In The Tao of Pooh, Benjamin Hoff explains the basic principles of Taoism through a source that most readers wouldn’t ordinarily associate with high-minded Chinese philosophy: A.A. Milne’s Winnie-the-Pooh books. According to Hoff, Pooh embodies Taoism’s fundamental message—that people are happier, healthier, and wiser when they live in harmony with nature than when they struggle against it. In the modern world, most people focus on chasing after their goals and overpowering the obstacles that life throws at them. In contrast, Taoists focus on “appreciating, learning from, and working with whatever happens in everyday life.” They prioritize simplicity, gratitude, and instinct over complexity, ambition, and cleverness. Hoff argues that Taoism, which he also calls “the way of Pooh,” can bring people happiness, serenity, and wisdom by teaching them to follow their inner nature and respect other beings and forces in the world.
Taoism’s central principle, as Hoff explains it, is that people should live in harmony with nature instead of fighting against it. Taoism is named after the principle of Tao, which Hoff defines as “the Way of the Universe.” Tao represents the patterns and rhythms of nature, which the ancient Taoist philosophers Lao-tse and Chuang-tse argue that humans must learn to follow. Therefore, Taoist teachings and practices are designed to help people understand the natural order of the world so that they can follow it. One of the most important principles in Taoism is the Uncarved Block, or P’u (which, Hoff notes, is pronounced just like “Pooh”). P’u refers to the simple, natural form of things—like a piece of wood that hasn’t been carved, or human beings in a state of calm reflection. Taoists like Hoff believe that everything achieves its greatest power in this simple state. Specifically, in the state of P’u, things fulfill their natural purpose and work in harmony with everything else in the world. Accordingly, Taoists strive to achieve P’u, which can then enable them to exercise Wu Wei, or effortless action. Hoff compares Wu Wei to the way that water naturally flows around obstacles (instead of struggling to flow over them). When people act effortlessly, they follow their instincts and generously accommodate whatever they find in their path. Ultimately, through Wu Wei, people fulfill their natural purpose in the world, rather than struggling to fill roles that aren’t meant for them.
Hoff uses Winnie the Pooh to illustrate how people can achieve true, sustainable happiness through Taoism. He points out that, in the Winnie-the-Pooh books, there’s a stark difference between the way Pooh lives and the way everyone else does. Rabbit anxiously runs around, trying to find treasures and solve problems, but gets lost and confused instead. Owl passes his days learning useless knowledge and practicing skills like spelling, which don’t make his life any richer or more fulfilling. And worst of all, Eeyore wastes his time complaining about life itself—he views its twists and turns as personal attacks against him. In contrast to his unhappy, unwise companions, Pooh Bear wanders around the Hundred Acre Wood in a state of stress-free delight. He’s compassionate, calm, and better at dealing with challenges than his more enthusiastic, strong-willed friends. This represents how Taoist sages—who dedicate themselves to quiet reflection—actually live better, more fulfilling lives than ordinary people. Although he’s a bear, Pooh also embodies the P’u (or simple natural state) of human beings: he lives a life of calm reflection and exercises what Taoists call “Empty Mind.” For instance, when Eeyore loses his tail, Pooh ignores Owl’s complicated plan for finding it and just looks around. Pooh thinks about nothing in particular but pays attention to his environment, and he finds the tail immediately. According to Hoff, Pooh’s simplemindedness shows that people should embrace their inner nature and follow the world’s lead instead of trying to change it. When they do, they live more relaxed lives and better achieve their potential.
Pooh also embodies Wu Wei, or effortless action. Hoff argues that, rather than trying too hard to think up solutions to problems, Pooh lets things “just sort of happen.” But his strategy is remarkably successful. Whereas Rabbit, Owl, and Pooh’s other friends hatch complicated plans to try and solve their problems, Pooh follows his instincts. Time after time, Pooh’s friends think that he isn’t helping them out—but he ends up fixing their issues. For instance, when the Very Small Beetle disappears, Rabbit organizes a large search party for it, but Pooh stumbles on it by himself. Pooh’s successful Wu Wei underlines the Taoist principle that people most successfully achieve their goals when they act naturally, without thinking. In fact, Pooh doesn’t even think about Taoism: during their many colorful conversations, Hoff realizes that Pooh still has no idea what Taoism is. But this doesn’t matter. Pooh doesn’t need to read his book or learn about Taoism, because he already embodies it. He knows how to appreciate the world as it is and enjoy his life without struggling endlessly to change it.
At the beginning of his book, Hoff uses a classic painting called The Vinegar Tasters to illustrate how Taoism teaches people to live long, happy, peaceful lives. The painting shows Confucius, Buddha, and Lao-tse all drinking vinegar, which represents life. Confucius and Buddha clearly don’t enjoy the vinegar, because both of them believe that the world is inherently evil and people should try to overcome their suffering by changing it. But Lao-tse is smiling because he believes that, even though the world may look sour at first, it’s actually full of beauty and goodness—people just have to learn where to look for it. The painting’s message is clear: by taking Taoist principles to heart, people can learn to enjoy and appreciate their lives.
