Really appreciate this writing on a morning where I had been feeling tired of Substack essays altogether. I am very tempted to 'agree' with it all - but wouldn't that also be tiresome?
I am reading The Master and His Emissary at the moment and, being an ecologist, I'm always thinking 'the right brain's job is to look out for predators.'
Also, though, there is truth in the idea that we can focus too much on apex predators. The young boy in that story has something to say to his king about apex predators! If I ever find myself having to teach kids about 'food chains' I'd like to start with that story. I hadn't heard it before.
So I think a lot about your metaphor in the first part about invasive species. I really like it. But invasive species tend to be defined as 'those which are in places where they do not belong.' Or, perhaps 'those which are in places which they do not belong and are causing trouble.' I am always finding little ideas of Eden crystallizing in our visions of the flow.
"Love is the apex predator," is such a good phrase. I think it would be a mistake to think it was the kind of metaphor which represents something we don't understand (what love does) with something we do understand (invasive species and apex predators). Rather is drawing together two things which we might think we understand but probably do not. It might be just as illuminating - or more so - in the other direction.
Even if that's a line of thinking that turns out not to work, it's still better than 'species in places where they don't belong' which *definitely* doesn't work.
Hey Nicholas, good to see you here again. Love as something also with fangs and sharp teeth, rather than only soft and soothing light, has been something brewing in me for a while, especially after reading more of the great Rewild Portland / 'invasive' species recent posts, and non-native species crafting by Delia of the Greenwood and others from the natural art materials side of my life. It also mixed with 'I come not to bring peace, but a sword' (Matthew 10 v34-6). It is me trying to find a way to integrate the system-wide vivifying effect of the death-bringers, while doing justice to the pain and suffering they cause on an individual animal or human's life, which always felt very 'Taoist reversal story'. But actually 'the smalls' (as Siv Watson of Microanimism so brilliant terms micro-organisms) are actually the apex predators, always have been, always will be. So perhaps I have been sucked in by the photogenic megafauna trap. But it made a way better essay title than 'The lice in your hair are your overlords', which sounds like a post-rock album from 2003.
Anyway, as ever, I am thinking aloud, possibly foolishly, in public, yet again. Greetings from the train to Exeter.
hope I didn't seem like I was voicing a contrary opinion! I thought it was amazing. I'm always just running along through the thoughts with my tongue hanging out: 'ok but what about....' :-)
“I see evil as a sickly energy in motion, as in a wave, not a ‘particle’ that you can pin down and label once and for all.”
The struggle is in the capacity to see it. Like the electromagnetic spectrum, the rainbow of light that the human eye can see is a small portion of the light in our universe. Telescopes can be engineered to detect light outside of the visible range to illuminate otherwise hidden regions of space. Is the living culture you speak of our telescope for evils that lie hidden to the naked eye?
“However, so far in all the Taoist texts I have read, ‘evil’, specifically, is not mentioned. If this is a translation error into English, then it is remarkably consistent between many translators.”
Interesting, I hadn’t thought of this in terms of translation into written works because I have mainly heard my teacher speak in English about Taoist classics (which he was taught in Chinese), using the word ‘evil,’ generally as a contrast to good. So I looked into my friend Dr Alan Peatfield’s translation of “Daodejing: The Oral Tradition.” In Kindle format, published last year, it has a neat search facility on words and phrases, which instantly picked out 43 uses of the word ‘evil’ in the 1352 pages (plus quite a few uses of the words devil.)
As one example
Chapter 20, 3rd line, he translates as: ‘Between good and evil, how much difference is there?’
Over a number of pages, it is noted that the Mawangdui versions replace ‘good’ with ‘praise,’ thus creating an opposition between ‘praise’ and ‘evil’ rather than ‘good’ and ‘evil.’ There is some discourse between him and Master BK Frantzis about the historic context of translation and use of language regarding a philosophical versus a religious, moral point of view, with examples and references to mythic and moral perspectives. For example, religion placing the devil as the most evil thing that ever happened, and how there have been so many mind games played with Christian theology in the Middle Ages to create theocratic government. If there is a God that is the ultimate good, then there must also be an ultimate evil being. We still see this thinking and control alive in the world, ‘the same gig with different spins.’ Points are made about how the Mind of Man interprets with conditioning and attempts to control and make judgments using language like a lawyer. Yet ‘what does a lawyer do but take opposing words like ‘yes and no,’ ‘true and false,’ and twist them in every way possible to get the desired verdict and the rewards that come from it!’
