Wu-Wei — A Way Of Effortless Action

The Judeo-Christian approach

From a very young age, most of us have been taught that in order to achieve something in life we have to push ourselves daily. Life’s a grind. Without effort and dedication, you won’t get anywhere. In some ways that is true. You can’t learn a martial art without practicing it, neither can you learn how to drive simply by thinking about it. But must you always exert effort? Is it a prerequisite for success?

“Nothing in the world is worth having or worth doing unless it means effort, pain, and difficulty,” says Theodore Roosevelt.

On paper, this statement sounds very plausible. We value people that overcome hardships and thrive in the face of adversity. But would a sane person consciously strive towards a life of hardship and pain? It seems that the idea of suffering is so deeply ingrained in us by our Judeo-Christian upbringing, that we do not believe that there is any other virtuous mode of being besides the one where we have to work hard, persevere, and make sacrifices in order to achieve socially approved goals. The ancient Chinese had a different way of looking at the world. Their whole philosophy was based on an idea that nature is a self-governing organism, which does not need an external ruler (i.e. God in the Christian, Muslim, Jewish on Indian sense) or someone imposing his will on it.

The path of nature

From what I’ve observed, people tend to look at life from one of two perspectives: either they “let life happen”, or they “make it happen”. Might there be a middle ground somewhere in between? What if being parts of a universal process we don’t simply let or make things happen. Instead, we follow along with the flow of existence, making appropriate actions every step of the way. In Chinese, this is called Wu-Wei (無為).

Translated, Wu-Wei means effortless action, doing without trying or simply — not forcing. According to the Taoists, the task of every human is to harmonize his nature with the nature of being (the Tao 道) and to live a life devoid of unnecessary effort or force. Describing Tao, the great Chinese sage Laozi wrote:

“The great Tao flows everywhere,
to the left and to the right…
It loves and nourishes all things,
But does not lord it over them.
And when merits are accomplished it lays no claim to them.”

While reading this passage, a thought occurred to me. If Tao is the energy expressed by the whole of existence, is it even possible not to live in an accord with it? Knowing that Tao flows both to the left and to the right, shouldn’t it flow through me as well? Aren’t my actions and the actions of Tao equivalent? If that is so, why should I bother thinking about harmonious living or the right conduct of action? In his book Approach to Zen Kosho Uchiyama Roshi answers these questions by expressing the following:

“One might well say that, even if we make no effort to let life be, we always live in this process of dependent origination, and we cannot avoid living our true lives. This is indeed so. It is what Buddhism calls Shitsuu bussho — all beings have Buddha nature; that is, all beings have the possibility of realizing life. Yet while we say this, we cannot say that we are always living in the full realization of life. This is because we human beings, unlike the flowers of the field, bear the burden of thought. And thought has a dual character: it is at once the product of life, and yet can think of things floating quite detached from the fact of life.

The doctrine of Dependent Origination

Dependent origination, in Buddhist terms, means that all phenomena arise mutually. Nothing exists independently. There are bees because there are flowers. Where there are no flowers, there are no bees. In the same way, darkness arises because there is light, coldness because of heat, and wiseness because of stupidity. Everything that exists is dependent on something else. This applies to thoughts as well as objects; to individuals as well as the entire universe. Every action ripples in eternity, producing a butterfly effect that we cannot anticipate.

According to Uchiyama, much of human suffering comes about from not knowing our true nature. Lacking attention, our views become distorted. Ignorant of our circumstances, we create a world of thought, instead of living in the world of being. That is why Laozi suggested:

“Watch your thoughts, they become your words;
watch your words, they become your actions;
watch your actions, they become your habits;
watch your habits, they become your character;
watch your character, it becomes your destiny.”

It is proven in physics, that electrons act differently while being observed than when they are not. Similarly, the same appears to happen when we observe our minds. If we watch the appearing phenomena carefully, we see what is without distortion. If our view is drowsy, the entire existence appears as such. Thus, to watch something is to put it in order. Not by any action, just by the mere act of observation. But what should one do if after observing himself a person notices that he hasn’t been conducting his life properly? If his beliefs and actions don’t align with his passions and attractions? Should he drop everything renouncing his old patterns of living? Maybe. But how do we know what is the right way to live? Do we actually know what’s good for us, or do we just think that you do?

