He'll come in sounding as though he's in mid-sentence or something like that, but he isn't. Material. But our culture is by and large devoted to the transformation of material into junk as rapidly as possible. God's own junkyard. And therefore it's a very, very important lesson for a wealthy nation and for rich people. And we are all colossally rich by the standards of the rest of the world. It's very important for such people to learn and see what happens to material in the hands of people who love it. And so you might say that in Japan, and in China, but in Japan in a peculiar way, the underlying philosophy of life is a spiritual materialism. There is not the divorce between soul and body, between spirit and matter,

[01:06]

between spirit and nature, or God and nature, which there is in the West. And therefore there is not the same kind of contempt for material things. We regard matter as something that gets in our way. Something whose limitations are to be abolished as fast as possible. And therefore we have bulldozers and every kind of technical device for knocking it out of the way. And we like to do as much obliteration of time and space as possible. We talk about killing time and getting there as fast as possible. But of course as you notice in Tokyo, and as you are noticing here, the nearer it gets to you by time, by the abolition of distance, the more it's the same place from which you started.

[02:09]

And so this is one of the great difficulties. What is going to happen to this city and this country when it becomes the same place as California? In the same way, in other words, you could take a streetcar from one end of town to another and it's the same town. So if you could take a jet plane from one city to another and everybody is doing it, not just the privileged few, then they're going to be the same town. So to preserve the whole world from indefinite Los Angeles-ization. Pardon me those of you who are from Southern California. But we have to learn in the United States how to enjoy material. And to be true materialists instead of exploiters of material. And so this is the main reason for going into the philosophy of the Far East and how it relates to everyday life, to architecture, to gardens, to clothes,

[03:15]

and to the higher arts of painting, peace ceremony, music, sculpture, ritual, and so on. Well now, basic to all this is the philosophy of nature. And the Japanese philosophy of nature is probably founded historically in the Chinese philosophy of nature. And that's what I want to go into to start with. To let the cat out of the bag, right at the beginning. Hmm. The assumptions underlying Far Eastern culture, and this is true as far west as India also, is that the whole cosmos, the whole universe is one being. It is not a collection of many different beings who somehow floated together

[04:20]

like a lot of flotsam and jetsam from the end of space and ended up as a thing called the universe. They look at the world as one eternal activity. And that's the only real self that you have. You are the works. Only what we call you as a distinct organism is simply a manifestation of the whole thing. Just as the ocean, when it waves, it's the whole ocean waving when it waves. And the whole ocean when it waves it says, you, I'm here, you see. So each one of us is a wave of all that there is, of the whole work. And they don't, you see, this is in this culture not something that is just a theory. Not just an idea, like you would have, I have my ideas, you have your ideas. In other words, you're a Christian scientist, I'm a Baptist, or something like that.

[05:23]

Or I'm a Republican and you're a Democrat, and I'm a Bircher and you're a Communist, something like that. It isn't that kind of thing, it's not an opinion. It's a feeling. And so the great, the great men of this culture, not everybody, but the great men, the great masters of whatever sphere they're in, are fundamentally of this feeling. That what you are is the thing that always was, is and will be. Only it's playing the game called Mr. Takano, or Mr. Lee, or Mr. Mukopadhyaya. That's a special game it's playing. Just like there's the fish game, the grass game, the bamboo game, the pine tree game. They're all ways of going, you see, everything's doing a dance. Only it's doing it according to the nature of the dance.

[06:24]

That is fundamentally all these dances, whether human, fish, bird, cloud, sky dance, star dance, etc. They're all one fundamental dance, or dancer. Only in Chinese you don't distinguish the subject from the verb. I mean you don't distinguish the noun from the verb in the same way that we do. A noun can become a verb, a verb can become a noun. But that's the business. And so a civilized, cultured, above all an enlightened person in this culture, is one who knows that his so-called separate personality, his ego, is an illusion. Illusion doesn't mean a bad thing, it just means a play. From the Latin word ludere we get English illusion. Ludere means to play. So the Sanskrit word maya, meaning illusion, also means magic, skill, art.

