Tao te ching_ annotated & explained - Derek Lin [4]
“Would such advice apply to me, Master?”
“Certainly. The scope may change but the Tao remains constant no matter who you are. Royalty or commoner—it makes no difference to the Tao.”
Lao Tzu began working. He leveraged his prodigious memory and understanding to create one concise chapter after another. Each chapter was a highly refined distillation of a major principle, a notable book, or a discussion with the king.
Finally, it was done. Lao Tzu gave Yin Xi the manuscript. Yin Xi could not believe it. What he held in his hands was King Wu’s private library condensed into a compact form. He felt as if Lao Tzu had squeezed all the treasures in the royal vault into a diamond and handed it over to him.
Lao Tzu said his farewell, mounted the ox and continued on his way. Yin Xi called out after him, “Master! How can I thank you for this gift? Will I ever see you again?”
Lao Tzu smiled back at him and answered, “This gift is a dead thing, too. In that respect it is no different from other books. Remember: you can make it come alive by putting what it says into actual practice. When you do so, you will see me … in the Tao.”
Yin Xi looked on as Lao Tzu receded from view. Neither one of them realized that the gift was destined to become a spiritual cornerstone, not just for the Chinese but for all humankind. Neither one realized that one of the most significant events in human history had just taken place. This typical day at the Hangu Pass … turned out to be not so typical after all.
The Origin of the Tao
This story of Lao Tzu at the pass is both memorable and useful for clearing up a number of points about the Tao and Taoism. Perhaps the most common misconception encountered by Westerners is that Lao Tzu himself was the founder of Taoism—which he was not. By the time Lao Tzu walked the Earth 2,500 years ago, the concept of the Tao had already been an integral part of Chinese culture for thousands of years. As the story puts it, Lao Tzu was looking to get away, not found a movement; by writing the Tao Te Ching, he was simply honoring a request to pass on the learning and knowledge of those who had preceded him.
The Tao Te Ching itself contains references to “ancient masters” or “masters of antiquity,” terms referring not to Lao Tzu’s contemporaries, as we may at first assume, but rather to people who were as ancient to him as he is to us. Two such ancient masters were Huang Ti (Pinyin Huangdi) and Fu Hsi (Pinyin Fuxi; pronounced Fu Shi). They were among the earliest rulers of China who lived more than 4,700 years ago—at least 2,200 years before Lao Tzu. Huang Ti has always been closely associated with the early form of Taoism, and Fu Hsi was the originator of the yin-and-yang concept.
Furthermore, it is interesting to note that Lao Tzu did not intend to write an expression of original ideas. Instead, he summarized existing ideas and teachings to create an overview of prevailing concepts. We know from Chinese oral tradition that one of Lao Tzu’s primary sources was the library of King Wu. Although this library had an impressive collection, it still did not possess every notable book known to the ancients at that time—after all, King Wu was not the emperor of China, but only one of many lords vying for that title. Therefore, Lao Tzu’s overview was almost comprehensive, but not quite.
In time, other sages of ancient China understood what Lao Tzu was trying to accomplish, and over the next seven centuries they added to his work wherever they noticed gaps. This gave rise to the historically verifiable fact that multiple early versions of the Tao Te Ching existed. Each was a work in progress as the sages who came after Lao Tzu changed a few words and shifted the order of the chapters. This process continued until about 1,800 years ago, when noted scholar Wang Bi consolidated the myriad editing changes and finalized the compilation.
These multiple versions of the Tao Te Ching have led some modern-day scholars to theorize