In The Tao of Pooh, Benjamin Hoff argues that Taoism requires understanding the world in an entirely new way—one that many of his readers probably haven’t tried before. It’s not enough to simply learn lots of information or know about the truth in the abstract, he argues. Instead, to truly live well, people must feel the truth and embody it through their actions. Hoff thinks that too many people pursue knowledge instead of wisdom—they try to name and define truths about the world instead of simply living them out. Whereas people gain abstract knowledge in order to impose their will on the world, Hoff argues, they gain wisdom in order to live in harmony with that world. In other words, people use knowledge to turn things against their true purpose, while wisdom involves using things for their proper purpose. Hoff encourages his readers to pursue wisdom rather than knowledge because wisdom helps people achieve the state of happiness and serenity that Taoists call enlightenment, while mere knowledge distances them from it.
According to Taoists like Hoff, knowledge and cleverness don’t help people achieve true happiness, but actually bring them farther away from it. Hoff argues that “Knowledge for the sake of Knowledge” is counterproductive because it fills people’s minds with abstract ideas and concepts, when living in harmony with the world requires people to have an empty mind and interact with the world based on instinct. When they focus too much on knowledge, Hoff argues, people distract themselves from the real world that’s right in front of them. This prevents them from connecting with that world or achieving real happiness. In fact, much knowledge is pointless. Hoff illustrates this with a line from Pooh’s song “Cottleston Pie” that goes: “why does a chicken, I don’t know why.” Hoff thinks that it doesn’t matter why a chicken does what it does—rather, what matters is simply recognizing that a chicken naturally does what it does. Instead of trying to understand every detail, Hoff argues, people should learn to live and let live. Similarly, Hoff argues that many major philosophical questions are unimportant, because asking them just distracts people from the truth. He suggests that scholars and academics who focus on these questions care so much about knowledge that they never develop wisdom. In the Winnie-the-Pooh books, Pooh’s friend Owl embodies the absurdity and pointlessness of this kind of academic knowledge. For instance, he confuses Pooh and Piglet by using complex words like “customary procedure” instead of simpler ones, like “the Thing to Do.” Just like Confucian scholars and contemporary Western academics, Owl is more interested in showing off his knowledge that using it to live a better life or improve the world. And because he uses his knowledge for the wrong purpose, Owl is often hilariously wrong—for instance, he pompously asserts that “Tuesday” is spelled “Twosday” because “it’s the second day of the week,” which means that the next day is obviously called “Thirdsday.” He assumes the question is abstract and complicated when it’s straightforward, so he overthinks it, wastes his time, and misses the truth. This represents the way scholars’ pursuit of knowledge for its own sake actually leads them away from the world’s fundamental truths.
Hoff argues that wisdom is more important than knowledge because it does lead people towards happiness and enlightenment. Whereas knowledge means understanding certain truths about the world in the abstract, true wisdom means incorporating those truths into one’s way of living in the world. Knowledge is the theory of living well, while wisdom is the practice. For instance, while academic scholars might focus on explaining why Taoist masters say that people should live simply, true Taoists just focus on living simply. Lao-tse’s rule of thumb is that people who pursue knowledge focus on addition—they add new things to their lives and new information to their minds. In contrast, people who pursue wisdom focus on subtraction—they remove unnecessary things from their lives and unnecessary ideas from their minds. This illustrates the difference between knowledge about Taoism, which means learning many truths about the world, and Taoist wisdom, which means truly living out those truths. But Hoff argues that wisdom is difficult to achieve because it’s impossible to fully describe it through words—people must understand it through instinct instead. This is why Taoists prefer to illustrate their principles through parables, rather than explaining them directly. This is also why Hoff doesn’t overanalyze or over-explain the Pooh anecdotes he uses to illustrate his points: he wants his readers to approach Pooh’s Taoism through feeling and instinct, not analysis and intellect. Finally, wisdom isn’t just in the mind: it’s also about the heart. Namely, wisdom requires compassion, care, or appreciation (Tz’u). By caring about other people, beings, and things, wise people learn to live in harmony with them. Pooh’s caring relationship with Piglet illustrates this principle: his compassion helps Piglet believe in himself and makes them inseparable friends. This shows how Pooh’s wisdom improves not only his own life, but also those of the people around him.
For Hoff, then, it’s impossible to truly become a Taoist just by listening to others or reading books—including his own. Such an education can be a jumping-off point for people to pursue wisdom and enlightenment through individual practice, Hoff argues, but it’s really just like the first step on “a thousand-mile journey.” This journey’s end point is enlightenment. But enlightenment doesn’t mean becoming all-knowing, all-powerful, or highly developed. Rather, it means learning to declutter the mind and experience the world authentically. By pursuing wisdom over the course of a lifetime, Taoists can often reach the enlightened mindset of “the independent, clear-minded, all-seeing Child.” Like Pooh, “a Bear of Little Brain,” Taoist sages don’t know everything about the world—in fact, their minds are usually empty, not “Stuffed-Full-of-Knowledge-and-Cleverness.” But this is precisely what allows them to live serene, happy, flourishing lives.
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Knowledge vs. Wisdom Quotes in The Tao of Pooh
“What’s that?” the Unbeliever asked.
“Wisdom from a Western Taoist,” I said.
“It sounds like something from Winnie-the-Pooh,” he said.
“It is,” I said.