A key point, of course, is made that in terms of practice, a Daoist practitioner seeks to become not attached or influenced by either contrasting opposite, be it good or evil, praise or non-praise etc. They follow Mind of Dao. ‘Find the taiji that generates these yes and yangs, whatever they might be, and transcend them.’ Effectively, the words, however translated as opposites, become relatively unimportant.
There is further discussion about how deep can you go in terms of exploring to the point where the difference between good and evil becomes little. How deep can you go, how many layers down… the point being made is that the Mind of Man generally does not go too far beneath the surface, yet for Daoists they say that ‘it is only at the deepest layers that taiji will be encountered.’
More follows about human history and judgments about ‘evil acts’ and the consequences of judgments and punishments, good v evil and entering murky territories of yes-no answers and the loops that the Mind of Man makes, fixating on good and evil as translated through laws made to enforce order in society, as opposed to the judgments made from the level of essence. ‘Where does all this good-evil stuff end up?’ The gist of it is that when people lose their virtue, they make laws and, by implication, they cease to be honest. Laws can get perverted, some law enforcers can become corrupt, influence can be bought, in short we wend up with muddied waters. Again returning to the point being made… ‘how much difference can there be between good and evil?’
The are a number of pages on the issue in Chapter 20, exploring teachings about morality, true-false thinking in the west, Daoist perspectives on True and False and ultimately about meditation and doing your own thorough investigation so that you can move from a place of less ignorance. We’ve always been told that study and contemplation plays a key role in the unravelling of the journey to Dao, alongside relaxing into deeper and deeper layers of meditation to find what is real and what is not.
That is just from a small section of one chapter, there are many uses of the word ‘evil’ in the translation of other chapters. I can try asking Alan why he chose to translate using the term ‘evil,’ but professors do tend to give even wordier answers than I’ve just done, backed up with footnotes and appendices, and our own explorations are what we are being encouraged to do…
That’s why I also love reading Caroline’s Substack posts!
We are very accustomed to the concept of Mind of Man, and I believe that the Mind of Woman can give a different perspective to our contemplations, (yes, I do know that’s not what was implied by the men who coined the terms ‘Mind of Man’ v ‘Mind of Dao’… but nevertheless the ‘man-woman’ thing is still just another set of ‘opposites’ we play with throughout our lives as humans, and whilst the perspectives of both are equally fascinating, it’s only in my lifetime that women’s interpretations have been given much weight. I wonder whether there are any translations and interpretations of Chinese classics by western-educated Taoist women?
Thanks so much for these, re translations that do indeed include the term evil. I looked at that edition online recently after you pointed it out, but have not read it yet. I have amended my piece accordingly.
Praise and blame is a good binary to add in, too, so common in the Classics.
I do not have mind of Tao. My interpretations are from my own study and experience only, and are not scholarly.
Your own study, experience and ability to communicate in words about your findings are the skills of a truly natural writer. I love to read your interpretations and contemplations on your journey, as do many people. They resonate so well and a great many more will be inspired in future.
Mind of Dao is surely experiential (so maybe you can remove the ‘only’ regarding your journey), at its most deep and real for each of us and way beyond the words of scholars. It is good to search and to find, to question, reject, embrace, discuss and to share, the light and dark of each of us in its mysteries.
The amorphous depth of the mysterious yin would appear to be so much easier for experiential ‘mind of woman’ to yield to and lose its conditioned shape in to.
Shared ideas and experiences and discussions can all be catalysts on the Way, maybe even equal to the words and translations of learned scholars. Having access to both of course makes living in this very moment with our chosen platforms and ‘machinery of sharing’ really rather exciting!
Thanks to your prompt. I just returned to chapter 20 in couple if versions just now, 'Is there a difference between good and evil?' This whole chapter is very much on-point about Taoist ambivalence to preaching on this matter.
Thanks, Caro, for this! I asked for a few crumbs and you gave a feast!
Very interesting stuff here, with enormous nuance. I am still pondering. As a Christian, I am more than aware of the widely marketed brand of this faith, the version that can simplify things, including evil, to the point of kitsch. Evil as a fridge magnet, or a bumper sticker, or something like that. I didn’t get that from your essay (rather the reverse actually), but I wanted to front that in my remarks, as I sympathize greatly with the view that evil is not often that “particle” that we can “pin down and label” in a given situation.
But it does seem real. I will speak for myself: There have been plenty of moments in life when I hovered between two roads, and deliberately chose the one that was selfish, and that I knew would benefit me rather than somebody else, even somebody I claimed to love. Perhaps it was impulse, or just being deliberately unwise.
