Focus on the Fruit Instead of the Flower
What does good mean, and how can you be a good person?
I remember reading chapter 38 of Tao Te Ching for the first time, and, to be honest, I didn’t understand any of it. Every line is a contradiction from the previous, and I thought there was no logical way to interpret it as anything but nonsense.
I was on a business trip to San Antonio, Texas, and I was sitting by the hotel pool late one evening. My favorite copy of Tao Te Ching, the seminal text of Taoism, rested in one hand while I held a drink in the other. I had not relaxed by a pool since my twenties when I would lay out to get tan, hoping to attract one cute neighbor.
So, now 35 years old and married with three children, I had long given up on how I looked while sitting by the pool and instead focused on the task at hand—studying and learning about Tao. Yet, the one thing I wanted to do, I found myself failing. It was not until years later I could reread chapter 38 and begin to unpack its meaning. Let’s start at the beginning and work our way forward. Rather than use Stephen Mitchell’s interpretation, I want to use Gia-Fu Feng and Jane English’s more direct translation. Their translation helps unpack the true meaning of the chapter, and because of its complexity, I’ll examine the chapter in different parts.
Thirty-eight
A truly good man is not aware of his goodness,
And is therefore good.
A foolish man tries to be good,
And is therefore not good.A truly good man does nothing,
Yet leaves nothing undone.
A foolish man is always doing,
Yet much remains to be done.
It’s important to discuss the Taoist concept of Wuwei (无为). Literally translated to ‘non-action,’ I prefer the translation of ‘effortless action.’ I prefer this translation because everything we do is a choice, even if what we choose is to sit still in a quiet room alone. We might be tempted to call this “doing nothing.” However, since I described the activity with words, clearly, doing nothing means always doing something. The difference is the effort you put into performing your task. The thought of doing something from nothing is key to this passage.
A truly good person does not intentionally try to do good deeds because the goodness flows outward from him naturally, without consciously trying. If I have to work hard at not being mean, then I am mean because I’m fighting my natural tendencies to change who I am. Likewise, a truly good person will, by their nature, be kind, courteous, respectful, and unharming. For example, Michael Jordan, one of the greatest basketball players ever, was once asked how he could play so incredibly well. Michael responded that he “just does”—he feels “in the zone.” It’s not something Michael had to think about explicitly at the moment. Instead, he effortlessly uses his muscles to beat the other player to the hoop, as if the ability flowed naturally. If you read interviews with other athletes or any highly skilled professional, they state the same thing— it just happens. Wuwei. Effortless action. Now, how does a good man act?
When a truly kind man does something, he leaves nothing undone.
When a just man does something, he leaves a great deal to be done.
When a disciplinarian does something and no one responds,
He rolls up his sleeves in an attempt to enforce order.
When a kind man acts, it is effortless. Therefore, he can finish everything that needs to be done. For example, when Michael Jordan played basketball because it always came naturally, he could play to the best of his abilities. When a just, non-wuwei, person acts, he can not accomplish all tasks because he is forcing himself into performing an act that goes against the natural flow of his life— it goes against Tao. If I tried to play professional basketball, I would struggle and lose because I would force myself into a task that did not arise naturally.
When a strict or stern man, the disciplinarian, attempts to force a person into moving against Tao, but no one moves, he becomes angry and attacks. He does this because he can not understand why no one moved. The disciplinarian has no concept of natural flow because he is, by definition, a person who forces the order of society and government onto his people, not the order of nature—Tao.
Therefore when Tao is lost, there is goodness.
When goodness is lost, there is kindness.
When kindness is lost, there is justice.
When justice is lost, there is ritual.
In the following verses, Laozi describes what happens to a person or society when they lose sight of Tao. First, it’s essential to learn Tao is neither good nor bad. I’ve written a more in-depth explanation for this here, but in short, the yin-yang is both yin and yang, yet it’s one object. Therefore, if good is yin and evil is yang, then Tao is neither alone— it’s both. This is what it means when the author Laozi states, “When Tao is lost, there is goodness.” When you lose sight of Tao and only focus on its parts, you discover “good,” but you’re missing the whole.
Laozi then logically walkthrough a chain of events. Goodness, as defined incorrectly by man, becomes kindness—a wrong interpretation becomes another wrong interpretation. When kindness is lost, there is justice because man only focuses on always being good, which is impossible. It’s impossible because there is no such thing as good and evil as separate entities. A person can not always be good, nor can they always be bad. All living things are Tao—both good and evil as a singular individual. Justice arises out of the desire to enforce kindness at all times.
Next, what is a ritual? A ritual is an act you perform hundreds of times for years to ingrain the behavior into your people. Think of it, in this context, as a type of brainwashing. Repetitive tasks enforce the behavior and the implied meaning; therefore, cultures turn to rituals when they can not effectively enforce their rules. In other words, ritual is an attempt to train citizens to believe a viewpoint is true and maintain that viewpoint indefinitely, no matter the consequences.
Now, ritual is the husk of faith and loyalty, the beginning of confusion.
Knowledge of the future is only a flowery trapping of Tao.
It is the beginning of folly.
When a ritual is allowed to take root in a society, it becomes faith and loyalty to the original belief of goodness, no matter what evidence may arise that proves that the definition of goodness is inaccurate. Laozi provides an example of knowledge. Here, he states knowledge is useless.
In fact, in other chapters, Laozi goes to great lengths to show the dangers of obtaining knowledge for knowledge’s sake. This is why knowledge of the future is like decoration on a more significant, more grand work of art. If Tao is the piece of art, then knowledge is the canvas. The art is the paint, but the canvas is only the medium. We should appreciate the canvas but value the paint. Knowledge is the canvas.
Finally, we have reached the conclusion of what happens when we lose sight of reality— of Truth with a capital T.
Folly and ruin.
Therefore, the truly great man dwells on what is real and not what is on the surface,
On the fruit and not the flower.
Therefore, accept the one and reject the other.
So, what do we do? Laozi summarizes by stating that a ‘truly great man,’ a man who follows Tao and the natural order of all things, understands the truth of reality. He understands that concepts like justice, ritual, and kindness are only decorations, not substantiative centers. The wise man lives his life for the fruit produced by the flower. The flower is pretty and smells nice, but the fruit gives nutrients and sustains life. So, too, does Tao. Tao sustains us and gives us life. The flower, or the rules, definitions, and regulations created by man, are pretty and nice, but not the whole. Therefore, we should live for the whole, not concern ourselves with just the pieces or parts.
I was left confused as I finished reading chapter 38—still sitting by the pool. I put the book away and read it again the next day. Honestly, it took studying Taoism much longer until I was comfortable explaining its meaning to myself. Did I accept the fruit, or was I focused on the pretty flower? Did I fall in love with the canvas, or did I love the art?
Is any attempt to understand Tao useless? Why study at all? Should I go live my life and quit reading ancient texts?
It is, indeed, useful to learn and read. Just as it makes me happy to see, smell, and touch a flower’s soft pedals, so does educating myself. It makes life enjoyable and interesting. As long as I remember, knowledge for knowledge’s sake is not my goal. My goal is to live in harmony and peace with Tao, allowing myself to drift along the river and not fight against the current.
This is the ultimate meaning of chapter 38, and now that you know, go live your life.
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