[07:30]

And this Sanskrit conception comes through China to Japan with the transmission of Buddhism. And so the world as a maya, or sometimes as it's called in Sanskrit lila, our word lilp, lila, is play. So all individual manifestations are games, dances, symphonies, musical forms, being put on by the whole show, and everyone is basically the whole show. So that's the fundamental feeling. Now, but nature, nature as the word is used in the Far East, doesn't mean quite the same as the word nature in the West. In Chinese, nature, the word we translate nature, zi ran, or in Japanese shizen, is made up of two characters that first one means of itself, and the second one means so.

[08:38]

What is so of itself? Now this is a rather difficult word to translate well into English. We might say automatic. But automatic suggests something mechanical. When a Chinese coolie was supposed to have seen a tram car for the first time, he says, no pushy, no pulley, go like mad. But this mechanical idea of the automatic won't properly translate this word zi ran in Chinese, shizen in Japanese. Of itself so, what happens, as we say, what comes naturally? It's in that sense of our word nature, to be natural, to act in accordance with one's nature,

[09:42]

not to strive things, not to force things, that they use the word natural. So, when your hair grows, it grows without your telling it to. And you don't have to force it to grow. So, in the same way, when the color of your eyes, whether it's blue or brown or whatever, the eyes color themselves, and you don't tell them how to do it. When your bones grow a certain way, they do it all of themselves. And so, in the same way, I remember a Zen master once, he was a beautiful man. He used to teach in New York, his name was Mr. Sasaki. And one evening he was sitting in his golden robes, at a very formal throne-like chair, with a fan in his hand, no, actually he had one of those fly whisks made of a white horse's tail. And he was looking very, very dignified.

[10:43]

Incense burning on the table in front of him. And there was a little desk with one of the scriptures on it that he was explaining. And he said, All nature has no purpose. Purposelessness, most fundamental principle of Buddhism. Purposelessness. When you drop fart, you don't say, at nine o'clock I drop fart, it just happens. All this kind of audience is expecting a little churchy scene. Stuck their handkerchiefs in their mouth. So, what happens of itself? Now, so then, it's fundamental to this idea of nature. That the world has no boss. This is very important, especially if you're going to understand Shinto.

[11:50]

Because we translate kami, or shin, as God. But it's not God in that sense. God in much of the western meaning of the word, means the controller. The boss of the world. And the model that we use for nature, tends to be the model of the carpenter, or the potter, or the king. That just as the carpenter takes wood, and makes a table out of it. Or as the potter takes inert clay, and with the intelligence of his hands, evokes a form in it. Or as the king is the lawgiver, who from above tells people what order they shall move in, and how they shall behave. It is ingrained into the western mind, to think that the universe is a behavior,

[12:56]

which is responding to somebody in charge. And who understands it all. When I was a little boy, and I used to ask my mother many questions. Sometimes she'd get fed up with me. And say, my dear, there are some things in this life that we're not just meant to know. And so I said, well, what about it? Will we ever know? Well, she said, yes, when you die and you go to heaven, God will make it all clear. And I used to think that maybe on wet afternoons in heaven, we'd all sit around God's throne and say, heavenly father, why are the leaves green? And he would say, because of the chlorophyll. And we would say, oh. Well, that idea, you see, of the world as an artifact, could prompt a child in our culture to say to its mother, how was I made? And it seems very natural.

[14:00]

So when it's explained that God made you, the child naturally goes on and says, but who made God? But I don't think a Chinese child would ask that question at all. How was I made? Because the Chinese mind does not look at the world of nature as something manufactured. But rather grown. The character for coming into being in Chinese is based on a symbol of a growing plant. Now, growing and making are two different things. When you make something, you assemble parts. Or you take a piece of wood and you carve it, working gradually from the outside inwards, cutting away until you've got the shape you want. But when you watch something grow, it isn't going like that. If you see, for example, a fast motion movie of a rose growing,

[15:04]

you will see that the process goes from the inside to the outside. It is, as it were, something expanding from the center. And so far from being an addition of parts, it all grows together, all moves all over itself at once. And the same is true when you're watching the formation of crystals, or even if you're watching a photographic plate being developed. Suddenly, all over the area of the plate, over the field, shall we call it, like a magnetic field, it all arises. Now, that idea of the world as growing, and as not obeying any laws, because there is, in Chinese philosophy, no difference between the Tao, that is the word T-A-O, in Japanese, do. There is no difference between the way,