One learns and grows, of course. As I reflected on your reflections, a thread seemed that there is a kind of naturalness that, if we could realign with it a bit more, would bring out the better wolves of our nature. I think this is quite true, and if we could do that much, the world really would be immeasurably better. So yes, let us each compost our own crap; take on the responsibility for our actions; come into our native fullness and variety as a species; the result will be a healthy shift in the overall ecology, and thus any incipient viruses of ill intent are quashed even before they can take root.
But even if we could do this, even if we deliberately choose it, we would be choosing in ways that wolves and mice cannot choose. People, in this sense, are not entirely natural.
Wolves, as you suggested, cannot be “bad”, and they cannot be truly “good” either in any moral or even ethical sense. If a wolf kills, we would never accuse it of murder. But people kill all the time, and only rarely do we excuse the act on the basis that something “animal” had overtaken them. Even now, when terrible acts are described as "savagery”, we know in fact that the “savages” are not savages but human beings who often chose to do what they do, ignoring the wisdom that they grew up with, or their conscience, which might have inclined them otherwise, if they had only listened.
To put it another way, it seems to me that our choice-making capacity is so capacious that, unlike animals, or water, we can never be only instinctive (even in the very best sense of instinctive). We cannot submerge fully into nature or integrate fully into the wolf pack. Not that it doesn’t help to realign in the ways that you described—doing even that much would likely be transformative in many ways. Yet, it seems to me a great and important part of us will always dangle outside the natural. This part hovers, chooses, and through strange inclination or desire, can deliberately go against wisdom. What is this other part? This wild, and sometimes dangerous, root of our mind or spirit?
Within the Christian tradition, this part of course is seen as a persistent imperfection of being, one that we can wrestle with, limit, turn from, but not entirely erase through our own strength (just as exercise, stress management, and eating organic will almost certainly lengthen our lives, yet never ultimately prevent illness and finally death).
To be “wise”, in this sense, is to recognize that we are not entirely natural, and that we must exercise the peculiar self-reflective consciousness and other weird cognitive qualities that animals don’t have (at least not in our measure) in making “good” decisions. Qualities that allow us to write books, to talk in abstractions and metaphors, and teach to each other what is “wise” and what is “unwise”—and to encourage each other to choose the former, even if it means, on occasion, going against what feels utterly natural or deeply compelling.
I think your essay is an example of this very encouragement.
I have sat with your fulsome response, my friend, so much that chimes for me here. Thankyou for your words on naturalness and intent, which although I cannot pin them down, do indeed differ from the wolves and other creatures we can observe. (Though what is going in the hearts and minds of the huge aquatic mammals, we cannot be sure. They appear to have distinct cultures, and songs, geographically, and we just cannot know how deeply they love, ponder or reflect.)
In answer to your original question, I wanted to present what I had learned from Tao, although it is perhaps not as orthodox as others' views. But also, and I haven't yet written about it fully here in my Substack, my spiritual life, for want of a better word, does not only fit within a Taoist framework. Grace, for instance, is something I experience but cannot find written of within the Classics, and so contextualise it to myself via the Christianity of my upbringing. Likewise with prayer, healing, and the experience of that-which-I-pray-to, The Great Mystery, which I will write of soon, when I can finally find the words.
Personally, I am ambivalent about the usefulness of the term 'evil'. It seems very helpful in some cases; it offers clarity and gives a clear direction to avoid. And yet, I also see how it becomes a label that simplifies necessary complexity and inter-subjectivity, which is rarely a good thing. So, I remain on the fence about how to label this thing which clearly seems to exist. Luckily, I am not a theologian, so perhaps that's ok. I am greatly enjoying reading and learning from all the responses.
The wise course of action for me would be, if I were strictly Taoist, not to talk about these things! But my heart and mind wish to talk deeply with other people of good faith, from many traditions and none, about how these important things impinge upon and shape our ethics and behaviour. Shortly I shall be sending you a similarly small / huge question, I think, in gratitude and curiosity. I greatly appreciate your answers from your open, thoughtful Christianity, which reminds me very much of the tenor-of- faith of several members of my family. Peace on your house, Peco.
Really appreciate this writing on a morning where I had been feeling tired of Substack essays altogether. I am very tempted to 'agree' with it all - but wouldn't that also be tiresome?
I am reading The Master and His Emissary at the moment and, being an ecologist, I'm always thinking 'the right brain's job is to look out for predators.'
