Watts kicks things off by pointing out how our thinking in the West is deeply influenced by our language and logic. He suggests we often see the world like a game of billiards, where everything is made up of separate little 'particles' bouncing off each other in predictable ways. This goes way back to ancient atomic theories, like the one from Democritus about 2,500 years ago, who thought the world was built like a house from tiny, indivisible bricks called atoms. The very word "atom" comes from the Greek _atomas_, meaning "indivisible," combining 'a' ("non") and 'temnein' ("to cut"). So, for a long time, the idea was that you could keep cutting things smaller and smaller until you got to these fundamental, uncuttable bits. Even today, Watts argues, we often think of atoms and subatomic particles behaving in this billiard-like fashion, moving around and colliding. However, Watts is quick to point out that this "Newtonian billiard-based model" just doesn't cut it anymore, especially when we look at how things behave at the atomic level. He says things don't act like they're separate pieces colliding because, well, they aren't really separate to begin with. He uses a lovely analogy: you can see different waves in the ocean, but it's all still just one ocean waving. And just like you never find a wave crest without a trough, or solids without space, or positive poles without negative ones, things in the universe exist in these interconnected pairs. Individuals and their environments, for instance, are different aspects of a single energy, constantly going together. It's not quite right to say we're all one huge being either; existence involves both being and nonbeing, solid and space, crest and trough – it's a vibratory energy, on and off, where you can't have one without the other. This really makes you think about how we perceive boundaries, doesn't it? Are things really separate, or is that just how we choose to look at them? Our Western way of thinking about the world, particularly the idea of "laws of nature," is also deeply rooted in our Judeo-Christian theology, according to Watts. He explains that our cultural image of the universe is often monarchical, like a kingdom ruled by a celestial king. This idea of God as a commander who evoked the universe out of nothing by speaking it into existence ("Let there be light," for example) shaped our understanding. The quest for the laws of nature, in this view, becomes like seeking to understand the word of God. Watts even notes that some ways God is addressed in the Bible were borrowed from names for ancient autocratic monarchs. This perspective can lead us to think that there's someone or something powerful telling nature what to do, much like Hammurabi or Moses laying down laws by divine decree. Watts makes an interesting connection here: this idea of knowing the "word" or "laws" is akin to ancient forms of magic, where knowing someone's true name gave you power over them. Western science, in this light, becomes a kind of magic too – the knowledge of names and laws that allows us to change phenomena. But he notes that science has become more sophisticated, realizing the "word" (our understanding or description) comes _after_ the event. He contrasts this with the Hindu idea that speech, meaning vibration or sound, is the basis of creation. The whole mystery of things, in this view, is essentially vibrating energy, on and off – like life and death. The very roots of Sanskrit, they say, aren't just language building blocks but the roots of life itself. This makes you ponder the power of language and our descriptive systems. Do our words shape our reality more than we realize? This brings us to the idea that "thinking makes it so". Watts suggests that the way we think and talk to ourselves inside our heads determines our basic reactions and builds up our notions about the world. When we say "I'll have to die," it carries the emotional weight of death being something imposed against our will, a passive event we're compelled to face. But what if we _wanted_ to die?. Our language shapes our perception of inevitability. Watts argues that the "law" we see in the world is something _we_ introduce or invent with our symmetrical brains. When we invent the laws of nature, we're not discovering something purely "out there," but rather something about ourselves – our desire for regularity, prediction, and control. He uses the billiard analogy again, where one ball hitting another seems like a clear causal chain. But physicists and biologists are realizing this isn't a sufficient description. A more accurate view, he suggests, is "reticulation," like a net, where any event is related to a network of other events, and understanding it requires considering the present context, not just a historical causal chain. When you drop a ball, it's not just gravity acting on a separate object; it depends on air density, the ball's material, and the whole context that allows you to drop it in the first place. The "whole notion of a thing or an isolated event in nature... is a purely abstract idea that does not fit the facts of nature at all". In reality, everything depends on the context in which it's found and its relationship to everything else. There are no truly separate events in nature. This process of singling things out and naming them leads to the idea of an isolated 'that', but all these 'thats' are interconnected; they "go with" each other. Your inside goes with your outside, your breathing goes with the air, and your present experience is a "complicated going-withness" with the entire situation of the universe. This idea of "going with" is fundamental to Watts' perspective. He challenges the Western struggle to understand this, partly because we're often given conflicting messages: be one consistent person, but also constantly improve and change. The world is full of systems and programs selling the idea that you need to change or evolve in a particular direction, often for a fee. Watts explicitly states he's not offering such a system; his intention is to help set you free from all that. He hopes you'll read his work once and never need to come back. He offers a beautiful image for this interconnectedness: you are like a dewdrop on a multidimensional