WISDOM'S CORNER

     In the summer issue of The Caldron, "Wisdom's Corner" concerned itself with Taoism and the Tao. But what does it mean to be in the Tao? And how can we get there in the first place?

     One way to get into the Tao is to center ourselves, in particular our consciousness, in our bellies, in a point just below our navels. The Japanese call this place Hara or the one-point. Castaneda's Don Juan calls it Will.

     But where is the centre of the body? In the region of the navel, or, to be precise, a little below the navel. Therefore it should not surprise us that Hara, the essence of the vital centre, literally translated means belly. (Karfried Graf Von Durckheim, Hara, p. 21.)

     Hara is the centre of the human body - but the body, because it is a human body, is more than a merely biological-physiological entity. It is at the same time the centre in a spiritual sense or, to be more accurate, in a nature-given spiritual sense. (Hara, p. 49.)

     Once we realize that to unify mind and body we must concentrate our mind first, then we must learn where to concentrate it. It should be concentrated at the one-point in the lower abdomen. (Koichi Tohei, Ki in Daily Life, p. 35.)

     Once you understand that you have the center of the universe in you abdomen, try to begin every action from this point and absorb everything and every influence from this point. Then you will be able to keep coordination of mind and body in your daily life. (Ki in Daily Life, p. 41.)

     Castaneda's Don Juan speaks of Will, calling it a power that is "the true link between men and the world." He locates it the abdomen as well. (Carlos Castaneda, A Separate Reality, p. 180.)


     What happens when we do center our consciousness in our one-point? What are we like then? And how do we relate to the world from this center?

     In this connection we should mention an interesting concept which plays an important part in the Japanese world: Haragei, literally 'belly art.' Haragei is every activity made perfect through Hara. (Hara, p. 55.)

     We will give an example of haragei. A man walks along a road. A few yards behind him another follows. The man in front senses, without turning around, 'that fellow behind me is up to something.' But he calmly walks on without turning around. The pursuer who is indeed planning to attack him feels, 'the man knows what I have in mind' and then he feels, 'he must be strong' and so says to himself, 'better not start anything.' In this case haragei is present in both. In the case of the one walking in front it means perception. At the same time it means a power of radiation strong enough to reach the other. In the case of the foot-pad, haragei is also his capacity, or rather his general state which makes it possible for him to sense the strength of his intended victim who, in fact, has done nothing but continues to walk on calmly. (Hara, p. 55-56.)

     The example of the man who feels his enemy following him but remains undisturbed, and who, by the strength of this calm keeps the other in check, shows in a special way those spiritual qualities, which the Japanese think of immediately when Hara is mentioned - unconditional calm, that is, calm not dependent on any outward circumstances, together with heightened sensitivity and receptivity combined with an increased readiness to meet surprise, and the capacity for taking lightning decisions which can come only from genuine absence of tension. (Hara, p. 57.)

      'Sitting' in a room next to that of a mentally disturbed person will produce a change, a transformation of that person. (From the sayings of Master Okada Torajiro, quoted in Hara, p. 185.)

     Apart from the normal communication between man through language and action there is another quite different sort of mutual influence. It is that of the rhythm of the Original strength which permeates all human beings and all Nature. Through it every individual thing in essence and, as it were, underground, is connected with every other. If then one who is further removed from the working of the Primordial Force is close to one who lives more in accord with it, the rhythm of the Primordial Force will certainly be transmitted from the one to the other. The latter without knowing it exerts a good influence on the former. (Kaneko Shoseki, Nature and the Origin of Man, quoted in Hara, p. 207.)


     So, how can we become aware of everything that is going on around us? How can we influence others? How can we heal others just by being in our center?

     When Master Hayashi handed me the paper, I thanked him and asked: 'How does one set about becoming a master?' Whereupon he replied with a quiet smile, 'Just by letting the master who is in us come out.' (Hara, p. 42.)

     I have met all my misfortunes as though they were my honoured teachers. Therefore I have no place for pity towards anyone who complains, no matter how unhappy he may be. (From the sayings of Master Okada Torajiro, quoted in Hara, p. 187.)

      'What is the highest that man can achieve through practice?' I frequently asked Eastern masters. The reply was always, 'the readiness of let himself be seized.' (Hara, p. 127-128.)

     Speaking of "the man, who is either imprisoned in his ego or has not yet achieved one," Durckheim says:
     There is only one way out of this blind alley - to take the risk of leaping into that realm which the ego believes it has surmounted and which it fears. Only if a man dares to entrust himself again to the depth of his origin can he reach the height for which he was destined. In abandoning the consciousness anchored in his I and in relinquishing the world of opposites rooted in it, lies his sole chance for the unfolding of a higher form of consciousness which corresponds to the primal Oneness of Life. (Hara, p. 128.)

     Many years ago, I had several dreams. In one, I am the captain of a submarine that is cutting all of its ties with the shore world to dive into the darkness of my depths. In a second dream, I am leaping off the top of a building into the darkness, trusting that there will be something to grab hold of at the end of my leap of faith. In another, I am on a trapeze. I let go, blindly, trusting that someone, Spirit perhaps, will catch me as I fall. Eventually I did all this in my life too. I abandoned the consciousness anchored in my I and sought the depths of my origins. (Eugene Marks, memory.)