There was a hawk on my path today. It is the third time I have seen it this week, and I’m sure it’s the same one, always circling the same place. It arrived as a long shadow cast over my left shoulder, and as I looked up to see it turn towards the tree line, time folded in on itself and I was back there, in Costa Rica all those years ago, trying and failing to write a book.
Of course there is a hawk on my path today. It is the eighth anniversary of the publication of the book I was struggling to write back then, my first book Freedom Seeker. The one that set me free.
Talons. Wings. Circles. Flight paths. Control. Surrender. These words are riding the thermals as I remember the other hawk story, and measure in wingspans the trajectory that it shifted.
I’d like to share that story today, on this anniversary, and ask you a question. But first, some thoughts on nature, authenticity and control.
The Dáodéjīng (sometimes written Tao Te Ching), or The Way and its Power, is a poetic and powerful compilation of wisdom, which has become the most translated of all philosophical work in Chinese. Dating back to around 300BCE, it is traditionally attributed to a figure known as Laozi (sometimes written Lao Tzu), although it is likely to have had a long gestation in different hands.
Its mystical nature has generated a host of interpretations, but all centre on the notion of wú wéi, conventionally translated from the Chinese as ‘non-action’. This is not passivity, but rather letting things take their natural course, embracing spontaneity and not endeavouring to control things. It means having your mind perfectly attuned to an activity or situation so that no conscious effort is needed to accomplish it.
There are also frequent references to the natural world, reminding us that birds are not always in flight and the skies do not always storm. In some ways it is an ode to zìrán, the Chinese term for naturalness, or embracing things as they are.
The Dáodéjīng also emphasises de which translates from the Chinese as ‘power’ or ‘virtue’, not in the moral sense but rather as a property inherent in something2. This is sometimes described as ‘authenticity’ or ‘skill at living’.
This is the wisdom of listening, practising and trusting without trying to force outcomes.
In recent years I have discovered that this is also the wisdom of fearless writing. I absolutely did not know that when I was writing Freedom Seeker. [… continued]
Click here to read the full essay for free on my Substack.
Images: Top – Berlynn. Centre + Bottom – Holly Bobbins Photography. Artwork under teapot in bottom image – Emilie van Camp.