Well that’s a first
a humble beginning
“If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you. If you do not bring forth what is within you, what you do not bring forth will destroy you.”
- Gospel of Thomas
In this (hopefully, somewhat) regular letter, I’ll share some sprinkles of my weekly wanderings through philosophy, culture, art and, well, life. An attempt, perhaps, to bring some order in this chaos of being, to put at ease some ruffled spirits. Mine, at least.
So, looking back at last week, a theme seemingly emerges…
Margaret Atwood once said the plot of our lives begins to appear after we’ve reached the ripe age of thirty.
And indeed, looking back, especially when growing older, themes, or threads, appear. Now, for the first time visible, suddenly, they are inevitable streams. Springing up from an unknown or unknowable source, streaming further into an unknown future. This stream can bring calm, for it eases the ruffled spirit, since the future, although still unknown, now, for the first time, isn’t something one has to create, but something you are led into.
Follow the thread, jump into the river, release the illusion of leading a life and start following what was always already there. The theme of your life, or, looking at the more recent past, the theme emerging out of the seeming chaos of last week.
As far as I can see, this past week had something to do with craftsmanship and mastery.
Here’s why:
In Dutch philosopher and ecologist Matthijs Schouten’s new book ‘Het andere en het eigene’ he mentions qiyun, a Chinese Taoist term that literally translates to ‘the resonance of life-breath’, which is related to something the Zen philosopher Daisetz Suzuki calls ‘the snapping of the ego-boundaries.’
Qiyun.
Interesting.
So then I found myself reading this article by Jerome Silbergeld, where it is explained that qiyun shengdong (translated here as “spirit resonance, life-motion”) is ‘an enigmatic and much debated phrase that means that the painter should endow his work with life and movement through harmony with the spirit of nature.’
The beginning of aesthetic theory in China was another product of the spirit of inquiry and introspection that characterized these restless years. About 300 CE a long, passionate poem, Wen Fu (“Rhymeprose on Literature”), was composed by Lu Ji on the subject of artistic creation. Also from this period, the Wenxin Diaolong (“Literary Mind and Carving of Dragons”) by Liu Xie has long remained China’s premier treatise on aesthetics. It offers insightful consideration of a wide range of chosen topics, beginning with a discussion of wen, or nature’s underlying pattern. Set forth as central to the mastery of artistic expression are the control of “wind” (feng, emotional vitality) and “bone” (gu, structural organization).
(Around) the mid-6th century, the painter Xie He compiled the earliest work on art theory that has survived in China, the Guhuapinlu (“Classified Record of Painters of Former Times”). In this work he grades 27 painters in three classes, prefacing his list with a short statement of six aesthetic principles by which painting should be judged. These are qiyun shengdong (“spirit resonance, life-motion”), an enigmatic and much debated phrase that means that the painter should endow his work with life and movement through harmony with the spirit of nature; gufa yongbi (“structural method in use of the brush”), referring to the structural power and tension of the brushstroke in both painting and calligraphy, through which the vital spirit is expressed; (…) Of the “six principles,” the first two are fundamental, for, unless the conventional forms are brought to life by the vitality of the brushwork, the painting has no real merit, however carefully it is executed; the latter principles imply that truth to nature and tradition also must be obtained for the first two to be achieved. The six principles of Xie He have become the cornerstone of Chinese aesthetic theory down through the centuries.
The importance thus, for the artist to ‘endow his work with life and movement through harmony with the spirit of nature’ and of having a ‘structural method in use of the brush’ through which the vital spirit is expressed. So, the artist needs to be truly in-spired, and have mastery of his craftsmanship.
In ancient Greece there there was an island (forgive me, I have forgotten the details) where artists never signed their art. This appeared ludicrous to them, since they experienced themselves as being vessels through which art was expressed. They were instruments through which inspiration flowed, they opened themselves up to the muses, and followed.
Similarly, Cézanne said: “(the artist) is merely a recording apparatus for sensory perceptions …” and the “shimmering chaos” around us.
