Introduction
Like so many others, this verse speaks on multiple levels simultaneously. It invites us to consider that the quality of presence we bring into an event is more important than our knowledge or skills. At the same time, it reminds us that discovering our profound center is a carefully refined balance of effort and non-effort.
Translation
Scholars daily gain,
those on the Way daily lose.
Lose and lose again,
until there is nothing left to do.
When there is (y)in-action,
then there is nothing you can’t do.
To hold the world in your hand
always be at peace.
Even if there’s something to do,
It’s not better than holding the world in your hand.
Commentary
Scholars daily gain,
those on the Way daily lose.Lose and lose again,
until there is nothing left to do.
I was recently gifted the share of a Tim Ferris podcast where he spoke with David Whyte. In that podcast, David shares an excerpt from his newest book, Consolations II, that speaks volumes to what these lines mean to me. Here are a few of the opening lines:
“Zen is a centuries-old, glamorous, disguised cover-up inviting us in in each succeeding generation so exquisitely, so quietly, so subtly, so seductively into its grip that we do not, to begin with, have any understanding of what we have become so innocently ensnared by. We do not have a clue as to the way we are being taken in so swiftly and so unerringly into the currents that lead to the edge of our own necessary physical and emotional breakdown. Amidst our hopes for polished wood, serene surroundings, the sound of bells, and the whispered shuffle of bare feet, we always find, to our consternation, that Zen always begins and ends in tears.”
“The first tears in Zen practice are for our bodies, and our restless minds, for our backs, our knees, and for our legs trying to sit upright on those strangely necessary black cushions. The next tears are for our hearts, our emotions, and our previously imprisoned minds. The last tears are for a joy and laughter that, still to our amazement, keeps a friendship and an understanding with our previous griefs. Zen is the journey we take through heartbreak. At the last heartbreak, Zen retires from the field. Zen generously disappears and lets us alone, refusing to let us use the word so freely again, refusing to let us be fooled by what we originally needed to be so enticed by.”
David whyte
In many ways, weaving the Way is a process of undoing the confusions that convince us we aren’t already whole. Returning home and preserving the center is the process of letting each of those precious delusions fade - heartbreaking as it may be.