spider's web. The dewdrop reflects every other dewdrop and the whole web, depending on its unique position. The whole network depends on each drop, and each drop depends on the others. Similarly, you reflect everything in the universe; your nature as a "reflector" evokes the sun, moon, and stars. Space is only vast in relation to you; from other perspectives, it could be minuscule or incredibly vast. The universe is your outside, just as your organs are your inside. You go with the universe like a stalk goes with a root, or the North Pole with the South. Relationship underlies everything. Crucially, Watts emphasizes it's not that the universe _controls_ the individual or vice versa. It's not a question of control, but of dancing, of what happens rather than what makes it happen. Thinking in terms of one event _making_ another happen requires ignoring context and treating events as separate. If you see everything as part of one event, different aspects or phases of the same happening, then you understand it's simply happening. As Taoists say, everything is interrelated, forming patterns in the activity of the whole – the "order of the net". Every part of the net (or knot, or stitch) is involved in maintaining the whole; if one goes, the whole can unravel. This idea of mutual interpenetration is also found in Buddhism and symbolized by the interlocking rings of the Christian Trinity. This interdependence means every individual implies everything else in the universe. Like reconstructing a whole photo from a fragment of a negative, or a creature from a bone, you as an individual imply the world, and the world implies you. You are a natural formation, not determined by the universe, but moving in and with it harmoniously, like waves, leaves, or clouds. While distinctions like good and evil exist, they aren't fundamentally important in the bigger picture. You have to admit varying degrees of importance; just because a distinction isn't absolute doesn't mean it's unimportant (like your own physical form). You are a psychophysical organism, but also something the whole cosmos is doing. Watts even finds truth in astrology's attempt to map a person's individuality to the universe, seeing it as a design of that person's unique place. Your "soul" isn't something _inside_ your body like a "spook"; the whole cosmos is your soul, doing "you" at the point called here and now. Reciprocally, you are doing the universe; one depends on the other. Westerners struggle with this because of centuries of "brainwashing" by two contrasting theories: either we are wretched, disobedient subjects of a king, or we are just random collections of atoms in a mindless mechanism. These theories make it hard to see that we and the universe are mutually causative, or "mutually arising," as the Chinese say. This is a profound idea: what if your existence isn't just something _given_ to you, but something you are _doing_ in conjunction with the universe? Watts then explores the idea of intelligence in the universe. He notes the struggle between the old view of an intelligently organized universe reflecting an anthropomorphic God, and the modern idea that God is "dead". How do we think about an intelligent universe if there's no boss?. While defining intelligence is tricky, like defining love or time, we generally agree complexity is involved, but that leads to asking what "orderly" complexity means. Watts proposes starting with the hypothesis that _we_ are intelligent. If we are intelligent, then our environment must also be intelligent, because we are symptoms of it – one goes with the other. He finds it difficult to believe intelligent symptoms could arise in an unintelligent organization. He uses the hen and egg analogy: a hen is one way an egg becomes more hens and eggs; it all goes together. Westerners miss this interconnectedness because we use an analytical method that spotlights and names only certain "significant" features of the world, ignoring many others. Think about how many names the Inuit have for snow, versus how few most Westerners have. This highlights how our language and focus shape what we perceive and consider real. In contrast to the West, Taoists viewed the cosmos as a vast, boss-less, universal organism. There's no central principle sending out commands; the thing intelligently organizes itself. This is the principle of _ziran_, meaning "self so" or "what is so of itself". The universe is a self-so, self-regulating organism, and the individual is not just a part but an expression of the whole, on which the whole depends just as much as the expression depends on the whole. The Japanese term _jijimuge_ also speaks to this mutual interpenetration. Watts asks a thought-provoking question: "What would you change if you were God?". This flips the idea of an external ruler on its head. Watts touches upon technology, suggesting it could be a proper development of human capacities if used wisely, without irremediably disturbing nature's balances. No species should dominate others as humans are trying to do. He discusses the _I Ching_, based on balancing _yin_ and _yang_ – not separate forces, but aspects of a single energy or system. Even "energy" isn't perfect, as we only perceive motion in relation to stillness. This fundamental "energy-stillness" cannot be defined or thought about directly, yet it's basic to everything. It's like the constant, essential diaphragm in a loudspeaker that bears all the sounds but is ignored because it's always there. Similarly, we ignore the fundamental substratum or "ground of being". Logic finds it meaningless to talk about something common to everything, but other forms of knowledge exist. We can become aware of this substratum, not as an object, but something we can be sensuously aware of, regaining a sense of identity as the undefinable, single energy field. Realizing this can remove anxiety about trying to secure ourselves as separate organisms, fighting others, or conquering nature. This realization isn't a belief or idea; the fundamental energy eludes words and concepts. "You are it," Watts says, and trying to possess it implies you aren't. This is like the Zen saying, "putting legs on a snake". People try to grasp it or achieve it by doing nothing, but both