If experienced thus, true modesty seems attainable.
Modesty.
This past week I was studying the (Dutch) book ‘Life and work in the rhythm of the seasons’ by Jaap Voigt. Based on the I Ching (an ancient Chinese book of wisdom, also known as ‘the Book of Changes’) it looks into the energy of the different seasons and how that relates to us, humans, beings that are, whether we like it or not, also part of nature.
Looking into September, this comes up:
If a man is free of vanity he is able to conceal his abilities and keep them from attracting attention too soon; thus he can mature undisturbed. If conditions demand it, he can also enter public life, but that too he does with restraint. The wise man gladly leaves fame to others. He does noet seek to have credited to himself things that stand accomplished, but hopes to release active forces; that is, he completes his works in such a manner that they may bear fruit for the future.
The wise man hopes to ‘release active forces’, so that they ‘may bear fruit for the future’: such a humble way of looking at one’s work.
Reading on:
Be an instrument for achieving what impassions you and honor the higher. Keep your personality in check and don’t seek honor. This is the line of inner beauty and a quality that allows the creation of a ‘masterpiece’, as it was called in the time of the guilds.
Again, being an instrument, and also honoring ‘the higher’. This is important. Only by experiencing ‘the higher,’ whatever that may mean for you, can one truly be humble. Experiencing oneself as an instrument, into which the muses may choose to whisper their musings, a man knows himself to be part of the unending creating creation.
Humility has its root in the word ‘humus’, which comes down to the same idea. This may be the inverted idea of being part of something ‘higher’, for we are also part of ‘the lower’. From earth we come, to earth we will return:
“all are of the dust, and all turn to dust again"
In Hebrew, Adam (our dear grandparent from Genesis) means man, and the ground from which he comes, the soil, is ‘Adama’ in Hebrew. Man has its root in earth. We are earthlings.
"Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”
In Chinese philosophy man’s place in the cosmos is in between earth and heaven. We are both. We are higher - inspiration and creator - and we are humus, adama, soil, earth. From this earth, this adama, adam, man appears, infused with divine inspiration.
Now, reading the fifteenth sign of the I Ching:
Modesty
This sign is made up of ‘Keeping Still, mountain’ and ‘Heaven’. The mountain is the representative of heaven on earth. It dispenses the blessings of heaven, the clouds and rain that gather round its summit, and thereafter shines forth radiant with heavenly light. This shows what modesty is and how it functions in great and strong men.
And it continues:
It is the law of heaven to make fullness empty and to make full what is modest; when the sun is at its zenith, it must, according to the law of heaven, turn toward its setting, and at its nadir it rises toward a new dawn. In obedience to the same law, the moon when it is full begins to wane, and when empty of light it waxes again. This heavenly law works itself out in the fates of men also. It is the law of earth to alter the full and to contribute to the modest. High mountains are worn down by the waters, and the valleys are filled up. It is the law of fate to undermine what is full and to prosper the modest. And men also hate fullness and love the modest.
The destinies of men are subject to immutable laws that must fulfill themselves. But man has it in his power to shape his fate, according as his behavior exposes him to the influence of benevolent or of destructive forces. When a man holds a high position and is nevertheless modest, he shines with the light of wisdom; if he is in a lowly positions and is modest, he cannot be passed by. Thus the superior man can carry out his work to the end without boasting of what he has achieved.
Fullness is made empty, modest is made full. This is the law of heaven.
One more line from the I Ching jumps out, now from the passage on ‘Possession in Great Measure’:
All things come to the man who is modest and kind in a high position.
Which parallels the saying of Jesus:
Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth.
And now, Martians.
Some months ago, watching the Netflix series ‘Ozark’, one character is reading a book called ‘The Martian Chronicles’ by Ray Bradbury (the writer most famous for his book ‘Fahrenheit 451’).
It triggered me, so why not read it.
