The Tao of Pooh

I am reading the Tao of Pooh.

I know, right? The atheist is reading a religious book. Is Taoism a religion? I’m not sure. What is Taoism? I can’t tell you. If I tell you, I have to kill you. No, I’m just joking! I can’t tell you because, such is the nature of the Tao. You can only try and point it out, catch glimpses of it. But as soon as you try and pin it down with a definition, it flutters away like a butterfly, or like this kite that is taking Pooh with it.

I understand it in the same way I understand existentialism. And that is, just barely. I was introduced to existentialism through reading Samuel Beckett's Waiting for Godot in grade ten English with Mrs. Kress. I caught glimpses of what it was then. And since, I have tried to understand it better. Or have tried pretending that I understand it better than I do in order to appear smarter than I am.

As I’m reading the Tao of Pooh I’m beginning to realize, I’m not an atheist! I’m a Taoist… whatever that is. And aren’t we all whatever we are, regardless of what we choose to call ourselves? Why are we calling ourselves anything? See? That’s a glimpse of the Tao right there for ya! I think…

God seems to be like this too. In the past few months I keep catching glimpses of what I think God is. Here are some examples:

When I thought I’d try something different and then received a fortune cookie that said “Your curious nature will take you somewhere special.”

When I stopped being head strong and decided to listen to hubby and therefore realized what he was saying was absolutely right. And then watched the light in his eyes shine when he saw that I Value His Opinion.

When I was wondering what book to read next and then this little red Tao of Pooh book came floating right in front of me. If I had read it four months ago I wouldn’t have heard it. But maybe four months ago it wouldn’t have called to me.