The Book of Tea | Page 9

interesting results the teachings
of their creed. The tale will not be without its quota of instruction and
amusement. It will be rich in anecdotes, allegories, and aphorisms. We
would fain be on speaking terms with the delightful emperor who never
died because he had never lived. We may ride the wind with Liehtse
and find it absolutely quiet because we ourselves are the wind, or dwell
in mid-air with the Aged one of the Hoang-Ho, who lived betwixt
Heaven and Earth because he was subject to neither the one nor the
other. Even in that grotesque apology for Taoism which we find in
China at the present day, we can revel in a wealth of imagery
impossible to find in any other cult.
But the chief contribution of Taoism to Asiatic life has been in the
realm of aesthetics. Chinese historians have always spoken of Taoism
as the "art of being in the world," for it deals with the
present--ourselves. It is in us that God meets with Nature, and
yesterday parts from to-morrow. The Present is the moving Infinity, the
legitimate sphere of the Relative. Relativity seeks Adjustment;
Adjustment is Art. The art of life lies in a constant readjustment to our
surroundings. Taoism accepts the mundane as it is and, unlike the
Confucians or the Buddhists, tries to find beauty in our world of woe
and worry. The Sung allegory of the Three Vinegar Tasters explains
admirably the trend of the three doctrines. Sakyamuni, Confucius, and
Laotse once stood before a jar of vinegar--the emblem of life--and each
dipped in his finger to taste the brew. The matter-of-fact Confucius
found it sour, the Buddha called it bitter, and Laotse pronounced it

sweet.
The Taoists claimed that the comedy of life could be made more
interesting if everyone would preserve the unities. To keep the
proportion of things and give place to others without losing one's own
position was the secret of success in the mundane drama. We must
know the whole play in order to properly act our parts; the conception
of totality must never be lost in that of the individual. This Laotse
illustrates by his favourite metaphor of the Vacuum. He claimed that
only in vacuum lay the truly essential. The reality of a room, for
instance, was to be found in the vacant space enclosed by the roof and
the walls, not in the roof and walls themselves. The usefulness of a
water pitcher dwelt in the emptiness where water might be put, not in
the form of the pitcher or the material of which it was made. Vacuum is
all potent because all containing. In vacuum alone motion becomes
possible. One who could make of himself a vacuum into which others
might freely enter would become master of all situations. The whole
can always dominate the part.
These Taoists' ideas have greatly influenced all our theories of action,
even to those of fencing and wrestling. Jiu-jitsu, the Japanese art of
self-defence, owes its name to a passage in the Tao-teking. In jiu-jitsu
one seeks to draw out and exhaust the enemy's strength by
non-resistance, vacuum, while conserving one's own strength for
victory in the final struggle. In art the importance of the same principle
is illustrated by the value of suggestion. In leaving something unsaid
the beholder is given a chance to complete the idea and thus a great
masterpiece irresistibly rivets your attention until you seem to become
actually a part of it. A vacuum is there for you to enter and fill up the
full measure of your aesthetic emotion.
He who had made himself master of the art of living was the Real man
of the Taoist. At birth he enters the realm of dreams only to awaken to
reality at death. He tempers his own brightness in order to merge
himself into the obscurity of others. He is "reluctant, as one who
crosses a stream in winter; hesitating as one who fears the
neighbourhood; respectful, like a guest; trembling, like ice that is about

to melt; unassuming, like a piece of wood not yet carved; vacant, like a
valley; formless, like troubled waters." To him the three jewels of life
were Pity, Economy, and Modesty.
If now we turn our attention to Zennism we shall find that it
emphasises the teachings of Taoism. Zen is a name derived from the
Sanscrit word Dhyana, which signifies meditation. It claims that
through consecrated meditation may be attained supreme
self-realisation. Meditation is one of the six ways through which
Buddhahood may be reached, and the Zen sectarians affirm that
Sakyamuni laid special stress on this method in his later teachings,
handing down the rules to his chief disciple Kashiapa. According to
their tradition Kashiapa, the first Zen patriarch, imparted the secret to
Ananda, who