Chinese poet Tao Qian (pinyin) aka T’ao Ch’ien (Wade-Giles) – who earlier in his life went by the name Tao Yuanming – lived in the late 4th and early 5th centuries CE, and was known for his love of chrysanthemums. Though he’s associated primarily with Taoism, his poems reflect a Buddhist influence also and, as it’s told, he counted among his friends no small number of Buddhist adepts.

This short story – “Peach Blossom Spring” – is rendered here into English, from the original Chinese, by A.

S. Klein. A ripe peach is a common Taoist symbol for Enlightenment.

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Peach Blossom Spring

A fisherman journeying along a stream reached a place where the banks were filled with Peach Blossom. There were fallen petals everywhere and a deep fragrance. The peach groves ended at the source of the stream where a spring came out of the hillside. Then he saw a narrow opening out of which light shone. He left his boat and went inside. He reached a land where everyone seemed happy. The people all came to see him and question him. They said their ancestors had travelled there to escape from the empire of Ch’in and that no one had ever wished to return. They knew nothing of the dynasties of Han and Wei and were amazed at what he told them. He stayed for a while and before leaving they told him that nothing would be gained by revealing their existence.

When he emerged from the hill he took to his boat. He retraced his journey noting every turning. When he returned home he told about his adventure. He was sent with others to show them the route but it was lost. And no one ever found the way there again.

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To my ear, this is such a charming little fable, steeped as it is in Taoist and Buddhist symbolism, and dovetailing in a number of ways with the issues we recently explored in Sounds, Swords, Sonnets – e.g. the possibility of articulating “that which can’t be spoken” and/or pointing others skillfully in this (directionless) direction. So let’s take a closer look …..

The story begins with a fisherman journeying along the banks of a stream. Being a fisherman, he is of course interested in catching fish, which we might take to be symbolic of worldly accumulation and accomplishment. But somehow, in this particular instance, he finds himself wandering upstream, rather than downstream. Instead of being pulled along unconsciously by the superficial currents of worldly habits, he now finds himself drawn by a deeper pull, emanating from the very Source of the stream.

In walking upstream, he reaches a place where its banks are filled with peach blossoms. As mentioned above, a ripe peach is a common Taoist symbol for awakening to/as the Body and Mind of Tao. The fragrance of peach blossoms is akin, then, to catching a glimpse of the “territory” of awakening. In terms of the Buddhist Ten Ox-Herding Pictures, we might say that the scent of peach blossoms is something like coming across the footprints of the Ox, or perhaps catching sight of the Ox’s tail.

So the fisherman finds himself surrounded by fallen peach petals (a clear premonition of peaches on their way) emanating their deep, sweet fragrance, in this orchard that ends at a bubbling spring -- which is the source of the stream. The fisherman here is experiencing the delightfully subtle fragrance of awakening, which permeates manifest phenomena (such as the peach trees) close to their Source.

Having arrived – rather mysteriously, through no apparent effort of his own – at this spring, the fisherman now sees a narrow opening. Through this narrow opening, a bright lights shines. In the language of Buddhism, we might say that this bright light is akin to a nimitta – Pure Awareness reflecting as a light in the mind, which, when surrendered to, takes the practitioner into the Jnanas, into Samadhi: nondual absorption.

The fisherman follows this light into a land where everyone seems happy. Staying with the Buddhist idiom, we could say that our fisherman-friend is now enjoying piti-sukha: the joy-happiness associated with the Jnanas. In contrast with the limited happiness of personal power (e.g. gaining fame as the most successful of all fisherman) or sensual pleasure (e.g. relishing ever-more-delicious fish-dishes) – which tend to fuel the suffering of dualistic ignorance -- the happiness of piti-sukha serves as fuel for genuine spiritual insight. It is the happy, peaceful, content and satisfied mind which is able to clearly understand suffering, impermanence and emptiness – en route to dissolving fully into its True Nature.

In speaking with these happy people, the fisherman learns that their ancestors came there long ago, to escape from the empire of Ch’in, and no one ever wished to return. This is an interesting point in the story – as it references a sense of renunciation, as well as the timelessness of awakened mind – yet also seems a bit at odds with, say, the tenth Ox-herding picture, in which the awakened Sage returns to the world, to mingle with the towns-people.

As the fisherman is preparing to leave the land of the happy people, he is told that “nothing will be gained by revealing their existence.” To my ear, this resonates with a Rangtong perspective, according to which any attempt to speak the unspeakable simply renders the experience as a conceptual object. Since the true ontological status of those living in the happy-kingdom is neither existence nor non-existence – to speak of their “existence” is to kill the nondual experience which is the true substance of the happy-people.

Not quite ready to actually eat the peach, the fisherman casts their sage advice aside, hops back into his boat, and travels downstream again into the world – mapping the journey precisely (or so he believes) on his way back. When among his worldly friends again, he narrates the adventure and then – having piqued their curiosity – assumes the role of a travel-guide. But alas, rendered thus as an attractive object, the goal remains elusive. The trail has disappeared, and “no one ever found the way there again.”

I love how this fable points to the power of grace, and how glimpses of truth, when authentic, almost always arrive as gifts, wholly unbidden. They’re the fruit of casting our line deep into mystery, with an attitude of not-knowing, a willingness to surrender. The moment we become overly aggressive in our seeking, constituting a rigid “me” who arrogantly (with map in hand) goes about storming the gates of heaven ….. Truth recedes, cloaked in a fragrance imperceptible to such crude antics.

It brings up questions re: how powerful a glimpse must be, to serve as an inoculation against ever falling back into ignorance. I once heard a clear glimpse of Truth described as being something like recovering from chickenpox. Once you’ve recovered (via the glimpse of Truth), your system is fully immune to ever getting the disease (of dualistic ignorance) again. Perhaps then a smaller glimpse is more like recovering from the flu – with still a good possibility of being stricken again? 

Who knows …..  

Of Related Interest

* Poems Of Tao Qian (T’ao Ch’ien)
* Booster Engines & Causeless Happiness
* Tao, The Ten-Thousnad-Things & Dongshan's Five Ranks