[16:07]

the power of nature, and the things in nature. It isn't, you see, when I stir up wind with this fan, it isn't simply that the wind obeys the fan. There wouldn't be a fan in my hand unless there were wind around. Unless there were air, no fan. So the air brings the fan into being, as much as the fan brings the air into being. So they don't think in this way of obeying all the time. Masters and slaves, lord and servant. Nature, Lao Tzu, who wrote the, supposed to have written the Tao Te Ching, the fundamental book of the Taoist philosophy, he lived probably a little before 300 B.C.,

[17:09]

although tradition makes him a contemporary of Confucius, who lived closer to 600. But he says in his book, 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 attained, it makes no claim to them. So, the corollary of that is that if this is the way nature is run, not by government, but by, as it were, letting everything follow its course, then the skillful man, or woman, or the skillful ruler, or the sage, interferes as little as possible with the course of things.

[18:12]

Of course, you can't help interfering. Every time you look at something, you change it. Your existence is, in a way, an interference. But if you think of yourself as something separate from the rest of the world, then you will think of interference, or not interference. But if you know that you're not separate from it, that you are just as much in and of nature as the wind or the clouds, then who interferes with what? But in general, the notion is that life is most skillfully lived when one sails a boat rather than rowing it. Now, you see, it's more intelligent to sail than to row. With oars, I have to drag, I use my muscles and my effort

[19:15]

to drag myself along the water. But with a sail, I let the wind do the work for me. More skillful still when I learn to tack and let the wind blow me against the direction of the wind. Now, that's the whole philosophy of the Tao. It's called in Chinese, wu wei. Wu, non, wei, striving. In Japanese, mui. Yi is Japanese for pronouncing the Chinese way. Mu is Chinese wu. Mui, as distinct from ui. Ui means to use effort, to go against the grain, to force things. Mui, not to go against the grain, to go with the grain. And so you will see around you in every direction examples of mui, of the intelligent handling of nature

[20:16]

so as to go with it rather than against it. For example, the famous art of judo is entirely based on this. When you are attacked, don't simply oppose the force used against you, but go in the same direction as it's going. And lead it to its own downfall. So it is said, in the winter, there's a tough pine tree, which has a branch like this with muscles. And the snow piles up and piles up, and this unyielding branch eventually has this huge weight of snow, and it cracks. Whereas the willow tree has a springy, supple branch. And a little snow comes on it, and the branch just goes down, and the snow falls off. And whoops, the branch goes up again. So Lao Tzu said, Man at his birth is supple and tender,

[21:20]

but in death he is rigid and hard. Plants when they are young are soft and supple, but in death they are brittle and hard. So, suppleness and tenderness are the characteristics of life, and rigidity and hardness the characteristics of death. He made many references to water, said of all things in the world, nothing is more soft than water. And yet it wears away the hardest rocks. Furthermore, water is humble, it always seeks the low level, which men abhor. But yet, water finally overcomes everything. So when you watch water take the line of least resistance, you watch, for example, water poured out on the ground, and then you see it as it were ejecting fingers from itself. And some of those fingers stop, but one finger goes on, it's found the lowest level.

[22:24]

Now you say, oh but that's not the water, the water doesn't do anything, it's just the contours of the land. And because of the contours of the land, the water goes where the land makes it go. Think again. Does the sailing boat go where the wind makes it go? I never forget once I was out in the countryside, and a piece of thistle down, flew out of the blue, came right down near me, and I put out a finger, and I caught it by one of its little tendrils. And it behaved just like catching a daddy longlegs, you know, when you catch one by one leg, it naturally struggles to get away. Well this thing behaved just like that, and I thought, well, was this the wind doing that? It only appears to look as if it was doing it. Then I thought again, wait a minute, it is the wind, yes, but it's also that this has the intelligence to grow itself so as to use the wind.