In the Taoist tradition, self-knowledge is a fundamental part of wisdom because it is the first step towards self-acceptance. Hoff cites the concept of P’u (or the Uncarved Block) and Pooh’s song “Cottleston Pie” to argue that everyone and everything has its own special inner nature. While it’s impossible to capture this inner nature through words alone, Hoff argues, people can understand it by carefully reflecting on their authentic feelings and determining what makes them unique. Because Hoff argues that the key to wisdom is working in harmony with nature, he thinks that identifying and learning to follow one’s own inner nature is the first step towards enlightenment. Part of understanding one’s nature is understanding one’s value in the broader scheme of things. Hoff cites a famous Taoist story about a stonecutter who is jealous of a merchant, then becomes the merchant. The merchant is jealous of a powerful official, so he becomes the official—but then he’s jealous of the sun, so becomes the sun. Eventually, he becomes a great stone, and starts to envy the one person with the power to destroy him: the stonecutter. By failing to recognize his power and importance at the outset, the stonecutter pointlessly tries to become someone else. But when he learns about his own strengths, the stonecutter also learns to accept himself. Similarly, Hoff argues that people must understand their own weaknesses. He cites the traditional Chinese saying “one disease, long life; no disease, short life,” which means that people live better when they recognize their limitations. But if they don’t try to understand their own true nature, they will never clearly see their weaknesses at all.
According to Hoff, once people know themselves, the next crucial step is for them to accept themselves. Self-acceptance brings people into harmony with nature and allows them to flourish and grow. First, by accepting their inner nature, people discard the stress, tension, and misery that comes with fighting to change it. When they accept themselves just the way they are, people can start accommodating and adapting to their true inner nature. For instance, Chuang-tse turned down a prestigious position at the royal palace because he knew that it wouldn’t fit him: he said that he’d rather be “alive in the mud [than] dead in the palace.” People create conflict when they try to fight their inner nature—instead, Hoff argues, they should embrace it. In turn, by accepting their own inner nature, people can model self-understanding and self-acceptance for others. For instance, because Pooh accepts his own inner nature, he embraces Piglet—which helps Piglet learn to accept himself. In fact, Pooh and Piglet’s relationship also shows how self-acceptance can help people turn their weaknesses into strengths. Piglet initially sees his tiny size as a disadvantage, but Pooh helps Piglet realize that it’s actually an advantage: when Owl’s house blows down, Piglet is the only one small enough to escape. Finally, by accepting their inner nature, people can also realistically improve themselves over time. When people accept and believe in themselves, Hoff argues, they can achieve great things. For instance, after a spell of bad luck, Buckminster Fuller grew depressed and bitter. But then, he realized that he no longer had anything to lose by pursuing his dream of becoming an inventor. By accepting his own inner nature—his vocation as a scientist and inventor—Fuller motivated himself to transform his life and change the world with his inventions. This shows that people can improve and develop themselves best when they start by accepting who they truly are.
The key difference between ordinary people and Taoist masters like Pooh, Hoff argues, is that Taoists know how to follow their inner voices. But building self-knowledge requires years of careful reflection. Through this reflection, people can learn to accurately assess where they are, where they’re going, and how to get there. Over time, they can learn to truly accept themselves and stop fighting things they can’t change. Ultimately, while compassion and understanding are the foundation of self-acceptance, self-acceptance also makes people even more compassionate and understanding towards others. Therefore, in a classic example of the snowball effect (or what Hoff calls “The Tiddley-Pom Principle”), the wise few who truly accept themselves can help others do the same.
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Taoism, Nature, and Happiness 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.
To Lao-tse (LAOdsuh), the harmony that naturally existed between heaven and earth from the very beginning could be found by anyone at any time, but not by following the rules of the Confucianists. As he stated in his Tao Te Ching (DAO DEH JEENG), the “Tao Virtue Book,” earth was in essence a reflection of heaven, run by the same law—not by the laws of men. These laws affected not only the spinning of distant planets, but the activities of the birds in the forest and the fish in the sea. According to Lao-tse, the more man interfered with the natural balance produced and governed by the universal laws, the further away the harmony retreated into the distance. The more forcing, the more trouble.
Rather than turn away from “the world of dust,” Lao-tse advised others to “join the dust of the world.”
The basic Taoism that we are concerned with here is simply a particular way of appreciating, learning from, and working with whatever happens in everyday life. From the Taoist point of view, the natural result of this harmonious way of living is happiness. You might say that happy serenity is the most noticeable characteristic of the Taoist personality, and a subtle sense of humor is apparent even in the most profound Taoist writings, such as the twenty-five-hundred-year-old Tao Te Ching.
In the painting, why is Lao-tse smiling? After all, that vinegar that represents life must certainly have an unpleasant taste, as the expressions on the faces of the other two men indicate. But, through working in harmony with life’s circumstances, Taoist understanding changes what others may perceive as negative into something positive. From the Taoist point of view, sourness and bitterness come from the interfering and unappreciative mind. Life itself, when understood and utilized for what it is, is sweet. That is the message of The Vinegar Tasters.
