(cc), Bill Anderson, flickr.com(This week’s article is by guest writer Dwayne Schulz. For a brief bio, see below.)
We live in turbulent times. Despite astronomical levels of wealth and scientific knowledge, our global civilization seems further than ever from solving its fundamental problems: wars, destruction of the environment, violence against women, economic destitution, homelessness … the list goes on. We also seem to be entering a new phase of capitalism with those in power doubling down on fossil fuel production, hell-bent on pushing the planet over an ecological cliff. At the same time they are quite openly dismantling democratic culture, flouting the rule of law and human rights whilst embracing ideas that are unashamedly racist and misogynistic. Book bans, genocide, concentration camps, discrimination and imperial expansion are once again the order of the day. And yet talking to my elders and peers, many seem to lack any sense of alarm or foreboding. I am reminded of Christopher Clark’s book The Sleepwalkers about that generation of people in the lead-up to WWI. The title seems to aptly describe our current situation. We also seem to be sleepwalking towards an unprecedented economic, social and environmental catastrophe.
Talking of spirituality in such times may seem irrelevant, even pathological. If you are on a sinking ship your priority should be getting to a lifeboat and helping others rather than meditating on the meaning of life. And yet I think there is a place for spiritual naturalism in all this, a way of looking at things that may give us a sense of perspective and even a degree of hope and courage.
My way into this theme is somewhat tangential. I want to speak about a time 1,300 years ago during the T’ang dynasty in China which lasted from 618 to 907. The T’ang period was a high point of Chinese culture. It was a time of relative prosperity, technical innovation, enlightened government and a flourishing of the arts. Traditional Chinese painting and poetry are considered to have reached unparalleled heights. The two masters of poetry from this period, Du Fu and Li Bai (Tu Fu and Li Po), have a lot to teach us about life even today. Their poems, which range over things like the beauty of nature, the joys of friendship, human folly and the sorrows of personal loss, are moving, philosophically profound and yet have a surprisingly modern ring. Their words have survived through innumerable wars, famines and political upheavals and are memorized by millions of Chinese school children to this day.
Before I get to their poems however, we need to do a bit of scene setting. The capital of the T’ang dynasty was Chang’An which had an astoundingly large population for ancient times – 2 million people. By comparison, Rome at its height had about 1 million people and Constantinople about half a million. Buddhism had been slowly growing throughout China since its introduction almost a thousand years earlier via travelers on the Silk Road. In Du Fu’s time, the Emperor Xuanzong was considered benevolent and wise. He abolished the death penalty, introduced state-run schools and strictly enforced the merit-based system of government bureaucracy. Women enjoyed more rights and status than hitherto. Some wealthy women even enjoyed sports like polo. Religious freedoms were also recognized with everyone from Zoroastrians, Manichaeans, Nestorians, Christians and Hindus to Muslims being guaranteed the right to worship alongside the official religions of Daoism and Chan Buddhism and the philosophy of Confucianism.
Then in 755 it all came to an end. A rebellion led by a disaffected general, An Lu-shan, resulted in a ten year civil war that killed an estimated 36 million people or back then 1/6th of the entire world population! Although the T’ang dynasty eventually triumphed, its empire was much reduced, succeeded by a chaotic period of rival warlords and states known as the era of the Five Dynasties and Ten Kingdoms. Imperial authority was not restored to the same extent until the Song Dynasty some 200 years later.
The poets Du Fu and Li Bai lived through the rebellion and found themselves on the wrong side of various armies at different times. Both were highly educated scholars who were however outsiders, failing to secure ongoing positions in the imperial bureaucracy. They remained relatively poor even though winning a degree of fame in their own lifetimes. The war separated Du Fu from his family for a year and the turmoil eventually led to one of his sons dying of starvation. Despite such privations, Du Fu’s humanity and love continue to shine through his poems albeit tinged by sadness at the loss all around him. Take his “Moonlight Night” about the separation from his beloved wife and children.
Tonight
in this same moonlightmy wife is alone at her window
in FuzhouI can hardly bear
to think of my childrentoo young to understand
why I can’t come to themher hair
must be damp from the misther arms
cold jade in the moonlightwhen will we stand together
by those slack curtainswhile the moonlight dries
the tear-streaks on our faces?