[23:27]

You see that? That is intelligence. That little structure of thistle down is a form of intelligence just as surely as the construction of a house is a manifestation of intelligence. But it uses the wind, so in the same way the water uses the conformations of the ground. Water isn't just dead stuff, it's not just being pushed around. Nothing is being pushed around in the Chinese view of nature. Because, you see, this is my next point. First point I've been saying is what they mean by nature. That it is something that happens of itself, that it has no boss. And the second point is that it does not, in the sense that it doesn't have a boss, somebody giving orders,

[24:29]

and somebody obeying orders, that leads further to an entirely different conception of cause and effect. Cause and effect is based on giving orders. When you say something made this happen, it had to happen because of what happened before. Chinese doesn't think like that. Now, his idea of causality is called, or I say the concept which does duty for our idea of causality, is called mutual arising. Let's take the relationship between the back and the front of anything. Is the back the cause of the front or is the front the cause of the back?

[25:30]

What a silly question. It's obvious. If things don't have fronts, then they can't have backs. If they don't have backs, they can't have fronts. Front and back always go together. That is to say, they come into being together. And so, in just the same way as the front and the back arise together, this basic sort of Chinese Taoist philosophy sees everything in the world coming together. And this is called the philosophy of mutual interpenetration. In Japanese, Jiji Muge. Jiji Muge. We'll go into this in great detail when we get to Nara, because Nara is the center of Kegon Buddhism. And so, this is the particular philosophy which developed Jiji Muge. But still,

[26:32]

it goes way back into the history of the Chinese idea of nature. Now look at that very simply. Let us suppose you had never seen a cat. And one day you are looking through a very narrow slit in a fence. And a cat walks by. First you see the cat's head. Then there's a rather nondescript fuzzy interval, and a tail follows. And you say, marvelous. Then the cat turns round and walks back. You see the head, and then after a little interval, the tail. You say, incredible. The cat turns round and walks back again. And you see first the head, and then the tail. And you say, this begins to look like a regularity. There must be some order in this phenomenon. Because whenever I see the thing which I've labeled head, I later see the thing I've labeled tail. So therefore, where there is an event which I call head,

[27:34]

and it's invariably followed by another event that I call tail, obviously head is the cause of the tail. And the tail is the effect. Now we think that way about everything. But of course, if you suddenly widened up the crack in the fence so that you saw that the head and tail were all one cat, and that the head, when a cat is born, it's born with a head and a tail. It isn't that there is a head and then later a tail. So in exactly the same way, the events that we seem to call separate events are really all one event. Only we chop it into pieces to describe it. Like we say the head of the cat and the tail of the cat, although it's all one cat. And so when we've chopped it to pieces, then we suddenly forget we did that and try to explain how they fit together. And we invent a myth called causality to explain how they do.

[28:35]

But the reason we chop the world into bits is simply for purposes of intellectual convenience. For example, our world is through and through wiggly. And you notice that very much, how these people, although they have marvelous symmetry and use of space in the construction of houses, they love wigglings. And the garden, you see, is very fundamentally wiggly. They appreciate wiggly rocks. And when I remember so much as a child, wondering why Chinese houses all had wiggly roofs, the way they were curved, and why the people look more wiggly than our people look. Because the world is wiggly. Now, what are you going to do with a wiggly world? You've got to straighten it out.

[29:40]

And so we notice... Well, that's the initial solution, is to try and straighten it out. And so, people, of course, are very wiggly indeed. Only because we all appear together, we look regular. You know, we have two eyes, one nose, one mouth, two ears, and so on. And so we look regular, so we make sense. But if somebody had never seen a person before, you'd say, well, this is an extraordinarily amazing wiggly phenomenon. But we are, the world is wiggly. Now, one of the wiggliest things in the world is the fish. But somebody once found out they could use a net and catch a fish. Then they thought out a much better idea than that. They could catch the world with a net. A wiggly world. But what happens? Hang up a net in front of the world and look through it. What happens?

[30:42]

You can count the wiggles by saying, this wiggle goes so many holes across, so many holes down, so many holes across, so many to the left, so many to the right, so many up, so many down. And what do you have? You have the genesis of the calculus. And your net, as it were, breaks up the world into countable bits. As we now say in information theory, we have so many bits of information to process. In the same way, a bit is a bite. You're going to eat chicken, you can't swallow the whole chicken at once, so you've got to take it in bites. But you don't get a cut-up fryer out of the egg. So in the same way, the real universe has no bits. It's all one thing, it's not a lot of things. But in order to digest it with your mind, which thinks of one thing at a time, you've got to make a calculus. And you've got to chop the universe into bits so as to think about it and talk about it.

