Journal II: Wu-wei
Over the weekend I changed my alarm from 6:30 AM to 6:00 AM and have not quite got the extra half-hour under control yet. Since I moved back home, I have found myself eager to rise. A large bed will do this when one is the sole occupant waking. I changed my alarm to account for the burgeoning summer sun that rises before 6 AM. I want as much of that sun as I can manage. Still, this morning I remained in bed until nearly 7 AM before rushing to arrange myself for work. This is bad practice.
In Daoism, there is a popular concept called wu wei, translating roughly to ‘non-being’ or ‘non-action.’ I will not even try to explain it here. We’re going on two thousand years of trying to understand the concept well. It is easier to practice than to know. Consider the ‘flow state’ of modern terminology. This is approximate to wu wei.
Despite being told that I embody aspects of the practice, I wish I were better with non-being. My issue is attachment to the future. I am often caught an hour ahead of now—or even days. The past is a painted seashell but the future is an impossible seed. There is great pleasure and fear for the future, different than the cold comforts of memory. I am not obsessed with what could be, but it does concern me.
What matters is neither tomorrow nor yesterday, of course. This is not a platitude: it is fact. Meaning is derived from experience and experience can only be had in the present moment. You are reading these words and experiencing them live. How must that feel? Later, you may recall these words but you don’t have to feel anything about them or the experience you recall. If anything, you should then bask in the experience of recalling rather than the recalled experiences (O, the miraculous curse of memory—). This is difficult because we attach so much to memory. What happened is a sentimental portion of our identity. And that’s terribly funny because what happened has no direct impact on our person any more than what happens has an impact on our person (I recognize—of course—that past trauma has enormous consequences; I merely speak of time and being here, not the relationships we carry for our lived experiences). What’s happening is the only place of impact because it is the only place we exist.
Humans are so fortunate to suffer the way we do. To suffer for awareness of time. It aids in our capacity to advance—to be better. I don’t hold myself critically accountable for my attachment to memory or un-memory (the future). These attachments form the juxtapositions that can lead us into better natures (or to our intimate doom). Thus, wu wei is difficult to practice when the contradiction of time suffocates the senses. I want to do a lot this summer. I want to do a lot in my life. What will happen? Where will I find the time? Is this not the time? Today (May 14th) I wanted to do another journal piece, but the reality is that I won’t publish this entry for another five days (May 19th) after writing it (Hello! to the Me of earlier this week—). Behold, my non-action.
Thus it is no surprise that when I wake, it is sometimes difficult to get out of bed. {I’m sure this is an experience totally unique to me and so I apologize for alienating you, Sweet Reader.} When I wake, I am brilliant at non-action, but not wu wei. Ideally, there would be nothing between waking and rising. Truly, there is a host of memory & possibility that arrest the senses. Yesterday is a paperweight and we are India paper in the morning. The dread of the coming hours concerns us. We want sleep. But sleep is not being. So, we must rise.
Amen.