You’ve had a vivid and intense dream. During this dream, you had a powerful and life-changing insight. You know this is important, and you want to ensure you remember it.

When you wake up in the morning, still groggy, the dream flashes by. Suddenly, you remember that you want to write this down because it is important.

You get out of bed, grab a paper and pen, and start to write what you saw in your dream. As you begin writing, you stop. The experience is slipping away like wisps of smoke in the air. You don’t know what to write. You do know it’s important, and you try to grasp the tendrils of the dream, but it slips away, leaving you frustrated.

When I read “The Tao of Pooh” by Benjamin Hoff for the second time, I experienced the book as if it were new. So many insights jumped out at me, and they were life-changing. But as days go by, they slip away like a dream.

As I sit down to write this edition of the newsletter, I know I have to write about P’u, the uncarved block. I thought I understood the concept, but when I started to write, I realised I didn’t know how to explain it. I realised I might not understand it as well as I thought.

This is unique to many ancient philosophies, particularly Taoism. The book, ‘Tao of Pooh’ by Benjamin Hoff is based on Taoist Philosophies as expounded in Lao Tse’s “Tao Te Ching” and A.A. Milne’s Winne the Pooh stories.

There is a reason why Hoff uses characters from Winnie the Pooh stories to explain Taoist philosophy: Tao is hard to explain. This is illustrated in the opening verses of Tao Te Ching.

This verse gives you an idea of the limitations of language, words and concepts to get a sense of Tao, the Way. Tao is to be experienced, and words can’t do it justice. With that in mind, let’s dive into one of the fundamental concepts of Taoism: P’u, the uncarved block.

In the typical Taoist fashion, this explains a lot, yet nothing. I pondered what this means to me and how I can apply it to my life.

Ursula Le Guinn (yes, the famous fantasy writer of the Earthsea series) translates P’u as natural, uncut wood. It refers to something in its natural state. A tree, in its natural state and original simplicity, contains its natural power. This power is lost and spoiled when we cut down its wood and use it to make a house, desk, or paper.

The natural power of my being, which is more than how I think of myself, how others perceive me, and how I present myself to the world (and to myself), is spoiled when layered by all these perceptions. My doing carves out the uncarved being, and I mistake all those carved blocks for my uncarved block.

So, to be in alignment with the Tao, I have to return to my being. What is my being without all the doing?

This is an inquiry and a journey of a lifetime.

Another train of thought that I had was that this moment, the NOW, is pregnant with possibilities, like an uncarved block. I have many choices in this very moment, within me no matter what the external circumstances are.

Eckhart Tolle describes this well:

Hoff illustrates Pooh as the embodiment of P’u, the uncarved block. Pooh embodies the simplicity of the uncarved block. Pooh has the ability to do things spontaneously. Pooh enjoys the simple and quiet, the natural and the plain. Pooh works with what is.

I leave you with a question to reflect, “How does P’u apply to you?”

With this, we round up this edition of the newsletter. I hope you read “The Tao of Pooh” by Benjamin Hoff alongside this series and enjoy it as much as I did.

In the next edition, we will examine knowledge, cleverness and wisdom.

And here is the customary tiny story.

The Taoist Farmer

There was once a farmer in ancient China who owned a horse. “You are so lucky!” his neighbours told him, “to have a horse to pull the cart for you.” “Maybe,” the farmer replied.

One day he didn’t latch the gate properly and the horse ran off. “Oh no! This is terrible news!” his neighbours cried. “Such terrible misfortune!” “Maybe,” the farmer replied.

A few days later the horse returned, bringing with it six wild horses. “How fantastic! You are so lucky,” his neighbours told him. “Now you are rich!” “Maybe,” the farmer replied.

The following week the farmer’s son was breaking-in one of the wild horses when it kicked out and broke his leg. “Oh no!” the neighbours cried, “such bad luck, all over again!” “Maybe,” the farmer replied.

The next day soldiers came and took away all the young men to fight in the war. The farmer’s son was left behind. “You are so lucky!” his neighbours cried. “Maybe,” the farmer replied.

💌 Siri