China and the Tao

Sometimes, my life seems surreal, and perhaps no more so than now, having visited China, which has for so long drifted like a cloud across the sky of my dreams. It was a little more than 20 years ago that I first peered through the windows of Theosophy and Unitarianism and gazed into the still pond of Buddhism and was captivated by the flowing river of Taoism.

At first, I discovered the strange, exotic (and some would say fantastical) Tibetan world of Lobsang Rampa. I also remember having a book of Taoist poetry and reading a wonderful parable story full of Eastern wisdom that [name] introduced me to (it was called something like Journeys on the Razor-edged Path). I was so inspired by these Eastern philosophies that, on my 21st birthday, I added Tao as a middle name and later, in 2004 on a family trip to California, I devoured a pocket version of the Tao te Jing.

Not only was I fascinated by China’s ancient philosophies, but also seduced by the artistic beauty of its calligraphic writing and its impending economic rise to power as one of the ‘waking dragons’ of the East. For all of these reasons, I registered for a correspondence course in Mandarin through the University of South Africa in 1994. Unfortunately, I never completed the course, since my management consulting work with Gemini became too demanding, and I still sometimes wonder how different my career might have been had I persevered.

Above all else, I believe China is a master of learning. And as I read in today’s China Daily, the character for learning (xi) is partly derived from the non-simplified character meaning ‘feather’ or ‘wing’. Hence, the concept is inspired by a bird learning to fly. Nothing could be a more apt metaphor for China, which is like a young phoenix that has flown the nest and will soon be at home in the sky, so long as its two wings – social and environmental integrity – do not become damaged in its rapid upward flight.