“You are a bad boss and even worse employee. You should fire yourself and find someone else to do the job”, says Jordan Peterson.

Maybe that’s right! Maybe we should actually fire ourselves, and let someone else take over. If the thinker is the thought, there has to be something outside of thinking that sparks the whole process. A daemon, in the Socratic sense. A force from within. The force of nature.

Internal fragmentation and wholeness

Taoists don’t believe that there is a definite center from which being emerges. In the same way, they don’t think that there is a personal center (an ego) that governs the body. If that is true, one might inquire — is it possible to live without a center? Without creating a separate thinker, controller, ruler, a censor? If one wants to live a life devoid of strife, he has to be whole, full, undivided within and without. That requires the quality of trust, for we have to let nature handle its own affairs.

Interestingly, one function of Laozi’s book Dao De Jing is to function as a guide to a ruler. Laozi believed that if a ruler knew well how to select his servants, he could delegate important matters to them, trusting that they will act appropriately. Thus, the ability to see the nature of a human being becomes a great necessity. If one didn’t know how to delegate authority, he’d have to remain sleepless, micromanaging every single affair in his realm. But just as one goes to sleep knowing perfectly well that the body will wake itself up in the morning, a ruler trusts his subordinates that they will take the right actions and do the work required. That’s what it means “to rule with intelligence.”

During the 16th century, Philip II lost Spain’s war against England partly because of his obsessive and distrusting personality. Instead of investigating important matters, or delegating authority to others, Philip worried about petty things, such as how far from his room should the bathrooms be. Without the ability to let go of control to competent individuals, he lost the Spanish-English war. As a consequence — Spain has never recovered.

Similarly, if we obsess about every single detail of our own lives we will lose the ability to see it in its entirety. By not having trust that life will turn out the way it is supposed to, we won’t take the leap of faith when necessary.

“Fear stagnation, not adventure” suggests Debasish Mridha.

The greatest adventure of them all is doing something without knowing what the exact outcomes will be. To do the thing just for the sake of doing it. To write because of writing. To walk because of walking. To sleep because of sleeping. If all of us have “the Buddha nature” as our Eastern counterparts say, then awareness is the first step in living in harmony with it. Seeing clearly one becomes clear. On the other hand, having to choose one becomes confused.

“When you are free, you have no choice” — says Jiddu Krishnamurti.

Doesn’t this statement contradict the Western idea of freedom? Freedom lies in having choices, doesn’t it? Krishnamurti explains:

“To be free of all authority, of your own and that of another, is to die to everything of yesterday, so that your mind is always fresh, always young, innocent, full of vigour and passion. It is only in that state that one learns and observes. And for this, a great deal of awareness is required, actual awareness of what is going on inside yourself, without correcting it or telling it what it should or should not be, because the moment you correct it you have established another authority, a censor.”

If one acts in accord with his awareness — there is no effort. He does what he has to do, because he knows that it is what has to be done, right here and right now. There are no questions, no turbulences, no hesitance. One simply acts as he knows that he has to act. That requires a lot of sensitivity to what is presenting itself in the theater of one’s experience, but without such awareness one is left aimless, not knowing where is left, right, back, or front.

For this reason, many great thinkers of the past and present offer us to keep our eyes open and to live in accordance with the facts of living. To be sensitive to immediate circumstances, instead of holding on to rigid ideas and memories. Sensitivity and awareness do not require any action to be taken. Nonetheless, many suggest pursuing a life that is steeped in meditation.

Meditation — seeing life for what it is

For people living in the west, meditation is often seen as a mysterious word, filled with various beliefs of the mystical and the occult. In reality, it’s nothing else than the act of observing the facts of living. It does not even necessarily require one to sit or chant. It simply means to be aware, observant. It is the act of seeing reality for what it is, without a choice, without effort, without striving. Summarized by Jiddu Krishnamurti:

“Meditation is the most extraordinary thing if you know how to do it, and you cannot possibly learn from anybody; and that’s the beauty of it. It isn’t something you learn, a technique, and therefore there is no authority. Therefore if you will learn about yourself, watch yourself, watch the way you walk, the way you talk, how you eat, what you say, the gossip, the hate, the jealousy. If you are aware of it without any choice, all that is part of meditation, and as you go, as you journey, as that movement goes, all that movement is meditation. Then that movement is endless, timeless.”

Thanks for reading!

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