THE SPACE BETWEEN CONTRARIES
Lessons From Lao Tzu and the “Tao Te Ching”
Written by: Nina Cashman
Learnings from M.A. in Happiness Studies / October 17, 2024
We had just moved to the other side of the busy road, about a mile and a half away from my school.
I was nine during that spring break of 1987. I begged my mom to finish up my fourth-grade year at my current elementary school. She agreed. But to do so, I’d have to get there independently because it was too far to walk. My tenth birthday was right around the corner – I’m pretty sure this set the stage for what was to come.
I always looked forward to the sound of my dad’s 1969 Mercedes driving up the street to visit us. A waft of cigar smoke would trail up our driveway as he blasted the news far too loud. I was especially excited to see my dad on this day in May. It was my tenth birthday, so I knew I’d get a present. To my surprise, my dad greeted me with a flower bouquet – a gesture more suited for a grown woman than a young girl. “Here, take these and go lay them on Tigre’s grave,” he said. Tigre, our dog, who I considered an older brother, had died earlier that year. We buried him in the yard alongside our new house.
“What an odd request,” I thought.
As much as I had loved Tigre, I didn’t want to think about him dying, much less visit his burial site on my birthday! I had two things on my mind and two things only – presents and birthday cake! All I can remember was thinking, “Really, Dad?” I was annoyed. He was adamant.
So, I took the bouquet of flowers and walked out of the house. My brother was with a bunch of kids on our driveway. We were new to the neighborhood, so I didn’t know them well yet – most were boys and older than me. I felt silly walking to my poor dog’s grave with flowers in my hands. In proper form, my dad puffed away on his cigar, signaling the pack of boys to follow us.
So many thoughts were swirling through my mind. “Why are we doing this?” “Why are all these boys I barely know following us?” “Why is everyone smiling?” “Why does my family have to be so weird?” “Ahhh – this is sooOOOooooo embarrassing!” Oh, yes, my head was so full of pre-teen judgment that I couldn’t even see straight.
“There could only be one possibility,” I thought – “They all must be laughing at how ridiculous this is.” My heart was pounding as I stared at the wooden cross in the small mound on the ground. In a panic and fury, I threw the bouquet on the grave and ran back inside as fast as possible.
My birthday had taken an unexpected turn.
In his ancient text, the “Tao Te Ching,” Lao Tzu writes –
“Who can (make) the muddy water (clear)? Let it be still, and it will gradually become clear. Who can secure the condition of rest? Let movement go on, and the condition of rest will gradually arise” ( Lao Tzu, Translated by James Legge, 1891).
To be clear, there is magic in this 10-year-old experience. I didn’t realize then that what I least expected was about to lead to what I would appreciate most. Lessons of trust and openness rest in profound wisdom lying in the space between contraries.
Isn’t it funny how we resist life’s flow when things don’t go our way? A relationship ends, a job is lost, or an unexpected change takes place, and what do most of us do? We resist our circumstances, of course! Fighting, pushing, avoiding, and shrinking, we refuse to accept anything that doesn’t match our firm expectations. So filled to the brim with judgments and expectations, we cannot see the nearby gifts blossoming in circumstances resisted. As highlighted in the video “The Art of Effortless Living (Taoist Documentary)”—
“The unity we seek is already there, but it is only revealed when we trust the world. Changing the world in the hope of discovering unity is like a knife trying to cut itself” (Jason Gregory, 2019).
Oh, but trust is much easier said than done. Especially when we experience hardships that contradict anything we could have expected. Herein, though, lies an empty space of possibility – when what “we want” clashes with what “we get.”
Back to the great Master’s work, the “Tao Te Ching,” Lao Lzu reminds us – “Gravity is the root of lightness; stillness, the ruler of movement.” These profound words are worth a read a few times over.
What if the opposite of your expectation is the root of what could be most appreciated?
Your relationship failed? Welcome to the space of possibility where you practice showing up in new relationships. That job that didn’t work out so well? Now, you have a piece of experience that fits perfectly into another puzzle in a new organization. When things don’t go as planned, we can learn to trust instead of resist. Opportunity is often delivered in forms we don’t expect, so “when you don’t force yourself upon life, you discover that you are life” (Jason Gregory, 2019).
If I had known about Lao Tzu and his great work, the “Tao Te Ching,” when I turned ten, I perhaps could have appreciated the beauty of contraries my dad was delivering that day.
Maybe I could have seen that by commencing my dear dog’s death on my birthday, of all days, I was about to delight in something unexpected.
As I sat in the cloud of my childish embarrassment, my dad patiently returned for me. This time, his hands were empty, and my mind was open to trusting his desire to head back to Tigre’s grave. By now, all my expectations had been cried away – the vessel was now hallowed. As Lao Tzu writes –
“The thirty spokes unite in the one nave; but it is on the empty space (for the axle), that the use of the wheel depends. Clay is fashioned into vessels; but it is on their empty hollowness, that their use depends.” (Lao Tzu, Translated by James Legge, 1891).
We walked back outside.
The audience of smirking boys now absent, I found myself back at the little mound on the ground, looking down at the wooden cross on my dead dog’s grave on my tenth birthday. I lifted my head, and then I saw it. A wave of joy overcame me. There, leaning against the brick wall in the space between our yard and house, was a brand new, turquoise mountain bike draped in birthday bows.
Grinning from ear to ear, I proudly rode that bike every morning a mile and a half away and across the busy road to my school for the remainder of fourth grade. To this day, I am reminded that
“where the Mystery is the deepest is the gate of all that is subtle and wonderful” (Lao Tzu, Translated by James Legge, 1891).
References
Gregory, J. (2019). The Art of Effortless Living (Taoist Documentary) [YouTube Video]. In YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IuDY8m72tgk
The Internet Classics Archive. (1891a). The Internet Classics Archive | The Tao-te Ching by Lao-tzu. Classics.mit.edu. https://classics.mit.edu/Lao/taote.1.1.html
The Internet Classics Archive. (1891b). The Internet Classics Archive | The Tao-te Ching by Lao-tzu. Classics.mit.edu. https://classics.mit.edu/Lao/taote.2.ii.html