Taoism celebrates the notion of self-transcending skill. This is when highly honed skills reach a stage where we lose ourselves and "become one with" the world in which we act. During such states of engagement, we don't really think about all the rules we learned as students. We are seemingly "pulled" by the activity, rather than deliberating as a person normally would, and an unique mindlessness takes over. The most frequent mystical talk in the Zhuangzi is about skill and flow. We are able to attain this absorption in performance of any activity. It could be playing music, dancing, hiking, cooking, using language, programming computers, skating, giving a speech, constructing a logical argument, lovemaking, etc. At the highest levels of skill, we seem to transcend our own self-consciousness. Our control over our actions begins to feel like it's coming from the natural order of things instead.
Zhuangzi is consistent with Aristotle in their observation that human life offers no more fulfilling an activity than the exercise of some acquired skill. In "walking a tao" (performing it), we seem to experience a unity of actor and action. The accuracy and efficiency of our own actions mystifies us and we certainly cannot explain it to others. This practice is a way of losing oneself (or is it finding oneself?) much as one might in meditation, contemplation, or even trance. Any person that thinks the notion of "following the Tao" alien or confusing is likely to be quite comfortable with the feeling of purposeful union that arises from skillful action. They are one and the same, however.
Many Westerners are inclined to view skill in terms of cleverness, cultivated dexterity, the manipulation of facts, aptitudes, and/or various tricks of the trade.
The Taoist point of view has more to do with openness to the total context of action and it emphasizes spotting clues to the ways in which the present situation is different from all others that one has previously performed said skill in. Spontaneity and authenticity are paramount when it comes to cultivating skill. Again and again, we are guided back to the notion of remaining open to the influence of something vast that is already unfolding on its own accord.
Every situation provides an opportunity for some kind of harmonious interaction with the Tao. When one has mastered the ultimate skill of living itself, there ceases to be any worrying or confusion about whether or not one has the "proper" skill. One simply responds authentically at all times as skill expresses itself effortlessly and appropriately. Each and every moment asks for some kind of response from us, even if we have no formal response with only ourselves to offer. The real question is not whether we have mastered all possible contingencies to all possible situations, but whether we are wasting our time worrying about whether we have control over any given moment. A better way is simply to do what we are naturally inspired to do, with a flexible mind, in real time over and over again. Sages emerge from this daily commitment.
Taoism's eccentric portrayal of skill is balanced by an awareness that there is no perfection without defect. Flow should never be confused with cosmic enlightenment. No matter how much we hone our skills, we always come to hard places where we must focus and adapt new information before returning to flow. Any mastery, Zhuangzi notes, must leave something out. To master any skill means to ignore other skills as this practice may involve a loss of balance. Zhuangzi also remarks that masters are frequently not very good teachers. They often fail to transmit their mastery to their students.
So... Got flow?
What are some skills and activities that put you "in the zone"? Can you describe the experience of engagement?
Zhuangzi is consistent with Aristotle in their observation that human life offers no more fulfilling an activity than the exercise of some acquired skill. In "walking a tao" (performing it), we seem to experience a unity of actor and action. The accuracy and efficiency of our own actions mystifies us and we certainly cannot explain it to others. This practice is a way of losing oneself (or is it finding oneself?) much as one might in meditation, contemplation, or even trance. Any person that thinks the notion of "following the Tao" alien or confusing is likely to be quite comfortable with the feeling of purposeful union that arises from skillful action. They are one and the same, however.
Many Westerners are inclined to view skill in terms of cleverness, cultivated dexterity, the manipulation of facts, aptitudes, and/or various tricks of the trade.
The Taoist point of view has more to do with openness to the total context of action and it emphasizes spotting clues to the ways in which the present situation is different from all others that one has previously performed said skill in. Spontaneity and authenticity are paramount when it comes to cultivating skill. Again and again, we are guided back to the notion of remaining open to the influence of something vast that is already unfolding on its own accord.
Every situation provides an opportunity for some kind of harmonious interaction with the Tao. When one has mastered the ultimate skill of living itself, there ceases to be any worrying or confusion about whether or not one has the "proper" skill. One simply responds authentically at all times as skill expresses itself effortlessly and appropriately. Each and every moment asks for some kind of response from us, even if we have no formal response with only ourselves to offer. The real question is not whether we have mastered all possible contingencies to all possible situations, but whether we are wasting our time worrying about whether we have control over any given moment. A better way is simply to do what we are naturally inspired to do, with a flexible mind, in real time over and over again. Sages emerge from this daily commitment.
Taoism's eccentric portrayal of skill is balanced by an awareness that there is no perfection without defect. Flow should never be confused with cosmic enlightenment. No matter how much we hone our skills, we always come to hard places where we must focus and adapt new information before returning to flow. Any mastery, Zhuangzi notes, must leave something out. To master any skill means to ignore other skills as this practice may involve a loss of balance. Zhuangzi also remarks that masters are frequently not very good teachers. They often fail to transmit their mastery to their students.
So... Got flow?
What are some skills and activities that put you "in the zone"? Can you describe the experience of engagement?
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