Hidden But Always Present

Remember autostereograms? They were big in the 1990s. Computer-generated images looking like a kaleidoscope of colored bits shaken into rows and columns. Look at them and you see just the 2D bits. But relax your gaze, let it all go slightly out of focus, and then suddenly you see a 3D image hiding somewhere in the middle. I remember seeing dinosaurs, butterflies, and sharks but there were many others.

The point is that if you sharpen your gaze, even just for a moment, the image disappears. It isn’t like you can only slightly see it. It’s completely gone. Nothing there. Just the 2D colored bits like before. I find autostereograms fascinating. There’s known science behind why they work (if interested, see here) but I won’t go into that.

What’s relevant for the purpose of this newsletter is simply the idea that something can definitely be present, yet at the same time apparently not be there. In short, hidden but always present. This newsletter explores whether the Tao is somehow like that. And, if it is, we’ll then ask how that might affect how we live our lives. Let’s get started.

Lao Tzu makes several references to what the Tao is like. Here’s a good example: “The Tao is like a well: used but never used up. It is like the eternal void: filled with infinite possibilities. It is hidden but always present” (chapter 4). That’s three paradoxes in a row, of which you’ll recognize the third as the title of this newsletter. You may feel like saying “Well, which of the three is it then?” To which the only answer is yes. Hmm, likely accurate but not very helpful.

Let’s step back for a moment. Why might we need help anyway? Well, on days when our life feels like a bit of a struggle, I think we often stare intently at the colored bits and expect them to be something other than colored bits. We want pattern, order, meaning and we don’t get it. Instead, we just see chaotic bits. What’s more, sometimes the colors aren’t even very pretty. So, what’s going on?

Well, several things may be contributing, but I think the main one is expecting that every day should have a pattern we can see. Our experience just isn’t like that. The trouble is that expectation always brings judgment as to whether the expectation is fulfilled or not, and we judge our days as “good” or “bad” accordingly. Does this bring us peace of mind? No, not really.

We may recall “When people see some things as beautiful, other things become ugly. When people see some things as good, other things become bad” (chapter 2). This is Lao Tzu gently reminding us that we’re the ones who make these distinctions. Days are what they are. Do the labels help? No, not really.

Nonetheless, is there more to life than navigating a stream of chaotic colored bits? The Tao Te Ching says yes there is. How so?

I’m going to look at an answer in two parts. First, the idea of a pattern being there all the time whether we can see it or not. Second, the idea that the “stream of chaotic colored bits” is a flow which we can either question and struggle against, or accept and work with.

First, how can a pattern be there and we cannot see it? I think one answer is that we’re often standing too close. We need to stand back, way back. Then, if we still cannot see it, we need to stand even further back. Søren Kierkegaard famously said “Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards,” which means to me that you can only see the pattern in hindsight. And sometimes it seems you need a lot of hindsight.

You may ask, what happens if you stand back as far as you can and you still cannot see it? Here’s where I’ll stick my neck out and say it’s worth exploring what happens when you simply trust that the pattern is there. Think of it as an experiment. Try it and see. I’ll leave it at that.

Second, how do we see the “stream of colored bits” as a flow? Good question. Life often seems to come at us as a rapid sequence of events. It seems we barely have time to handle the first thing when suddenly something new demands our attention. As a result, we feel tossed to and fro—more like whitewater rafting than the flow of being carried by a peaceful river. And it doesn’t feel good when our canoe takes on a lot of water. It feels even worse when it capsizes from time to time.

Does the whitewater originate in our minds? No, not entirely. However, our response to it does. And, to the extent we expect the turbulence not to be there, I think we unwittingly add to it. Here’s another approach. “The Master… lets all things come and go effortlessly, without desire. He never expects results; thus he is never disappointed” (chapter 55).

Well, that’s nice. But does the Master just passively float through life? Does he do nothing? No, not at all. “The Master allows things to happen. She shapes events as they come. She steps out of the way and lets the Tao speak for itself” (chapter 45). Shaping is not doing nothing. “He…” (or she) “…cares about nothing but the Tao. Thus he can care for all things” (chapter 64).

So, now let’s combine the two ideas. What if letting the Tao speak for itself is like letting the image come into focus all on its own, as it were? In other words, what if the hidden 3D image is the flow? This would mean the flow is there all the time, whether we can see it or not.

What if the way to see it is to stop trying to force fit a pattern onto the colored bits and simply relax our gaze? What if we saw the flow not as a chaotic current to be struggled against but rather as a wide peaceful river on which we are being gently carried (whether we know it or not) with our part being to guide and shape rather than to direct and control? Yes, I know that’s a lot of questions. But they’re worth asking.

Here’s a final thought about autosterograms. You cannot see the hidden 3D image by trying. The only way is to relax your gaze. I have a favorite image which I’ve tried showing several times to someone who just can’t see it; they see only the 2D bits. I’m sure they’re trying too hard but it’s not helpful to say so. Perhaps I’m the one who should stop trying so hard to “help” them see it. They’ll just glance at it one day and suddenly notice the image for themselves, and then wonder why they couldn’t see it all along.

Perhaps that’s the way it is with the Tao. After all, “hidden but always present” means it’s always there whether we’re aware of it or not. If it’s there anyway, perhaps our part is to relax into it, let go, and see what happens. “Open yourself to the Tao, then trust your natural responses; and everything will fall into place” (chapter 23). Perhaps everything falling into place is a reference to what happens to the chaotic colored bits when we let go.

What do you think?

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Francis

IN OTHER NEWS...

Past newsletters are here: www.francispringmill.com/newsletter-archive

In Harmony with the Tao: A Guided Journey into the Tao Te Ching is available here. There Is No Somewhere Else: Insights from the Tao Te Ching is available here.

Synopses and reviews for both books are on www.francispringmill.com/books

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