Also, though, there is truth in the idea that we can focus too much on apex predators. The young boy in that story has something to say to his king about apex predators! If I ever find myself having to teach kids about 'food chains' I'd like to start with that story. I hadn't heard it before.
So I think a lot about your metaphor in the first part about invasive species. I really like it. But invasive species tend to be defined as 'those which are in places where they do not belong.' Or, perhaps 'those which are in places which they do not belong and are causing trouble.' I am always finding little ideas of Eden crystallizing in our visions of the flow.
"Love is the apex predator," is such a good phrase. I think it would be a mistake to think it was the kind of metaphor which represents something we don't understand (what love does) with something we do understand (invasive species and apex predators). Rather is drawing together two things which we might think we understand but probably do not. It might be just as illuminating - or more so - in the other direction.
Even if that's a line of thinking that turns out not to work, it's still better than 'species in places where they don't belong' which *definitely* doesn't work.
Hey Nicholas, good to see you here again. Love as something also with fangs and sharp teeth, rather than only soft and soothing light, has been something brewing in me for a while, especially after reading more of the great Rewild Portland / 'invasive' species recent posts, and non-native species crafting by Delia of the Greenwood and others from the natural art materials side of my life. It also mixed with 'I come not to bring peace, but a sword' (Matthew 10 v34-6). It is me trying to find a way to integrate the system-wide vivifying effect of the death-bringers, while doing justice to the pain and suffering they cause on an individual animal or human's life, which always felt very 'Taoist reversal story'. But actually 'the smalls' (as Siv Watson of Microanimism so brilliant terms micro-organisms) are actually the apex predators, always have been, always will be. So perhaps I have been sucked in by the photogenic megafauna trap. But it made a way better essay title than 'The lice in your hair are your overlords', which sounds like a post-rock album from 2003.
Anyway, as ever, I am thinking aloud, possibly foolishly, in public, yet again. Greetings from the train to Exeter.
hope I didn't seem like I was voicing a contrary opinion! I thought it was amazing. I'm always just running along through the thoughts with my tongue hanging out: 'ok but what about....' :-)
Hey Nicholas, even if it were contrary opinion, that's also allowed!
“I see evil as a sickly energy in motion, as in a wave, not a ‘particle’ that you can pin down and label once and for all.”
The struggle is in the capacity to see it. Like the electromagnetic spectrum, the rainbow of light that the human eye can see is a small portion of the light in our universe. Telescopes can be engineered to detect light outside of the visible range to illuminate otherwise hidden regions of space. Is the living culture you speak of our telescope for evils that lie hidden to the naked eye?
Hi Caroline,
I posted my comments as a note, so here I will simply offer my deep thanks to you for sharing your labors with us.
Thank you Adam.
“However, so far in all the Taoist texts I have read, ‘evil’, specifically, is not mentioned. If this is a translation error into English, then it is remarkably consistent between many translators.”
Interesting, I hadn’t thought of this in terms of translation into written works because I have mainly heard my teacher speak in English about Taoist classics (which he was taught in Chinese), using the word ‘evil,’ generally as a contrast to good. So I looked into my friend Dr Alan Peatfield’s translation of “Daodejing: The Oral Tradition.” In Kindle format, published last year, it has a neat search facility on words and phrases, which instantly picked out 43 uses of the word ‘evil’ in the 1352 pages (plus quite a few uses of the words devil.)
As one example
Chapter 20, 3rd line, he translates as: ‘Between good and evil, how much difference is there?’
Over a number of pages, it is noted that the Mawangdui versions replace ‘good’ with ‘praise,’ thus creating an opposition between ‘praise’ and ‘evil’ rather than ‘good’ and ‘evil.’ There is some discourse between him and Master BK Frantzis about the historic context of translation and use of language regarding a philosophical versus a religious, moral point of view, with examples and references to mythic and moral perspectives. For example, religion placing the devil as the most evil thing that ever happened, and how there have been so many mind games played with Christian theology in the Middle Ages to create theocratic government. If there is a God that is the ultimate good, then there must also be an ultimate evil being. We still see this thinking and control alive in the world, ‘the same gig with different spins.’ Points are made about how the Mind of Man interprets with conditioning and attempts to control and make judgments using language like a lawyer. Yet ‘what does a lawyer do but take opposing words like ‘yes and no,’ ‘true and false,’ and twist them in every way possible to get the desired verdict and the rewards that come from it!’
