“What’s the meaning of life?”, I asked Cecil as he lie snuggled between the cushions of the couch.

“It’s just this,” he answered as he closed his eyes and napped.

Cecil is my ten-year-old male Shih-Tzu that I adopted nine years ago when I was branch director of behavior and outreach of the Pennsylvania SPCA.  Cecil is also a Taoist sage.

Taoism is an ancient Chinese philosophy based the ancient book, the Tao Te Ching, supposedly written in the fourth century BCE by Lao-Tzu as a guide to the art of living. Whether or not Lao-Tzu was an actual person or an amalgamation of various wise men, is up for debate, but the wisdom in this simple book of eighty one short chapters has lived on through the centuries.  Later, Chuang-Tzu, another Taoist sage, elaborated on these ideas in his book: The Way of Chuang-Tzu.   Lao-Tzu, and Chuang-Tzu are considered two of the great minds of the Taoist way of life and philosophy. I would take the position that Cecil, the Shih-Tzu, is right beside them.

The philosophy of Taoism emphasizes living life in harmony with the Tao, which can be translated as the Way, the Path or the natural life. It focuses two fundamental concepts, Wu-Wei and P’u.  Both these concepts are the way that Cecil lives his life every day.

Wu-Wei means “not doing.”  This is not to be confused with being passive or lazy, however. It means not to add any unnecessary effort to life by not striving or forcing life to happen. Forcing a flower to grow by pulling on its stem will only serve to kill it. Wu-wei says to just allow the flower to follow its own way, and it will bloom.

“The Master doesn’t try to be powerful; thus he is truly powerful. The ordinary man keeps reaching for power; thus he never has enough.”

~ Tao Te Ching chapter 38, Stephen Mitchell translation

Cecil is a perfect example of this. I see him live this when we are at the dog park. He is only 15 pounds, but mingles with the larger and more aggressive dogs without fear of being bullied. He does this not by being assertive or aggressive with them, but by being fluid like water. Rather than trying to control, he goes with the flow. When a dog bothers him, he will allow his natural instincts to assert themselves, and when that situation ends, he peacefully and naturally moves on. He is like a “ball in a mountain stream”, to use a well known Zen metaphor. Not clinging, not striving, Cecil lives in peace and harmony even in the midst of dog park chaos. That is Wu-Wei.

P’u (pronounced pooh without so much “oo”), can be translated to the “uncarved block.” This was elaborated on in great detail by Benjamin Hoff in his book “The Tao of Pooh.”  Cecil’s teachings are in perfect alignment with the concept of p’u.

An uncarved block has infinite possibilities.  It is waiting for an artist’s gentle guidance to help it become what it will become. This is Cecil. Flexible, humble, easy going, he will adjust and adapt to any situation that arises. Whether it’s a day just lying on the couch, or a seven mile hike through thick brush, or a two week long road trip across the country, staying in cheap motels and hiking the windy mountains of Wyoming, Cecil abides. Never complaining, never stressing, Cecil takes on whatever shape fits him at the moment and flourishes in it. Cecil is a living example of p’u, a true Taoist master.

I have three dogs. Bhakti (which is Sanskrit for Devotion), Bodhicitta (which is Sanskrit for Awakened Heart), and Cecil. All three are my friends, my partners and my teachers. I learn a great deal from each of them on a daily basis. I’ve spent most of my adult life immersed in learning eastern philosophy such as Taoism, and I can truly say that Cecil has been one of my wisest teachers.

“When a dog does not dwell in self, then things will of themselves reveal their forms to him. His movement is like that of water, his stillness like that of a mirror, his responses like those of an echo.”

― Cecil, The Way of Shih-Tzu