and Harmony

On myth

When I was young, I could not tell myth from reality. As an adult, I devoted myself to finding truth, both scientifically and philosophically. Now, as an old man, I return to myth. I lament every myth not recorded throughout history, for it is here that we are closest to truth. Whether it is a myth one resonates with or not does not matter, each has something vital to teach us about reality.

Bearing firewood to market in the morning

Bringing wine back at sunset

Where is my home?

It is in the green woods through the clouds.


On kindness

The only kindness worth its name is toward those who do not deserve it. To be kind to those who are good to us comes naturally, even reflexively, to all but sociopaths.

The secret to kindness in this sense is not to be found in the object. By definition, in the moment, they not deserve it. Rather, it is found in the subject. By taking our own nature into account, we realize the sense of indignation can just as easily have arisen from some other source, and the object may be nothing more than collateral damage.

I cannot recall a single, good decision made in anger.

On presence

Having spent most of my life not paying attention to the things that matter, I am keen to learn how to be present. Yet there is a tension: how do we know what is worth being present to? In one sense, when I was young, I was perhaps overly present, just not to the things others around me were. I understood the world of J.R.R. Tolkien, Rush and playing in the woods far better than I did people. Besides having to be home before dark, I don’t recall worrying about whether what I was doing, what I was fully present to (even lost in) was right. It was simply reality.

I suppose what was lost was innocence, though not at the hands of school or work, for one can be present in both. Instead, it was fear–fear of being present to the wrong thing. Daydreamers do not make for productive workers, a lesson reinforced through punishment by teachers and bosses alike. The other decides what is important, and measures you accordingly. Presence is reduced to paying attention, worth equals performance.

Inronically, we not only fail to reject this inversion of sanity, we become adept at it. What matters is not understanding as much as pretending to understand. To succeed (a word whose meaning is inextricably bound to failure as the baseline from which it comes and to which it inevitably returns), we pretend to master what we’re told to. Those who understand not only the material to be paid attention to, but the rules that decide what counts as important, go on to teach others. The small, dying system tries to prop itself up by rewarding those who reinforce its walls and polish the armor.

Yet the universe is immeasurably, perhaps infinitely, bigger. Being present means not being afraid of the consequences of this fact. By definition, there is no important thing to pay attention to, only reality to be open to. Even then, over the longest possible lifespan, we experience only an infinitesimal part. Who are we to make others pay attention to the myopic view from our particular corner? Better to recognize it as such, and be present to the views of each person we do not presently understand.