ASEBL Journal – Volume 10 Issue 1, January 2014
environment, but also in his . . . having the forest as an environment” (CN: 114). In
other words, a person enjoys the forest partly through being aware of being there.
Importantly, this mood doesn’t imply that a person is detached from the forest – a soul
haunting it like a will-o-the-wisp. On the contrary, a person’s “wish to converge with
nature reflects an appreciation of . . . there being no dualistic divide between him and
the world” (CN: 79): such an “opposition of ‘self and other’ . . . occludes an attentive
openness to things” (CN: 91). Indeed, convergence requires a person to be an
“engaged participant”: mindful, but no “mere spectator for whom forests, rivers, and
mountains are ‘scenery’” (CN: 112).
A “direct acquaintance with nature . . . is simply a more effective teacher than any
book or lecture” (CN: 52), Cooper insists. In experiencing convergence, we undergo a
“tuning [of] the mind as a whole,” as if from “darkness to light.” Furnishing us with a
new “orientation,” “the change is one in sensibilities, in attunement to the world”:
these “sensibilities learned through acquaintance with the rhythms and spontaneous
processes of natural life then become available to people when considering the
direction of their own lives” (CN: 52).
Nature’s educative role is at the heart of the “Daoist perspective” promised in
Cooper’s subtitle. Throughout the book, he quotes heavily from the Daodejing and
The Book of Zhuangzi – texts, dating from the third century BCE, which articulate the
notion of the Dao, or “Way.” Roughly speaking, the Way is a term of art which
subsumes the notions of profundity, oneness, transience, efflorescence and wonder to
be found in the natural world – these comprise nature’s Way, if you like – while also
harbouring a pedagogical meaning. As Cooper notes, “a way – a path for instance –
typically goes somewhere; it has a destination; it leads or guides those who are on it”
(CN: 16).
Where does the Way lead? Its trajectory is frequently compared in Daoist texts to that
of flowing water, and this analogy elucidates the convergent mindset of the “sage.”
Cooper explains:
Water has no shape of its own, but takes on that of its container; it flows
freely, but typically along a course or channel; agitated water does not reflect
its surroundings, whereas still water does; clear water, while it reflects well, is
itself hard to see; water does not ‘contend’, but flows past obstacles to its
destination; water flows downward to lie at the lowest level of a place. From
these observations, implications are drawn for the proper conduct of human
life. Some of these are not obvious, which suggests that the analogy is doing
real work in generating, not just poetically expressing, comparisons between
water and human life. Guided by the model, the sage will respond in a supple
way to circumstances; maintain stillness and clarity of mind, while
recognizing the difficulty of describing this state; act in a ‘feminine’, noncontending manner; and feel no shame in occupying a lowly station in society.
(CN: 51)
Cooper summarizes these qualities variously: “in his actions, gestures, demeanour and
speech, the sage shows himself to be responsive yet steady, focused yet spontaneous,
firm but flexible, reserved but accessible” (CN: 77), “alert and mindful” (CN: 78). He
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