A key point, of course, is made that in terms of practice, a Daoist practitioner seeks to become not attached or influenced by either contrasting opposite, be it good or evil, praise or non-praise etc. They follow Mind of Dao. ‘Find the taiji that generates these yes and yangs, whatever they might be, and transcend them.’ Effectively, the words, however translated as opposites, become relatively unimportant.
There is further discussion about how deep can you go in terms of exploring to the point where the difference between good and evil becomes little. How deep can you go, how many layers down… the point being made is that the Mind of Man generally does not go too far beneath the surface, yet for Daoists they say that ‘it is only at the deepest layers that taiji will be encountered.’
More follows about human history and judgments about ‘evil acts’ and the consequences of judgments and punishments, good v evil and entering murky territories of yes-no answers and the loops that the Mind of Man makes, fixating on good and evil as translated through laws made to enforce order in society, as opposed to the judgments made from the level of essence. ‘Where does all this good-evil stuff end up?’ The gist of it is that when people lose their virtue, they make laws and, by implication, they cease to be honest. Laws can get perverted, some law enforcers can become corrupt, influence can be bought, in short we wend up with muddied waters. Again returning to the point being made… ‘how much difference can there be between good and evil?’
The are a number of pages on the issue in Chapter 20, exploring teachings about morality, true-false thinking in the west, Daoist perspectives on True and False and ultimately about meditation and doing your own thorough investigation so that you can move from a place of less ignorance. We’ve always been told that study and contemplation plays a key role in the unravelling of the journey to Dao, alongside relaxing into deeper and deeper layers of meditation to find what is real and what is not.
That is just from a small section of one chapter, there are many uses of the word ‘evil’ in the translation of other chapters. I can try asking Alan why he chose to translate using the term ‘evil,’ but professors do tend to give even wordier answers than I’ve just done, backed up with footnotes and appendices, and our own explorations are what we are being encouraged to do…
That’s why I also love reading Caroline’s Substack posts!
We are very accustomed to the concept of Mind of Man, and I believe that the Mind of Woman can give a different perspective to our contemplations, (yes, I do know that’s not what was implied by the men who coined the terms ‘Mind of Man’ v ‘Mind of Dao’… but nevertheless the ‘man-woman’ thing is still just another set of ‘opposites’ we play with throughout our lives as humans, and whilst the perspectives of both are equally fascinating, it’s only in my lifetime that women’s interpretations have been given much weight. I wonder whether there are any translations and interpretations of Chinese classics by western-educated Taoist women?
Go for it Caro!!
Should read ‘yins and yangs,’ not ‘yes and yangs.’ Autocorrect 🤦♀️
Thanks so much for these, re translations that do indeed include the term evil. I looked at that edition online recently after you pointed it out, but have not read it yet. I have amended my piece accordingly.
Praise and blame is a good binary to add in, too, so common in the Classics.
I do not have mind of Tao. My interpretations are from my own study and experience only, and are not scholarly.
Your own study, experience and ability to communicate in words about your findings are the skills of a truly natural writer. I love to read your interpretations and contemplations on your journey, as do many people. They resonate so well and a great many more will be inspired in future.
Mind of Dao is surely experiential (so maybe you can remove the ‘only’ regarding your journey), at its most deep and real for each of us and way beyond the words of scholars. It is good to search and to find, to question, reject, embrace, discuss and to share, the light and dark of each of us in its mysteries.
The amorphous depth of the mysterious yin would appear to be so much easier for experiential ‘mind of woman’ to yield to and lose its conditioned shape in to.
Shared ideas and experiences and discussions can all be catalysts on the Way, maybe even equal to the words and translations of learned scholars. Having access to both of course makes living in this very moment with our chosen platforms and ‘machinery of sharing’ really rather exciting!
Thanks to your prompt. I just returned to chapter 20 in couple if versions just now, 'Is there a difference between good and evil?' This whole chapter is very much on-point about Taoist ambivalence to preaching on this matter.
Thanks, Caro, for this! I asked for a few crumbs and you gave a feast!
Very interesting stuff here, with enormous nuance. I am still pondering. As a Christian, I am more than aware of the widely marketed brand of this faith, the version that can simplify things, including evil, to the point of kitsch. Evil as a fridge magnet, or a bumper sticker, or something like that. I didn’t get that from your essay (rather the reverse actually), but I wanted to front that in my remarks, as I sympathize greatly with the view that evil is not often that “particle” that we can “pin down and label” in a given situation.
But it does seem real. I will speak for myself: There have been plenty of moments in life when I hovered between two roads, and deliberately chose the one that was selfish, and that I knew would benefit me rather than somebody else, even somebody I claimed to love. Perhaps it was impulse, or just being deliberately unwise.