“That’s not about Taoism,” he said.
“Oh, yes it is,” I said.
“No, it’s not,” he said.
“What do you think it’s about?” I said.
“It’s about this dumpy little bear that wanders around asking silly questions, making up songs, and going through all kinds of adventures, without ever accumulating any amount of intellectual knowledge or losing his simpleminded sort of happiness. That’s what it’s about,” he said.
“Same thing,” I said.
Pooh can’t describe the Uncarved Block to us in words; he just is it. That’s the nature of the Uncarved Block.
“A perfect description. Thank you, Pooh.”
Lao-tse wrote, “The wise are not learned; the learned are not wise.”
On Monday, when the sun is hot,
I wonder to myself a lot:
“Now is it true, or is it not,
That what is which and which is what?”
On Tuesday, when it hails and snows,
The feeling on me grows and grows
That hardly anybody knows
If those are these or these are those.
On Wednesday, when the sky is blue
And I have nothing else to do,
I sometimes wonder if it’s true
That who is what and what is who.
On Thursday, when it starts to freeze,
And hoarfrost twinkles on the trees,
How very readily one sees
That these are whose—but whose are these?
On Friday…
“Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie,
A fly can’t bird, but a bird can fly.
Ask me a riddle and I reply:
“Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie.”
Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie,
A fish can’t whistle and neither can I.
Ask me a riddle and I reply:
“Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie.”
Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie,
Why does a chicken. I don’t know why.
Ask me a riddle and I reply:
“Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie.”
When we learn to work with our own Inner Nature, and with the natural laws operating around us, we reach the level of Wu Wei. Then we work with the natural order of things and operate on the principle of minimal effort. Since the natural world follows that principle, it does not make mistakes. Mistakes are made or imagined by man, the creature with the overloaded Brain who separates himself from the supporting network of natural laws by interfering and trying too hard.
The two Fearless Rescues just mentioned bring us to one of the most important terms of Taoism: Tz’u, which can be translated as “caring” or “compassion” and which is based upon the character for heart. In the sixty-seventh chapter of the Tao Te Ching, Lao-tse named it as his “first treasure,” and then wrote, “From caring comes courage.” We might add that from it also comes wisdom. It’s rather significant, we think, that those who have no compassion have no wisdom. Knowledge, yes; cleverness, maybe; wisdom, no. A clever mind is not a heart. Knowledge doesn’t really care. Wisdom does.
Do you want to be really happy? You can begin by being appreciative of who you are and what you’ve got. Do you want to be really miserable? You can begin by being discontented.
What Chuang-tse, Christopher Robin, and Pooh are describing is the Great Secret, the key that unlocks the doors of wisdom, happiness, and truth. What is that magic, mysterious something? Nothing. To the Taoist, Nothing is something, and Something—at least the sort of thing that many consider to be important—is really nothing at all.
An Empty sort of mind is valuable for finding pearls and tails and things because it can see what’s in front of it. An Overstuffed mind is unable to. While the Clear mind listens to a bird singing, the Stuffed-Full-of-Knowledge-and-Cleverness mind wonders what kind of bird is singing. The more Stuffed Up it is, the less it can hear through its own ears and see through its own eyes. Knowledge and Cleverness tend to concern themselves with the wrong sorts of things, and a mind confused by Knowledge, Cleverness, and Abstract Ideas tends to go chasing off after things that don’t matter, or that don’t even exist, instead of seeing, appreciating, and making use of what is right in front of it.
“To attain knowledge, add things every day. To attain wisdom, remove things every day.”
The end of the cycle is that of the independent, clear-minded, all-seeing Child. That is the level known as wisdom. When the Tao Te Ching and other wise books say things like, “Return to the beginning; become a child again,” that’s what they’re referring to. Why do the enlightened seem filled with light and happiness, like children? Why do they sometimes even look and talk like children? Because they are. The wise are Children Who Know.
There the Pooh books come to an end, in the Enchanted Place at the top of the Forest. We can go there at any time. It’s not far away; it’s not hard to find. Just take the path to Nothing, and go Nowhere until you reach it. Because the Enchanted Place is right where you are, and if you’re Friendly With Bears, you can find it.
The one chance we have to avoid certain disaster is to change our approach, and to learn to value wisdom and contentment. These are the things that are being searched for anyway, through Knowledge and Cleverness, but they do not come from Knowledge and Cleverness. They never have, and they never will. We can no longer afford to look so desperately hard for something in the wrong way and in the wrong place. If Knowledge and Cleverness are allowed to go on wrecking things, they will before much longer destroy all life on earth as we know it, and what little may temporarily survive will not be worth looking at, even if it would somehow be possible for us to do so.
Within each of us there is an Owl, a Rabbit, an Eeyore, and a Pooh. For too long, we have chosen the way of Owl and Rabbit. Now, like Eeyore, we complain about the results. But that accomplishes nothing. If we are smart, we will choose the way of Pooh. As if from far away, it calls to us with the voice of a child’s mind. It may be hard to hear at times, but it is important just the same, because without it, we will never find our way through the Forest.
To know the Way,
We go the Way;
We do the Way
The way we do
The things we do.
It’s all there in front of you,
But if you try too hard to see it,
You’ll only become Confused.
I am me,
And you are you,
As you can see;
But when you do
The things that you can do,
You will find the Way,
And the Way will follow you.
