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To: alt.magick.tyagi,talk.religion.misc,alt.mythology,alt.philosophy.taoism,alt.magick,alt.consciousness.mysticism From: XiwangmuSubject: Re: Immortality (was My Quest continues) Date: Mon, 03 Sep 2001 07:10:37 GMT 50010902 VI! om mu: >>Chuang Tse is described as banging on pots and pans for a while >>after the death of his wife. no mourning needed. classic stories >>abound regarding the differential of perception of ordinary >>events based on the insight of the sage -- in particular the >>ordinary attaches significance while the sage merely rests with >>the flow of events and accomodates hirself to the actual change. jim_fish@my-deja.com (Jim Fish): >Chuang-tzu mourned at first and then his ability to reason that death >is a natural and unavoidable made him realize that mourning her death >was natural but mourning of itself is useless. > >Everyone goes through stages upon the death of a loved one and in the >end we remember events of living more, and death less. while I could not find the pot-banging story, I did find this one which illustrates something of what I intended in my original post: When Lao Tan [Lao Tzu, reputed author of "Tao Teh Ching"] died, Ch'in Shih went to mourn for him; but after giving three cries, he left the room. "Weren't you a friend of the Master?" asked Lao Tan's disciples. "Yes." "And you think it's all right to mourn him this way?" "Yes," said Ch'in Shih. "At first I took him for a real man, but now I know he wasn't. A little while ago, when I went in to mourn, I found old men weeping for him, as though they were weeping for a son, and young men weeping for him as though they were weeping for a mother. To have gathered a group like *that*, he must have done something to make them talk about him, though he didn't ask them to weep. This is to hide from Heaven, turn your back on the true state of affairs, and forget what you were born with. In the old days, this was called the crime of hiding from Heaven. Your master happened to come because it was his time, and he happened to leave because things follow along. If you are content with the time and willing to follow along, then grief and joy have no way to enter in. In the old days, this was called being freed from the bonds of God. "Though the grease burns out of the torch, the fire passes on, and no one knows where it will end." * * {TRANSLATOR'S NOTE: The first part of this last sentence is scarcely intelligible and there are numerous suggestions on how it should be interpreted or emended. I follow Chu Kuei-yao in reading "grease" instead of "finger." For the sake of reference, I list some of the other possible interpretations as I understand them. "When the fingers complete the work of adding firewood, the fire passes on" (Kuo Hsiang). "Though the fingers are worn out gathering firewood, the fire passes on" (Yu Yueh). "What we can point to are the fagots that have been consumed; but the fire is transmitted elsewhere" (Legge, Fukunaga).} ------------------------------------------------- "Chuang Tzu: Basic Writings", translated by Burton Watson, Columbia University Press, 1964; pp. 48-9. -------------------------------------------- >I sometimes wonder if there isn't a part of the story that is missing: >"The next morning Chuang-tzu awoke and realizing that his wife was not >there with him, he felt a slight sadness that left him even more >quickly than his mourning of the day before..." the next morning Chuang's neighbors came over bringing platters of food (as is the custom for some in the West!), saying "Oh it is so terrible that your wife has died!" his only reply was "Is that so?" that evening while everyone helped to clean up a man knocked on the door and announced that his wife's insurance policy had left old Chuang with a million yen! his neighbors were ecstatic. "How wonderful!" they cried. his only reply was "Is that so?" "Oh!" exclaimed the man offering the insurance money, before signing the final papers, "I thought you were Chuang *Lao*! This money is only for Chaung Lao, not for you!" His neighbors crept out the back door, shaking their heads in despair at his misfortune. his only reply was "Is that so?" that night Chuang smiled as he smelled the dirty bedsheets where only a few nights ago he and his wife had shared close embraces and brief yelps of ecstatic delight, then fell asleep peacefully. mu -- emailed replies may be posted ----- "sa avidya ya vimuktaye" ----- "that which liberates is ignorance" http://www.luckymojo.com/nagasiva.html hoodoo catalogue: send postal address to catalogues@luckymojo.com
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