One learns and grows, of course. As I reflected on your reflections, a thread seemed that there is a kind of naturalness that, if we could realign with it a bit more, would bring out the better wolves of our nature. I think this is quite true, and if we could do that much, the world really would be immeasurably better. So yes, let us each compost our own crap; take on the responsibility for our actions; come into our native fullness and variety as a species; the result will be a healthy shift in the overall ecology, and thus any incipient viruses of ill intent are quashed even before they can take root.
But even if we could do this, even if we deliberately choose it, we would be choosing in ways that wolves and mice cannot choose. People, in this sense, are not entirely natural.
Wolves, as you suggested, cannot be “bad”, and they cannot be truly “good” either in any moral or even ethical sense. If a wolf kills, we would never accuse it of murder. But people kill all the time, and only rarely do we excuse the act on the basis that something “animal” had overtaken them. Even now, when terrible acts are described as "savagery”, we know in fact that the “savages” are not savages but human beings who often chose to do what they do, ignoring the wisdom that they grew up with, or their conscience, which might have inclined them otherwise, if they had only listened.
To put it another way, it seems to me that our choice-making capacity is so capacious that, unlike animals, or water, we can never be only instinctive (even in the very best sense of instinctive). We cannot submerge fully into nature or integrate fully into the wolf pack. Not that it doesn’t help to realign in the ways that you described—doing even that much would likely be transformative in many ways. Yet, it seems to me a great and important part of us will always dangle outside the natural. This part hovers, chooses, and through strange inclination or desire, can deliberately go against wisdom. What is this other part? This wild, and sometimes dangerous, root of our mind or spirit?
Within the Christian tradition, this part of course is seen as a persistent imperfection of being, one that we can wrestle with, limit, turn from, but not entirely erase through our own strength (just as exercise, stress management, and eating organic will almost certainly lengthen our lives, yet never ultimately prevent illness and finally death).
To be “wise”, in this sense, is to recognize that we are not entirely natural, and that we must exercise the peculiar self-reflective consciousness and other weird cognitive qualities that animals don’t have (at least not in our measure) in making “good” decisions. Qualities that allow us to write books, to talk in abstractions and metaphors, and teach to each other what is “wise” and what is “unwise”—and to encourage each other to choose the former, even if it means, on occasion, going against what feels utterly natural or deeply compelling.
I think your essay is an example of this very encouragement.
I have sat with your fulsome response, my friend, so much that chimes for me here. Thankyou for your words on naturalness and intent, which although I cannot pin them down, do indeed differ from the wolves and other creatures we can observe. (Though what is going in the hearts and minds of the huge aquatic mammals, we cannot be sure. They appear to have distinct cultures, and songs, geographically, and we just cannot know how deeply they love, ponder or reflect.)
In answer to your original question, I wanted to present what I had learned from Tao, although it is perhaps not as orthodox as others' views. But also, and I haven't yet written about it fully here in my Substack, my spiritual life, for want of a better word, does not only fit within a Taoist framework. Grace, for instance, is something I experience but cannot find written of within the Classics, and so contextualise it to myself via the Christianity of my upbringing. Likewise with prayer, healing, and the experience of that-which-I-pray-to, The Great Mystery, which I will write of soon, when I can finally find the words.
Personally, I am ambivalent about the usefulness of the term 'evil'. It seems very helpful in some cases; it offers clarity and gives a clear direction to avoid. And yet, I also see how it becomes a label that simplifies necessary complexity and inter-subjectivity, which is rarely a good thing. So, I remain on the fence about how to label this thing which clearly seems to exist. Luckily, I am not a theologian, so perhaps that's ok. I am greatly enjoying reading and learning from all the responses.
The wise course of action for me would be, if I were strictly Taoist, not to talk about these things! But my heart and mind wish to talk deeply with other people of good faith, from many traditions and none, about how these important things impinge upon and shape our ethics and behaviour. Shortly I shall be sending you a similarly small / huge question, I think, in gratitude and curiosity. I greatly appreciate your answers from your open, thoughtful Christianity, which reminds me very much of the tenor-of- faith of several members of my family. Peace on your house, Peco.
Thank you! I will be a metaphorical orca. But on the subject of wolves, I recommend Barry Lopez, On Wolves and Men
Thank you, I have only read a few pieces by Barry Lopez as yet, and they were excellent.
Ah! I love him! You will also love him! Read everything!