In China, in the fourth century BCE, the sage Chuang Tzu told the story of Ching, a master carpenter who created an extraordinarily beautiful stand for bells. The story began with Prince Lu asking the craftsman to make a bell stand from wood. Unlike other workmen, Ching did not start right away.
First, he “guarded his spirit,” being careful not to waste his vital energy on distractions. After three days, he no longer thought about the reward he would gain. Two more days, and he forgot about fame. By the seventh day, awareness of the royal court had vanished.
At this point, Ching’s only thought was of the stand for bells, so he was ready to go to the forest and look for wood. When he “saw” the bell stand within one particular tree, he knew he’d found the right material. All that remained was for him to extend his hand and begin.
This quiescent, effortless kind of action the Taoists of ancient China called wu-wei. Wu-wei is a paradoxical experience because during it action (movement) arises from inaction (mental stillness). Something below the ordinary mind (call it God, the Tao, or the subconscious) rises up, prompting the person to act. The result often surprises the thinking mind, because it was not the “doer” of the act.
According to Chuang Tzu, Ching’s tale was not just instructive for carpenters. His story was for everyone because it demonstrated how to embody clarity and peace while acting skillfully in the world. Even though we live more than two-thousand years later in America, Ching’s tale can guide us as we explore our own creativity in the Art of Surrender process.
At first, this expressive art practice is often done effortlessly—with a restless, striving mind. But with practice, it’s possible for our creative process to unfold through wordless, effortless actions—as wu-wei.
In order for this to occur, we begin by shifting from thinking to feeling—to wordless self-sensing. Then, we open to our inner life—including our divine Source—and to the creative materials before us. From within this spacious, felt awareness, we wait to see if words and/or images arise. If they do, we allow them to flow through us, onto the page. When we rest in this quiet, receptive awareness while creating, our process reflects the ancient Chinese experience of wu-wei.*
Note
*This version of Ching’s story is from Thomas Merton’s The way of Chuang Tzu, and David Loy’s Nonduality.