Laozi, rolling out of town on his Ox

Here’s how the Tao Te Ching came to be. Legend has it Laozi, fed up with people, that is to say, “sivilized” people, decided one day to split town on his Ox, ramble on out to the western wilderness, where he might spend the remainder of his days hanging with some Mongol broads, or sit on his ass all day, eating pomegranates and smoking hootch, or stare at the fat Goldfish weaving among themselves in a limpid pool, or doing whatever the fuck he feels like doing, long as he’s out of range of rules and regulations and bills and bullshit-talking people. But as he’s moving through the city gate, about to toss his middle finger as a gesture of good riddance to the Hoods where he spent his long ass life, the Keeper Of The Gate, a young man of impressive stature, steps up and grabs the Ox by the halter. He implores the old dude to jot down a fragment of his wisdom before splitting the scene. Fair enough, says old Laozi, I’ll give you my two cents. And he did. He got off his ox, sat on a rock, and jotted down his meaning of life and how to live it. Took him half an hour or so. The Guard, so impressed by the Old Man’s words, packed his shit and joined Laozi on his journey.

Scholars claim this story is pretty much made up bullshit.

I believe every word of it.

Here’s the first chapter of the Tao, translated by Ron Hogan:

If you can talk about it,
it ain’t Tao.
If it has a name,
it’s just another thing.

Tao doesn’t have a name.
Names are for ordinary things.

Stop wanting stuff;
it keeps you from seeing what’s real.
When you want stuff,
all you see are things.

Those two sentences
mean the same thing.
Figure them out,
and you’ve got it made.

This is the gist of all the text that follows. If this opening chapter is all you read of the Tao, and you get it, you’re good. You’re like this goofy dude that repaired my transom after a sailing school boat slammed into it. I see him wandering the docks with his tools. Always got a goofy grin on his face. His life is very simple. He owns practically nothing. His ride is a ten speed bike. He camps for free on the Sailing School boats. Does he have a girlfriend? Not unless he found one as goofy as he is. His name is Travis.

Travis don’t need to read the Tao. He is the Tao.

I like Dogs and maybe three people. Travis is one of them. Why am I including Travis? Shit, I don’t know. I do know. Because when I run into him, standing there with his goofy grin, I feel good all of a sudden. I feel like I’m in tune with the Tao.

Maybe I’m not your typical Bum

I tell people what I plan to do they look at me weird. I don’t care what they think. I care what I think. And what I think I’ll do is sell my boat, toss out most of my shit, and go live in a van. This van.

I gotta straighten out the license plate. But otherwise, the van is perfect. A hundred and three thousand original miles. That’s nothing for a 2002 Toyota Sienna. All I gotta do is pop the seats out and set up a cot. Make window coverings. Ice chest for raw veggies and cheese and salami. What else? Can’t think right now. Anyway, I’m looking forward to living in this van. Standing next to this van makes me feel good. Kind of like I feel when I encounter Travis.

Maybe I’m not a typical Bum. I am a bum, however…I mean I will be a bum as soon as I move onto the street. I’m looking forward to it. This is odd. Why would an otherwise normal person look forward to becoming a bum? To moving onto the street? Normal people don’t choose hard times, they fall onto them. What the hell am I thinking?

I don’t know the exact answer to that.

Maybe I’m not a normal person. I feel like a normal person. When I look in the mirror I see an old dude that’s fairly normal. I got no sick or twisted shit in my history…unless you include that kid I buried alive when I was twelve years old. That episode doesn’t bother me because I figure the kid got what he deserved plus he didn’t die. No, I don’t feel abnormal. So why would I look forward to moving onto the street and living like a bum?

Well, all I can say for certain is, me getting rid of my shit and moving onto the street, that is to say 8 inches above the street, in the afore mentioned toyota sienna, is kind of like having a Tao.

The Tao Of Gloomy? I dunno. Sounds like I’m conning myself.

I’ll keep you posted…