74
The executioner
lays down his bloody ax
and walks away.
Lesson # 74
If you do not fear death
then no one can threaten you
with execution. If you live
in constant fear of death,
you will walk the straight and narrow,
always fearing retribution
for breaking someone else’s laws.
The Lord of Slaughter
comes to us all
usually unexpectedly.
That is the natural unfolding
of life and death.
But when you take on the role of
executioner yourself, and willfully
and selfishly shorten
someone else’s lifespan,
expect a wound
never meant to be healed.
From: 81 Lessons from the Tao Te Ching
Number 74 The Grand Executioner
If you do not fear death
then no one can threaten you with execution
If you live in constant fear of death
you will walk the straight and narrow
always fearing retribution
for breaking someone else’s laws
The Lord of Slaughter comes to us all usually unexpectedly
That is the natural unfolding of life and death
But when you take that role on yourself
and willfully and selfishly shorten someone else’s lifespan
expect a wound
that is never meant to be healed
NUMBER SEVENTY FOUR
If the people do not fear death,
How then can you frighten them by death?
But if you cause the people continually to fear death,
And if one of them becomes a great criminal,
Can you take hold of him and slay him?
Would you dare to this?
There is always one, the Executioner, who kills men.
But, on the contrary, if you kill as if you were Executioner,
It would be as if you tried to do the work of a Master Carpenter.
In attempting to do the work of a Master Carpenter,
Few there be who do not wound their own hands.
Isabella Mears, The Tao Teh King, A Tentative Translation from the Chinese, William McLellan, Glascow, 1916.
Number 74 (commentary) Why are men so unhappy?
Most countries groom young men to defend the policies of their aged leaders. When there is no war and no grooming for war, young men wander purposeless and confused. Or they find little wars, in streets or in marketplaces, where they can fight among themselves.
War is such a powerful experience for men because, often for the first time, they are willing to risk their life for something greater than themselves, be that or just the bond that can exist among a band of fellow warriors in dangerous situations. That is the glory that calls them to service and sacrifice. For some, nothing they experience later in their lives will ever compare to it.
And, tragically, when there is a war, major psychological damage is likely to occur (damage that many of them feel but must not be spoken of). Those scars can mold the rest of their lives or end those lives in suicide.
We need another heroic role for young men, besides that of the warrior.
Tangent and Tool #74, Instincts A question and a reflection: “Why do I do what I do?” We pretend to be conscious, choice-making, rational people.
I observe (after more than half a century of working therapeutically with people) that we are primarily instinctual. An instinct is a pre-programmed pattern of behavior triggered by some stimuli in our environment and often experienced as an emotion. All those rationalizations and explanations for our behavior that we experience as justification for our actions are slapped on by our rational ego after we take the action, just to reassure ourselves that what we do makes sense. There are many interesting instincts, not just seven, four, or eleven. There is the conservative instinct that wants safety and predictability and acts for the sake of making today look like yesterday. There is a restless instinct that hungers for the experience of awe. There is the isolating urge to move away from people and separate from everything. There is an aching instinct to find someone else and be seen by them. And there are many more. But the one I want to focus on is the instinct to merge into a group that is seeking a common goal and temporarily forget your own needs, in service to the goals of the group. Be it playing the second violin in an orchestra, screaming your head off at a football game or moving out as the point man of a reconnaissance patrol in the desert, that desire to merge with and serve something greater than yourself is powerful. This instinct can be more powerful than love or hate or the instinct to survive.
The spiritual work is not to rise above our instincts, nor to bind them to our will, nor to succumb to them at all costs. The work is to see them as they naturally arise and stay curious as they sweep through us. And try not to do excessive harm to yourself or others while they pass through you.