Reading it, this passage jumps out:
(The Martians) knew how to live with nature and get along with nature. They didn’t try too hard to be all men and no animal. That’s the mistake we made when Darwin showed up. (…) And then we discovered that Darwin and our religions didn’t mix. Or at least we didn't think they did. We were fools. We tried to budge Darwin and Huxley and Freud. They wouldn’t move very well. So, like idiots, we tried knocking down religion. (…) We were and still are a lost people.
And these Martians are a found people?
Yes. They knew how to combine science and religion so the two worked side by side, neither denying the other, each enriching the other. They quit trying too hard to destroy everything, to humble everything. They blended religion and art and science because, at base, science is no more than an investigation of a miracle we can never explain, and art is an interpretation of that miracle. They never let science crush the aesthetic and the beautiful.
Trying to be just man and not also animal, or, forgetting the earth, the adama from which we came, it is difficult to connect to our humus, our stuff of origin - the ground of our humility. Bradbury says we couldn’t find a way to mix Darwin and religion. In other words, we couldn’t combine the lower and the higher. We extricated ourselves from heaven, and from earth. We became separated from both, living in a vacuum, which is no place for any living being. For living means being in connection. Living always relates to something else. Life is dependent on the environment, no: life is emergent from environment. From earth, man.
The Martians, combining both religion (heaven) and science (earth) in their lives, stopped trying to humble everything. Which is what the arrogant man does. The opposite of humility, is humbling the other. “I am not earth, I am God”, the arrogant man says.
This brings to mind the line on Modesty in the I Ching:
When a man holds a high position and is nevertheless modest, he shines with the light of wisdom;
Now, the words of Martin Buber from ‘The Legend of the Baal-Shem’ by Martin Buber call out:
There is no room for God in him who is full of himself.
Maybe that sums it up most precisely and poetically. If you are full of yourself, of your own grandiosity, of your own self-congratulating-self, the room is filled, and true inspiration cannot flow through. Emptying yourself, you become a pure instrument of heaven and can experience what already and always is: yourself as part of heaven and earth. As the I Ching says:
Then you complete all you have to do with modesty. True mastery stems from knowing and recognizing your limits.
And so, mastery rears its head again. Even though, looking back, the overarching (or the reverently bowing) theme may be, just may be, modesty. I’m not sure I have recognized my limits but I hope you’ve enjoyed reading these musings. I have enjoyed writing them.
Thank you for reading and please enjoy September, a month of modestly watching your work bear fruit. In the hopes it will indeed be fruitful, the Buddha will now close this thread, reminding us that the master finds joy in giving, and finally returning us to the always present stream:
From the dhammapada:
Chapter 13 - the world
Do not live in the world
in distraction and false dreams,
Outside the law
Arise and watch
Follow the way joyfully
Through this world and beyond
(…)
If you scoff at heaven
And violate the law,
If your words are lies,
Where will your mischief end?
The fool laughs at generosity.
The miser cannot enter heaven.
But the master finds joy in giving
And happiness is his reward.
And more -
For greater than all the joys
Of heaven and of earth,
Greater still than dominion
Over all the worlds,
Is the joy of reaching the stream.
Love,
from,
Louis
Some endeavors, thoughts and threads I didn’t get to:
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In thinking about craftsmanship and mastery two great books came to mind:
Narziss and Goldmund by Herman Hesse
and
The Agony and the Ecstasy by Irving Stone - a great biographical novel on Michelangelo.
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Another character from ‘Ozark’ was listening to a song I didn't know, and is now my most played song of the previous month. Here it is:
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If you are now interested in some 2285 other songs I like to listen to, you could follow this playlist:
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If intrigued by this whole I Ching and seasons thingy, you might want to join the course I give on the subject with my brother in spirit Simon Ohler.
Also, with this same brother in spirit Simon person, a podcast has emerged called Spiritual Mischief. You might like it. The episodes eat up just a bit less of your time than this letter.
Also, here are some (Dutch) programs I have developed with Matthijs Schouten.
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I think I actually have nothing to add now.
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