Inexhaustible

Use it! It cannot be exhausted

What is the relationship between Schopenhauer’s will and the Dao?

Last week, I wrote about the insatiable nature of the will in Schopenhauer, arguing that its characteristic is its insatiability, its irrepressible striving. For Schopenhauer, all of nature, including humans, strives constantly after objects. If we attain our objective, we are satisfied only very briefly before we take up a new object. This dynamic, on the whole, leads to misery.

A few weeks before, I wrote on Daoism, and (separately) on the Daoist concept of wu-wei, or “effortless action.” Wu-wei seems to be about not striving, and spontaneously aligning with the Dao.

On the surface, the Dao seems pretty much the opposite of Schopenhauer’s will.

In this article, I’ll argue that the two positions are related.

In short: The Dao and the Will are two ways of looking at the same thing. They describe the same facet of nature, but they differ in perspective. Because of this difference, they appear to give opposite prescriptions in how humans should relate to nature. But in fact the prescriptions themselves might also align.

Inexhaustible

If the will is insatiable, the Dao is inexhaustible.

The Dao is famously difficult to describe. But one thing that is clear in the Daodejing is that the Dao is an inexhaustible resource. It can be used, but never used up.

It never needs filling:

The Tao is empty
Utilize it, it is not filled up
So deep! It seems to be the source of all things […]
(Tao Te Ching 4)

Ames and Hall produced a philosophical translation of the Daodejing. This is from their commentary on verse 4, which is the first verse to reference the unfathomable depth of the Dao:

Repeatedly the Daodejing expresses a fascination for the way in which an indeterminate source spontaneously and inexhaustibly gives rise to the provisionally determinate phenomena that we experience around us. This cosmic creativity is always expressed through the particular foci that constitute it. As a microcosm of this cosmic macrocosm, then, we too have a spring of indeterminate energy within us. It is by tapping this internal font of spontaneity that we are best able to engage the world aesthetically at the level of immediate feeling. Rather than relying upon externally acquired and often ineffectual learning, we should look to this inner source.

Spontaneity is a key aspect of wu-wei. We tap this “internal font of spontaneity,” and this font is inexhaustible. From it, we can act without tiring, because are aligned and not resisting the nature of things. It is something like the flow state.¹ Time and effort disappear as we playfully exert ourselves.

The valley spirit, undying
Is called the mystical female
The gateway of the mystical female
Is called the root of Heaven and Earth
It flows continuously, barely perceptible
Utilize it, it is never exhausted
(Tao Te Ching 6)

I think that insatiability and inexhaustibility are two sides of the same coin.

Nature (and humankind, as part of nature) contains processes which ceaselessly strive towards objects. If a process obtains its object, it quickly strives after another. Extrapolating out from this, we realize that the process is endless; it can never be satisfied. This is how Schopenhauer describes the will.

But if we focus on the process itself, rather than its object, we see that the process strives ceaselessly. To strive ceaselessly requires an inexhaustible source of energy.

[…] The Tao that is spoken out of the mouth
Is bland and without flavor
Look at it, it cannot be seen
Listen to it, it cannot be heard
Use it, it cannot be exhausted
(Tao Te Ching 35)

Schopenhauer likes to divide things up into the subjective and objective, although he wisely resists any simplistic subject-object dualism, since he thinks they depend on each other.

Let’s do the same. First we’ll take the “objective” view (ignoring the subject) to understand Schopenhauer’s perspective. Then we’ll take a “subjective” view (ignoring the object) to understand the Daoist perspective.

Schopenhauer: “I am constantly striving towards X; reaching X, it gives way to Y”

If we ignore the subject, and focus on the object, then Schopenhauer’s pessimistic view arises; we see clearly that there is no final resting place. We feel the futility of chasing an object that is simply replaced by another object. Therefore the prescription is to resist the “nature of things,” to turn the will against itself and detach from striving. This is what Schopenhauer calls “denial of the will-to-live,” which Nietzsche will later oppose so strongly.

The Dao: “I am constantly striving towards X; reaching X, it gives way to Y”

If, on the other hand, we ignore the object of our striving, we notice that we as subjects have an endless source of energy. The claim is not that energy is inexhaustible, but that, so long as we are alive, a vital energy flows through us and is continually replenished. Even when our own flow comes to an end — or even when a species comes to an end — the flow continues. The Dao, encompassing all of nature, therefore all kingdoms of life, includes all of this in its ceaselessness.

Great perfection seems flawed
Its function is without failure
Great fullness seems empty
Its function is without exhaustion
Great straightness seems bent
Great skill seems inept
Great eloquence seems inarticulate
Movement overcomes cold
Stillness overcomes heat
Clear quietness is the standard of the world
(Tao Te Ching 45)

The two perspectives produce apparently opposing relationships between “humans” and “nature.”

If nature is described as the insatiable will, which strives ceaselessly after objects, then focusing on objects certainly will lead to misery. To align with the will, from Schopenhauer’s perspective, is a fool’s errand, leading us to chase one disappointment after another.

But if nature is described as the inexhaustible Dao, which provides an endless flow of energy, then focusing on the Dao can provide a way out of the trap of chasing objects. To align with the Tao is to tap a bottomless well of energy.

Another reframe: If we focus on individual objects, a lifeform seeking food, its task can seem Sisyphean. It seeks food to get energy, and it uses energy to seek more food, and so on until it dies.

Schopenhauer’s view is bleak. It reminds me of a song by Metric:

Buy this car to drive to work
Drive to work to pay for this car
Buy this car to drive to work
Drive to work…
— Metric, “Handshakes,” Live It Out (2005)

But we don’t typically feel that it’s bleak to eat food, which gives us the energy to do many things, only one of which is figuring out our next meal. Food normally provides us with a surplus of energy, which can in itself become a problem, but which allows a multitude of possible imaginative and creative actions.

When viewed as a process, life itself is a self-reinforcing, autocatalytic, or autopoietic cycle. There’s little bleak about these.

I think that Nietzsche comes closer to the Daoist perspective on life:

Physiologists should think before putting down the instinct of self-preservation as the cardinal instinct of an organic being. A living thing seeks above all to discharge its strength—life itself is will to power; self-preservation is only one of the indirect and most frequent results. (Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil, Part One, §13, trans. Kaufmann)

Life loves to exert itself; it feels good to be in flow.

Next week, I’ll look at the Daoist view of desire, and how it relates to Neither/Nor.

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This post is the fifth in a series. Here are previous entries:

1. Though, as I specified previously, wu-wei probably does not have the flow state’s requirement of desirable difficulty.