The Tao Te Ching.
It's probably one of the most famous books in the world. Its history is a little fuzzy. We know it's an ancient Chinese text, but other than that, there is no definitive date of when it was written or even who it was written by. It is generally thought to have been written by Lao Tzu, the philosopher and founder of Taoism, sometime during the 4th century BCE, but no one knows for sure.
Loosely translated as "The Way," the Tao is thought of as a guide to the universe.
If it seems like a lot—it is. And if it seems like it's an awfully short book (it's only around 5000 Chinese characters or 85 pages of English text) to cover all that is (and is not), you are correct.
My introduction to the Tao Te Ching came about sort of randomly. About a decade ago, I was training for a marathon. (I decided to do a marathon after watching my husband do an Ironman Triathlon. Look it up; a marathon seems entirely doable after watching an Ironman.) However, jogging is not something that comes particularly naturally to me. To help pass the time and keep me motivated, I listened to music on an mp3 player. However, after a few weeks of listening to the same songs over and over (my training jogs were often two or three hours), I decided I would listen to audiobooks.
Audiobooks in 2007 were still a relatively niche market, and they were pretty expensive. So, to save money, I'd borrow books on CD from the library, convert them to mp3's, and listen to them during my longer jogs.
The audiobook selection at the library was limited. It was mainly classics and, oddly, a pretty good selection of Wayne Dyer books. Wayne Dyer is a big fan of the Tao Te Ching and references it often in his books. So this was my introduction to the Tao.
After my third or fourth Wayne Dyer book in which he referenced quotes from the Tao, I decided I wanted to check it out for myself. I eagerly ordered a copy and waited for it to arrive.
Much to my dismay, once I got my hands on it, it made no sense to me. I could read the words, but they didn't mean anything to me. So I put it away on the bookshelf.
Over the next couple of years, I would periodically pull it off the bookshelf and give it another try. I thought, "Maybe it will make sense to me now." It didn't, and back on the bookshelf it went.
Finally, after hearing the Tao referenced by pretty much every modern day philosopher/spiritual teacher I came across, I decided I needed to really try and understand it. I didn't want to just learn a few quotes—I wanted to read it in its entirety.
So I decided I would copy it out.
I'm a visual learner. I've always used something like flashcards to help me memorize things. It helps me to write things down, because having to write things out slows me down. It forces me to really see (and in my head, hear) each word. And the mechanics of writing things down helps me absorb the information.
I also thought that maybe just focusing on little bits of the Tao would keep it from feeling overwhelming.
As I mentioned, the Tao Te Ching isn't very long. It's 81 brief chapters or sections. Each chapter has a theme and, depending on which translation you are reading, the chapters may have different titles.
I'm a journal writer. I usually write in my journal several times a week. There have been times when I was traveling that I didn't write much, but over the years, I've been fairly consistent.
So I decided I would copy a chapter of the Tao Te Ching each day into my journal. I didn't worry about whether or not it made sense, and I didn't try to analyze it. I just copied the words. And if I didn't feel like copying a chapter on a particular day, I didn't. I tried to not make it into more than it was.
I did this for several years.
Then one day, I realized that what I was copying made bit of sense to me. A particular chapter on a particular day resonated with me. Slowly but surely, more and more of it made sense to me every time I copied it.
I have probably copied the entirety of the Tao Te Ching seven or eight times. I get to the 81st chapter, and I take a break from copying it for a few weeks, or even a few months, and then I start over again at chapter 1.
To this day, I can't say that I feel as if I totally understand the Tao Te Ching, but it's become a comforting ritual for me. When I'm feeling particularly anxious, I sit and copy a chapter of it down. And as I copy a chapter, I now underline whichever line stands out to me on that particular day.
Here's one of the chapters that I particularly like (copied from Wikipedia):
Emptiness
We put thirty spokes together and call it a wheel;
But it is on the space where there is nothing that the usefulness of the wheel depends.
We turn clay to make a vessel;
But it is on the space where there is nothing that the usefulness of the vessel depends.
We pierce doors and windows to make a house;
And it is on these spaces where there is nothing that the usefulness of the house depends.
Therefore just as we take advantage of what is, we should recognize the usefulness of what is not.
I love how this reminds me that what is not there, or what is not seen or what is not said, can be just as impactful as what is there, or what is seen or what is said.
When I was teaching dance I often told my students that the beauty of dance is in the stillness as much as in the movement.
And I find comfort in knowing that concepts that helped explain life and the universe thousands of years ago still make sense today. Neither modern technology, psychology, or sociology have changed the essential essence of the human experience.
Each day that I sit and copy the ancient words of the Tao Te Ching, I find that little bits of wisdom reveal themselves to me.
(Note: I have also copied Bible verses and quotes, but I haven't yet tried to copy the entire Bible because it's...well...it's really, really, long.)
Here are a few questions I asked my mom about the Tao Te Ching:
I assume you have read it...
You assume correctly!
What do you think of it?
I first read it many years ago and, guess what? It didn’t make any sense to me either! But, like you, I was intrigued by it. What you did—writing it down—was a stroke of genius in my opinion. That’s a great way to internalize something so that it reveals its meaning to you.
I did something completely different, but it had the same effect. After striking out at understanding it despite reading it several times, I bought five translations. I’d pick a chapter and read it in each of my five books. They were all slightly different since translations always reflect the translator’s sensibilities.
Doing this allowed me to, in effect, make my own translation. I was taking those five translations and making a sixth one, only mine was a translation of English not Chinese! Doing this, I slowly came to understand the Tao Te Ching better, although some of its chapters still remain obscure to me. But that’s okay. I don’t need to understand everything.
By the way, I love the chapter on Emptiness that you included.
Do you have a favorite translation?
My favorite translation is Stephen Mitchell's because he used contemporary language so it's accessible to me. Speaking of the Bible, Mitchell also translated the Book of Job and I recommend it highly too.
And Mara, I loved your essay. I had no idea you've been copying out verses from this book all these years.
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