"I heard Chieh Yü utter something unjustifiably extravagant and without either rhyme or reason.
This was an individual, named Lu T'ung, who feigned madness in order to escape an official career. For his interview with Confucius, see ch. iv, ad fin.
I was greatly startled at what he said, for it seemed to me boundless as the Milky Way, though very improbable and removed from the experiences of mortals."
"What was it?" asked Lien Shu.
"He declared," replied Chien Wu, "that on the Miao-ku-shê mountain
Which is as fabulous as the story.
there lives a divine man whose flesh is like ice or snow, whose demeanour is that of a virgin, who eats no fruit of the earth, but lives on air and dew, and who, riding on clouds with flying dragons for his team, roams beyond the limits of mortality. This being is absolutely inert. Yet he wards off corruption from all things, and causes the crops to thrive. Now I call that nonsense, and do not believe it."
"Well," answered Lien Shu, "you don't ask a blind man's opinion of a picture, nor do you invite a deaf man to a concert. And blindness and…
Chuang Tzu tells of a man who dismisses a story of a divine being—inert yet life-giving, needing nothing yet nourishing all things—as pure nonsense. The listener's doubt is understandable; the vision exceeds reason. But the reply cuts deeper: you cannot ask a blind man to judge a picture. Our instruments of judgment may themselves be the problem. What if the world's deepest laws move precisely where our eyes fail?
To the Same.
I have received from Mrs. ----, the things which you gave her for me. I wonder that you have not given me your thoughts of the little book I sent to you, and which you must have received. Pray set heartily about the practice of it in your old age: it is better late than never.
I cannot imagine how religious persons can live satisfied without the practice of the presence of GOD. For my part. I keep myself retired with Him in the fund or centre of my soul as much as I can; and while I am so with Him I fear nothing, but the least turning from Him is insupportable.
This exercise does not much fatigue the body; it is, however, proper to deprive it sometimes, nay often; of many little pleasures which are innocent and lawful, for GOD will not permit that a soul which desires to be devoted entirely to Him should take other pleasures than with Him: that is more than reasonable.
I do not say that therefore we must put any violent constraint upon ourselves. No, we must serve GOD in a holy freedom; we must do our business faithfully; without trouble or disquiet, recalling our…
Brother Lawrence answers by naming what that inert, nourishing presence actually is: God dwelling in the soul's center, available now, in this moment's work. Not a fabulous mountain but a practice—constant return to presence. He does not ask us to believe an impossible story, only to turn inward and find what is already there, untiring and real.
The softest thing in the world dashes against and overcomes the hardest; that which has no (substantial) existence enters where there is no crevice. I know hereby what advantage belongs to doing nothing (with a purpose). There are few in the world who attain to the teaching without words, and the advantage arising from non-action.
The softest thing overcomes the hardest; that which has no substance enters where nothing else can fit. This echoes both the divine being's inertness and Brother Lawrence's holy freedom—not force or effort, but yielding entry into the crevices of ordinary life.
All three voices trust a hidden order that moves through apparent inaction. Chuang Tzu preserves mystery and suspicion of the rational mind. Brother Lawrence names that mystery God and grounds it in love and daily work. Tao Te Ching offers the principle itself—softness, non-action, the invisible flowing everywhere. Yet they differ crucially: Chuang Tzu remains ironic about belief itself; Brother Lawrence demands devoted prayer and conscious relationship; Tao Te Ching speaks only the principle, indifferent to whether we worship it or simply follow it. All three say: stop trying so hard. But only Lawrence says: turn toward the One who waits.
Where am I forcing today, and where might I simply turn inward and listen?