The essence of the principle of the Uncarved Block is that things in their original simplicity contain their own natural power, power that is easily spoiled and lost when that simplicity is changed.
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.”
“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.”
How can you get very far,
If you don’t know Who You Are?
How can you do what you ought,
If you don’t know What You’ve Got?
And if you don’t know Which To Do
Of all the things in front of you,
Then what you’ll have when you are through
Is just a mess without a clue
Of all the best that can come true
If you know What and Which and Who.
Literally, Wu Wei means “without doing, causing, or making.” But practically speaking, it means without meddlesome, combative, or egotistical effort. It seems rather significant that the character Wei developed from the symbols for a clawing hand and a monkey, since the term Wu Wei means no going against the nature of things; no clever tampering; no Monkeying Around.
The efficiency of Wu Wei is like that of water flowing over and around the rocks in its path—not the mechanical, straight-line approach that usually ends up short-circuiting natural laws, but one that evolves from an inner sensitivity to the natural rhythm of things.
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.
It’s not the Clever Mind that’s responsible when things work out. It’s the mind that sees what’s in front of it, and follows the nature of things.
When you work with Wu Wei, you put the round peg in the round hole and the square peg in the square hole. No stress, no struggle. Egotistical Desire tries to force the round peg into the square hole and the square peg into the round hole. Cleverness tries to devise craftier ways of making pegs fit where they don’t belong. Knowledge tries to figure out why round pegs fit round holes, but not square holes. Wu Wei doesn’t try. It doesn’t think about it. It just does it.
Those who do things by the Pooh Way find this sort of thing happening to them all the time. It’s hard to explain, except by example, but it works. Things just happen in the right way, at the right time. At least they do when you let them, when you work with circumstances instead of saying, “This isn’t supposed to be happening this way,” and trying hard to make it happen some other way. If you’re in tune with The Way Things Work, then they work the way they need to, no matter what you may think about it at the time. Later on, you can look back and say, “Oh, now I understand. That had to happen so that those could happen, and those had to happen in order for this to happen…”
There was a man who disliked seeing his footprints and his shadow. He decided to escape from them, and began to run. But as he ran along, more footprints appeared, while his shadow easily kept up with him. Thinking he was going too slowly, he ran faster and faster without stopping, until he finally collapsed from exhaustion and died.
If he had stood still, there would have been no footprints. If he had rested in the shade, his shadow would have disappeared.
Let’s put it this way: if you want to be healthy, relaxed, and contented, just watch what a Bisy Backson does and then do the opposite. There’s one now, pacing back and forth, jingling the loose coins in his pocket, nervously glancing at his watch. He makes you feel tired just looking at him. The chronic Backson always seems to have to be going somewhere, at least on a superficial, physical level. He doesn’t go out for a walk, though; he doesn’t have time.
Our Bisy Backson religions, sciences, and business ethics have tried their hardest to convince us that there is a Great Reward waiting for us somewhere, and that what we have to do is spend our lives working like lunatics to catch up with it. Whether it’s up in the sky, behind the next molecule, or in the executive suite, it’s somehow always farther along than we are—just down the road, on the other side of the world, past the moon, beyond the stars…
“I was having an awful dream,” [Pooh] said.
“Oh?”
“Yes. I’d found a jar of honey…,” he said, rubbing his eyes.
“What’s awful about that?” I asked.
“It kept moving,” said Pooh. “They’re not supposed to do that. They’re supposed to sit still.”
“Yes, I know.”
“But whenever I reached for it, this jar of honey would sort of go someplace else.”
“A nightmare,” I said.
“Lots of people have dreams like that,” I added reassuringly.
“Oh,” said Pooh. “About Unreachable jars of honey?”
“About the same sort of thing,” I said. “That’s not unusual. The odd thing, though, is that some people live like that.”
“Why?” asked Pooh.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I suppose because it gives them Something to Do.”
“It doesn’t sound like much fun to me,” said Pooh.
No, it doesn’t.
The goal has to be right for us, and it has to be beneficial, in order to ensure a beneficial process. But aside from that, it’s really the process that’s important. Enjoyment of the process is the secret that erases the myths of the Great Reward and Saving Time. Perhaps this can help to explain the everyday significance of the word Tao, the Way.
What could we call that moment before we begin to eat the honey? Some would call it anticipation, but we think it’s more than that. We would call it awareness. It’s when we become happy and realize it, if only for an instant. By Enjoying the Process, we can stretch that awareness out so that it’s no longer only a moment, but covers the whole thing. Then we can have a lot of fun. Just like Pooh.
In order to take control of our lives and accomplish something of lasting value, sooner or later we need to learn to Believe. We don’t need to shift our responsibilities onto the shoulders of some deified Spiritual Superman, or sit around and wait for Fate to come knocking at the door. We simply need to believe in the power that’s within us, and use it. When we do that, and stop imitating others and competing against them, things begin to work for us.
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.
The principle can work negatively or positively. It can promote cynicism as easily as it can encourage hope. It can build hardened criminals or courageous heroes, stupid vandals or brilliant creators. The important thing is to make it work for yourself and for the benefit of others, or face the Ugly Consequences.
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.
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.