[31:46]

You can see this whole fan at once, but if you want to talk about it, you have to talk about it bit by bit. Describe it. Go into the details. What details? Well, so with the world. Now if you don't realize that's what you've done, that you bitted the world in order to think about it, and it isn't really bitted at all, if you don't realize that, then you have troubles. Because then you've got to explain how the bits go together. How they connect with each other. And so you invent all sorts of ghosts called cause and effect. And influences, the word influence, you know. How do I influence you? As if I was something different from you. So influences and ghosts and spooks, all these things come into being. If we forget that we made the initial step of breaking the unity into pieces

[32:48]

in order to discuss it. So then, stepping back again, we have these very, very basic principles then. The world as nature, what happens of itself, is looked upon as a living organism. And it doesn't have a boss. Because things are not behaving in response to something that pushes them around. They are just behaving. And it's all one big behavior. Only if you want to look at it from certain points of view, you can see it as if something else were making something happen. But you do that only because you divide the thing up. So now you say,

[33:50]

final question, is the nature chaotic? Is there no law around here? There is not one single Chinese word that means the law of nature as we use it. The only word in Chinese that means law as we use it is the word zi. And this word is a character which represents a cauldron with a knife beside it. And this goes back to the fact that in very ancient times, when a certain emperor made laws for the people, he had the laws etched on the sacrificial cauldrons. So that when the people brought the sacrifices, they would read what was written on the cauldrons. And so this word zi. But the sages, who were of a Taoist feeling at the time when this emperor lived, said, you shouldn't have done that, sir.

[34:52]

Because the moment the people know what the law is, they develop a litigious spirit. And they'll say, well now, did you mean this precisely? Did you mean that precisely? And we'll find a way of wangling around it. So they said that the nature of nature, Tao, is wu zi, which means lawless. But in that sense of law. But to say that nature is lawless is not to say that it's chaotic. And the Chinese word here for the order of nature is called in Japanese, ri. Chinese, li. Ri. It's a curious word. It originally meant the markings in jade, the grain in wood, or the fiber in muscle. Now when you look at jade, you see it has this wonderful mottled markings in it.

[35:54]

And you know somehow, and you can't explain why, those mottlings are not chaotic. When you look at the patterns of clouds, or the patterns of foam on the water, isn't it astounding they never, never make an aesthetic mistake? Look at the way the stars are arranged. Why, they're not arranged. They seem to be scattered through the sky like spray. But would you ever criticize the stars for being in poor taste? When you look at a mountain range, it's perfect. But somehow, this spontaneous, wiggly arrangement of nature is quite different from anything that we would call a mess. Look at an ashtray full of cigarette butts and screwed up bits of paper. Look at some modern painting

[36:58]

where people have gone out of their way to create expensive messes. You see, they're different. And this is the whole joke, that we can't put our finger on what the difference is although we jolly well know it. We can't define it. If we could define it, in other words, if we could define aesthetic beauty, it would cease to be interesting. In other words, if we could have a method which would automatically produce great artists, anybody could go to school and become a great artist. Their work would be the most boring kind of kitsch. But just because you don't know how it's done, that gives it an excitement. And so it is with this. There is no formula, that is to say, no rule according to which all this happens.

[38:00]

And yet it's not a mess. So this idea of re, you can translate the word re as organic pattern. And this re is the word that they use for the order of nature instead of our idea of law where the things are obeying something. If they are not obeying a governor in the sense of God, they are obeying principles like a streetcar. Do you know that, Limerick? There was a young man who said, damn. Wait a moment. For it certainly seems that I am a creature that moves by indeterminate grooves. I'm not even a bus, I'm a tram. No. So that idea of the iron rails along which the course of life goes

[39:05]

is absent here. And that is why, basically, this accounts for Chinese and Japanese humanism. And here, this is very important. There's a basic humanism to this culture. The people in this culture, Chinese and Japanese, don't feel guilty, ever. They feel ashamed, yes, of something. Shame because they have transgressed social requirements. But they are incapable of a sense of sin. They don't feel, in other words, that you are guilty because you exist. And you owe your existence to the Lord God, and you are a mistake anyway. You know? They don't feel that. They have social shame, but not metaphysical guilt.