In his “Qiang Village Poems” he celebrates his eventual reunion after having trekked for months through wilderness and a war-ravaged countryside.
From mountainous red cloud
looming in the westa shaft of sunlight
falls on the flat plainmagpies flap and chatter
around the brushwood gateall this is hugely welcome
to such a tired travelermy wife and children
are wide-eyed with surprisethey greet me and of course
must wipe their streaming tearsall of us know these times
whirl families in all directionswe know I’m very lucky
to have returned alivethe neighbours climb their walls
to witness our reunionpretty soon most of them
are blubbering toonight comes
we light some candleslook at each other
wonder if we are dreaming.
We tend to mis-characterize people of the past as less sophisticated because their technology and science were comparatively simple. But their grasp of the human condition was in many ways deeper. The Daoist, Buddhist and Confucian philosophies of the time helped the T’ang poets see the fickleness of human affairs in comparison to the timeless beauty and harmonies of nature, which Chinese civilization idealized and tried to emulate in everything from politics to art. The forest hermit played an important role in this culture as someone truly in touch with the mysteries of existence. Li Bai’s poem “Lines for a Daoist Adept” captures this mood beautifully.
My friend lives on East Mountain
His nature is to love the hills and gorges.
In green spring he sleeps in empty woodland,
Still there when the noon sun brightens.
Pine-tree winds to dust his hair.
Rock-filled streams to cleanse his senses.
Free of all sound and stress,
Resting on a wedge of cloud and mist.
Li was more of a rascal compared to his friend Du Fu. Married four times, a lover of wine and music, Li Bai entertained the Emperor and his court but eventually fell out of favor for his drunken antics. His life was not without pain. He suffered imprisonment, exile and prolonged illness and was also witness to the horrors of war. One of his poems reminds us of the senseless carnage caused by ambitious generals and power-hungry leaders.
We fought for Mulberry Springs
Die now for Garlic River
Wash our swords in Parthian Seas,
Feed our mounts on T’ien Shan snows.
Thousands of miles to and fro.
The Three Armies tired and old.
These Huns kill instead of ploughing,
Sow white bones in desert sand.
Ch’in built the Great Wall.
Han keeps the bright beacons.
These fires never die.
These wars never end.
Hand to hand we fight and fail,
Horses screaming to the skies.|
Kites and crows pick at our flesh
Perch on dead trees with our dead.
We paint the grasses red,
Because our general had a plan.
The sword I say is an evil thing.
A wise man keeps it from his hand.
The T’ang poets speak to us across differences in language and culture, and a thousand years of history. We glimpse something universal in another of Du Fu’s poems when he speaks about his little boy hugging his father’s knees “afraid I’ll disappear again” and his delight at watching his daughters “overdo the rouge and paint on crooked eyebrows” when playing with their mother’s makeup. They help us to see beauty in the midst of chaos, to savor small moments of joy in the full-knowledge of how precarious life and civilization can be. It is also refreshing how they convey profound wisdom without the slightest hint of religious dogma or mention of things like gods, angels, or the afterlife.
__________
Learn about Membership in the Spiritual Naturalist Society
The Spiritual Naturalist Society works to spread awareness of spiritual naturalism as a way of life, develop its thought and practice, and help bring together like-minded practitioners in fellowship.
SNS strives to include diverse voices within the spectrum of naturalistic spirituality. Authors will vary in their opinions, terms, and outlook. The views of no single author therefore necessarily reflect those of all Spiritual Naturalists or of SNS.
__________
Notes:
1. The census recorded 52 million Chinese citizens in 754 but only 16.3 million in 764. See Prateek Dasgupta’s article https://medium.com/teatime-history/the-bloody-8th-century-conflict-that-wiped-out-one-sixth-of-the-human-population-120546475d78
2. Translations from David Young’s Du Fu: A Life in Poetry, 2019, p.28.
3. Translation by A.S. Kline in Like Water or Clouds: The T’ang Dynasty and the Tao, 2000, p.167.
4. ibid, p.189.
Bio: Dwayne Schulz lives in Queensland, Australia, working as a lawyer in the field of Aboriginal land rights. He completed a thesis in 2016 on the thought of Alfred North Whitehead for a Master of Arts in Philosophy at Monash University. His interests include philosophies of life, civilization, indigeneity and environmentalism.
Note: discussion is moderated and comments require approval; this may take some time.