Theme 5.1

When the springs dry up

(from Chapter 6)

Fish thrive together in water,
people thrive together on the path.        
Those who thrive together in water meander about the pond and their nourishment is provided.
Those who thrive together on the path have no business to attend and their livelihood is assured.
And so it is said:
Fish forget each other in the rivers and lakes,
people forget each other on the ways of the path.

~

When the springs dry up and the fish are left stranded together on the land, panting at each other with humid breath, moistening each other with spit, it’s not as good as forgetting each other in the rivers and lakes.
Everyone’s praising Yao* and condemning Chieh* isn’t as good as forgetting both and changing with the path.

*  *  *  *  *

I once worked with troubled youth. These young people were often verbally and physically aggressive towards me. Sometimes this aggression didn’t bother me; I experienced feeling calm amid the storm and was able to navigate the behaviours with the same ease with which I navigate a pothole when riding a bicycle. At these times my brain was silent and I was energetically present and attentive. My actions arose spontaneously from somewhere inside me, somewhere beneath the level of conscious judgment and planning.

Sometimes, however, this aggression did get to me. In those moments I’d be thinking judgmental thoughts; thoughts like: ‘You little shit. This is just bad behaviour.’ (How dare there be a pothole. This council is incompetent beyond belief!) My body was tense and my mood agitated. My brain busy with words, busy trying to work out what to do, how to get these defiant kids to do what I wanted them to do. Meanwhile—bump! Kethump!

When the aggression didn’t bother me, I was like a fish wandering the rivers and lakes. I had no agenda, no business to attend, aside from engaging with the presenting circumstances.

When the aggression got to me, I was like a fish stranded on dry land. Desperate for water, my colleagues and I would pant at each other with humid breath, panting our rules and standards. We would huddle together and moisten each other with spit, telling each other how good we are and how bad these badly behaved kids are. Praising Yao and condemning Chieh.

Of course, when you’re a fish stranded on dry land it’s only natural to pant and spit. This is your ego crying out in panic: I’m about to asphyxiate. I need moisture, now!

The trick is to realise that the ego is mistaken. Instead of panting and spitting, a better way to find moisture is to slip into the rivers and lakes.

How to slip into the rivers and lakes? How to find the path?

Find the pivot of the path, where neither this nor that finds its counterpart (Chapter 2.4), where you forget right and wrong, Yao and Chieh.

Be the cook unravelling the ox (Chapter 3.2). He has no business to attend, no agenda to push. He lets his administrative thinking stop and his daemon’s longing go forth, entering the space between things, allowing them to unravel along their natural seams.

Allow things to unravel in this way and the new arrangement will nourish you. Your livelihood is assured.

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