[40:07]

And that leads to a great relaxation. And you can sense it, if you're sensitive, just walking around the streets. You realize that these people have not been tarred with that terrible monotheistic brush, which gives them a sense of guilt. So, they work on the supposition that human nature, like all nature, is basically good. Uh, basically. But it's good, it's funny good. It consists in its good bad. It consists in the passions as much as the virtues. In Chinese, there's a word, 人. I don't know how it's pronounced in Japanese. I'll write it backwards. How do you pronounce that in Japanese? In Chinese. 人. Uh,

[41:10]

this means human heartedness. Humaneness. Not in the sense of being humane, in the sense of being kind necessarily, but of being human. So I say, oh, he's a great human being. Means that's the kind of person who's not a stuffed shirt, who is able to come off it, who can talk with you on a man-to-man basis, who recognizes along with you that he's a rascal too. And so people, men, for example, when they each affectionately call a friend of theirs, hi you bastard, how are you getting on? This is a term of endearment. Because they know that he shares with them what I call the element of irreducible rascality. That we all have. So then, if a person has this attitude, he is never going to be an overweening goody-goody. Confucius said, goody-goodies are the thieves of virtue.

[42:10]

Because you see, if I am right, and you are wrong, and we get into a fight, what I'm out to is a crusader against the wrong, and I'm going to obliterate you. Or I'm going to demand your unconditional surrender. But if I say, no, I'm not right, and you're not wrong, but I happen to want to carry off your women. You know, I lie to you about the most beautiful girls, and I'm going to fight you for them. But if I do that, I'm going to be very careful not to kill the girls. In modern war, we don't care. The only people who are safe are in the Air Force. They're way up there. You know, or else they've got subterranean caves they're in. You know? Women and children be damned. They can be frizzled with Hiroshima bomb. But you can sit in the plane and be safe. So this is inhumane, because we are fighting

[43:14]

ideologically, instead of for practical things, like food and possessions, and being greedy. So that's why the Confucian would say, he trusts human passions, more than he trusts human virtues, righteousness, goodness, principles, and all that highfalutin abstractions. Let's get down to earth. Let's come up. So then, this is why the kind of man in whom the kind of nature, the kind of human nature, in which trust is put. Because you see, look, if you were like the Christians and the Jews, not so much the Jews, but mostly the Christians, who don't trust human nature, say it's fallen, it's evil, it's perverse. That puts you in a very funny position. Because if you say, human nature is not to be trusted, you can't even trust the fact that you don't trust it. See where you land out? You land out in a hopeless mess.

[44:17]

Now, it's true, human nature is not always trustworthy. But you must proceed on the gamble that is trustworthy most of the time. Or even 51% of the time. Because if you don't, what's your alternative? You have to have a police state. Everybody has to be watched and controlled, and then who's going to watch the police? And so you end up in this way, in China, just before 250 BC, there was a short-lived dynasty called the Qing Dynasty, that lasted 15 years. And the man decided, who was the emperor of that, that he would rule everybody. Everything would be completely controlled, and his dynasty would last for a thousand years. And it was a mess. So the Han Dynasty, which lasted from 250 BC to 250 AD, came into being,

[45:22]

and the first thing they did was to abolish all laws, except about two. You know, elementary violence, you mustn't go around killing people and things like that, or robbing. But all the complexity of law. And this Han Dynasty marked the height of Chinese civilization. It was a real period of great, great sophistication and peace. China's golden age. I may be oversimplifying it, of course, as all historians do. But this was a marvelous thing, you see. But it's based on this whole idea of the humanism of the Far East, that although human beings are scallywags, they are no more so than cats and dogs and birds. And you must trust human nature, because if you can't, you're up the spout.

[46:23]

Now, it's... I've talked for long enough. You've been listening to a lecture by the late Alan Watts entitled The Philosophy of Nature. If you'd like to get a catalog of all the available Alan Watts lectures, you can send a stamped, self-addressed envelope to MEA, Box 303, Sausalito, California. That's MEA, Box 303, Sausalito, California. It's 25 minutes after 8. This is KSAN in San Francisco. © BF-WATCH TV 2021

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