What Is the Outcome of Seeking the Tao

Deiform Buddha

March 1, 2007

Seeking the Tao has no outcome.

Where is the Tao? "Fish live in water; humans exist within the Tao." We are already within the Tao, so where is there to go in seeking it?

Thus, the act of seeking the Tao is like “riding a donkey while searching for it” or asking, “The monk is still here, so where have I gone?”

When we regard ourselves as seekers of the Tao and feel smug or self-satisfied, thinking we are enlightened, that is precisely when we are most lost in self-delusion.

How could seeking the Tao ever have an outcome? Everything in the universe is a process. No matter how LIFE evolves, its essence is a process.

Therefore, to seek the Tao is to seek the process, not the outcome.

The wise words of Gao Shan Liu Shui remind us: “When the search for truth brings increasing joy to your life, then you are on the right path. But when it brings increasing pain, then your path is mistaken.” Indeed, this is true.

Are you happy and joyful in this very moment? If so, you have found the Tao and are resonating in harmony with it.

Are you troubled and distressed right now? If so, you have lost the Tao and are out of sync with it.

To seek the Tao means to seek happiness and joy. A day of happiness and joy is a day of attaining the Tao and living as a celestial. A lifetime of happiness and joy is a lifetime of living as a celestial.

Interestingly, those who live a lifetime of happiness and joy are the most likely to enter the heavenly kingdom, while those who live a lifetime of distress and anguish are less likely to do so.

So, let us seek happiness and joy. Pursue happiness and joy in every moment and savor the present. The experience of the present moment is the outcome. Seeking a future outcome is like chasing after tomorrow:

“Tomorrow upon tomorrow—how many tomorrows lie ahead? If we live for tomorrow, all will end in regret.”

Note: Explanation of the “The monk is still here, so where have I gone?” story mentioned above

Once upon a time, a government escort (known as a “guan chai” in ancient China, a type of subordinate government agent) was tasked with escorting a monk convicted of breaking monastic precepts to exile. Every morning, before setting out, the escort would carefully check four things: his belongings (including food and money), the official documents (needed to complete the mission), the monk (as losing him would mean grave consequences), and finally himself. Only after ensuring everything was accounted for would he begin the journey.

Day after day, they traveled together, crossing rushing streams, dense forests, desolate paths, and towering mountains. Over time, the escort and the monk grew familiar with each other, forming a bond like that of friends.

As they approached their destination, one cold and stormy evening, they stopped at an inn to rest. The monk, seeing an opportunity, said to the escort, “You’ve taken such good care of me on this long journey, and our parting is near. Let me repay your kindness. I still have some money left—shall we have a good meal and some wine tonight?”

The escort was delighted and called out for the best food and drink. Feeling relieved of his responsibilities for the night, he drank freely and soon fell into a deep, drunken sleep.

Seeing the escort had fallen into a deep sleep, the monk seized his chance. He found the key to his shackles, freed himself, and shaved the escort’s head clean. He then switched his prison robe for the escort’s clothing and locked the shackles around the escort’s ankles. Before leaving, the monk chuckled and said, “See you, my friend!” and disappeared into the night.

The next morning, the escort woke up feeling refreshed. As usual, he began his daily routine of checking everything before resuming the journey. First, his belongings—still there. Next, the official documents—also present. Then he looked for the monk but couldn’t find him. Confused, he started to rise, only to be tripped by the shackles now on his own legs. He rubbed his head and was shocked to feel smooth skin—his head was completely bald! Looking down, he realized he was wearing the monk’s robes.

A sudden thought struck him: “The monk is still here… so where have I gone?”

This humorous and thought-provoking story serves as a metaphor for losing oneself while navigating life’s processes, urging us to reflect on the elusive nature of self and identity.