Chuang-Tzu

Chuang-Tzu wrote of “that” and “this” in a matter meant to boggle the mind. At first glace, I felt dizzy, but soon realized it could be quite simple. I interpreted “that” to mean one or self and “this” to mean whole, higher-self or God. The labyrinth of words he used to describe the Tao was deep and shallow, wisdom and gobbledygook. I enjoyed trying to keep up.

There were a couple of verses that moved me deeply. They were, “How do I know that loving life is not a delusion? How do I know that in hating death I am not like a man who, having left home in his youth, has forgotten the way back?” And, “How do I know that the dead do not wonder why they ever longed for life?” I’ve attended 9 funerals of very close family members in the last few years and pondered the very same questions. I feel that life is a journey, but not the final destination in my existence, so I don’t have a fear of dying. This life feels temporary, almost like a vacation. Now, a vacation can be fabulous and fun or completely rotten. If it’s rotten, you’re more likely to want it to end because you feel home sick. If it’s fabulous, you don’t ever want it to end. Maybe you even decide to relocate and eventually forget your first home. This may be like the man Chuang-Tzu mentioned that left home and forgot his way back. Either way, this world doesn’t quite feel like home to me, especially since my family has moved. I say moved because it feels strange like they’re on the outskirts of the Milky Way and I can only get my outer-galactic passport and meet them again when I die too. It’s also possible that I’ll be like the atheist who prays to God on his deathbed and finally feel fear of death and intense longing for life on mine.