Take pleasure from what you possess without being attached to these things.
Let go of your identification with your stuff and with your accomplishments. Try instead to enjoy what you do and all that flows into your life simply for the pleasure of doing and observing the flow itself. You literally own nothing and no one: All that is composed will decompose; all that is yours will leave and become someone else’s. So step back a bit and allow yourself to be an observer of this world of form. Becoming a detached witness will put you into a state of bliss, while loosening your tight grip on all of your possessions. It is in this releasing process that you’ll gain the freedom to live out what the Tao is always teaching by example.
Do the Tao Now
Today, practice seeing oneness where you’ve previously seen “twoness” (separation). Feel the invisible energy that beats your heart, and then notice it beating the heart of every living creature all at once. Now feel the invisible energy that allows you to think, and sense it doing the same for every being currently alive.
Contemplate these words from the Gospel of Thomas: “His disciples said to him, ‘When will the Kingdom come?’ Jesus said, ‘It will not come by looking outward. It will not say “Behold, this side” or “Behold, that one.” Rather, the Kingdom of the Father is spread out upon the earth, and men do not see it.’” Today, know that practicing oneness thinking will help you see that Kingdom.
11th Verse
Thirty spokes converge upon a single hub;
it is on the hole in the center that
the use of the cart hinges.
Shape clay into a vessel;
it is the space within that makes it useful.
Carve fine doors and windows,
but the room is useful in its emptiness.
The usefulness of what is
depends on what is not.
Living from theVoid
In this thought-provoking 11th verse of the Tao Te Ching, Lao-tzu cites the value of an emptiness that often goes unnoticed. He explains this idea with images of the hole in the center of a hub, the space within a clay vessel, and the interior area of a room, concluding that “the usefulness of what is depends on what is not.” In other words, separated parts lack the usefulness that the center contributes. This passage invites us to live from the invisible void that’s at the core of our being; that is, to change how we think about it.
Consider the paradoxical term nonbeing as you ponder your own beingness. You’re comprised of bones, organs, and rivers of fluids that are encapsulated by a huge sheet of skin molded to hold you together. There’s definitely a distinctive quality of beingness that is “you” in this arrangement of bodily parts—yet if it were possible to disassemble you and lay all of your still-functioning physical components on a blanket, there would be no you. Although all of the parts would be there, their usefulness depends on a nonbeingness, or in Lao-tzu’s words, “what is not.”
Imagine lining up the walls of the room you’re presently in, with all of the elements present: Without the space of the center, it’s no longer a room, even though everything else is the same. A clay pot is not a pot without the emptiness that the clay encapsulates. A house is not a house if there is no inner space for the exterior to enclose.
A composer once told me that the silence from which each note emerges is more important than the note itself. He said that it’s the empty space between the notes that literally allows the music to be music—if there’s no void, there’s only continuous sound. You can apply this subtle awareness to everything that you experience in your daily life. Ask yourself what makes a tree, a tree. The bark? The branches? The roots? The leaves? All of these things are what is. And all of them do not constitute a tree. What’s needed to have a tree is what is not—an imperceptible, invisible life force that eludes your five senses. You can cut and carve and search the cells of a tree endlessly and you’ll never capture it.
In the first line of this verse, that hole in the center that’s necessary for the movement of the wheel can be likened to the void that’s vital for you to move through in your life. You have an inner state of nonbeing at your center, so take note of what is visible (your body) as well as the invisible essence that your existence depends upon . . the Tao part of you.
The following is what I hear Lao-tzu saying to you regarding this concept of living in the void in today’s world:
Your imperceptible center is your vital essence.
Take the time to shift your attention to the so-called nothingness that is your essence. What does it beckon you toward? The space emanates from the invisibleness that’s responsible for all of creation, and the thoughts that emerge from your inner self are pure love and kindness.
Your inner nonbeingness isn’t a separate part of you, so seek that mysterious center and explore it. Perhaps think of it as a space contained by your physical self, from which all of your thoughts and perceptions flow into the world. Rather than trying to have positive, loving notions, simply be sensitive to the essence of your beingness. The way of the Tao is to allow rather than to try. Thus, allow that essential center of pure love to activate your unique usefulness. Allow thoughts that emerge to enter your