are attempts to capture something you already are. We are identical with this fundamental energy; it is our real self. Watts uses the analogy of a wealthy gambler absorbed in a game for peanuts, forgetting their immense wealth and the larger context. We get absorbed in the details of birth and death, forgetting the context in which they occur, hypnotized into believing we are just this ego in this body. Becoming aware of being this single energy system, this process, can feel curious. Depending on upbringing, especially religious, people might interpret it as being a passive puppet (like a billiard ball) or an all-powerful God controlling everything. Both interpretations stem from the false assumption that the individual is separate from the world. The puppet view links to Newton and Descartes, while the God view relates to theological backgrounds. Science has moved beyond these limited views, but our common sense and psychology (like Freudian hydraulics) are still shaped by them. Watts illustrates how seemingly voluntary decisions can feel like they come "out of the blue" because our awareness of the underlying processes is screened out. Making a decision is not fundamentally different from growing your hair; we just think it is due to unawareness. If we realized everything happens "of itself" (_ziran_), some might feel like puppets, while others might feel like God, depending on their background. These points of view (nervous system creates external world vs. nervous system exists in external world) are both true, but Western logic struggles to integrate them. Our "ordinary awareness" overlooks the connections between things and events, making them seem separate, like looking through a venetian blind that cuts out intervals. Our senses and thinking systems are screening devices, letting us perceive only a narrow spectrum of reality. This is why meditation, as understood by Buddhists and Taoists, can be revealing. By stopping constant evaluation, you can become simply aware, realizing everything is equally important and feeling amazed by things you never noticed before. The sound of rain can be as profound as anything ever said. Saying there are no separate "things" or "events" is shocking to common sense. A shoe seems like a thing, but the idea of a separate shoe is an abstraction. An organism, like a flame, appears to be a thing but is a constant flow of energy. Our bodies too are flowing energy. Everything that appears as a distinct unit exists only in relation to other phenomena – mutual interpenetration. Anything designated as a part implies the whole, and the whole implies the part. Existence _is_ relationship. Opposites like yang/yin, solid/space, life/death are mutually enabling through their relationship. Our skill lies in breaking things down analytically, but we neglect the context, the "outside" of the "wiggle". Defining things requires their environment. Watts brings in the Buddhist term _klesha_ ("hang-up" or "defiling passion"). Our hang-up is on fixed ways of thinking, like dividing the world into separate parts, failing to see the "going-withness". We see our body as separate from the environment, even just an accumulation of cells, molecules, or wavicles. What ties all that together?. Watts suggests that what we "really are is the energy field itself," which keeps "doing us," keeps "peopling". It is "you who keeps peopling," and the whole game is to pretend we aren't responsible for this. Understanding the "pattern of a given situation" allows acting in accordance with it, without forcing things. Skillful action, like sawing wood or singing, feels like the activity is doing itself through you, expressing the total power of the "field of forces". This requires intelligence. Watts contrasts Taoism's interest in nature with Confucianism's focus on human relations and scholastic rigidity. Fixing on written words or abstract concepts as ultimate authority, whether in religion, science, or health, can lead to dismissing anything that doesn't fit the established framework. Theologians wouldn't look through Galileo's telescope because their book explained the universe. Scientists today can be similarly rigid, dismissing new ideas that challenge their conception. When a conceptual system doesn't align with changing reality, it becomes problematic. Taoists, with their organic, flowing view, saw the universe as a single, living organism, not separate parts. Head goes with feet, stomach with brain; everything arises mutually. Aspects are different, but not separate. The Confucian focus on rigid definitions and dictionaries is circular and limiting compared to the Taoist view. This distinction between abstract, codified thinking and an organic, flowing understanding is key. The mechanical analogy in the West (world as artifact of a cosmic engineer) led to mechanical technology like steam engines and hydraulics. This analogy served a purpose but is now outdated by quantum physics and biology. Watts argues for a more organic view, one aligned with Taoist wisdom, which he sees as a "new language" for us – the language of relativity, interdependence, and mutual interpenetration. Working with the "field of forces" involves knowing when to refrain from interfering and when to collaborate, always taking the context into account. Realizing _we are_ this field of forces can be a sensuous experience, difficult to define. You can't define the ground of reality because it's not an object you can classify. Not knowing this real self leads to anxiety, getting absorbed in arbitrary roles, forgetting the context where birth and death happen. In the field of forces, there are no winners or losers. Watts suggests that the complexity of the world isn't in its structure but in our attempts to understand it through words and numbers to predict and control. Words and numbers are limited; they break down phenomena into clumsy code. The conscious mind processes this slowly. Words are useful but must be subordinate to an "organic understanding" that doesn't depend on words. Words are like claws we use to tear life apart to understand it. Trying to describe the world only in words is like trying to empty a bathtub with a fork. Words work as shorthand, reminding those who already know the direct, non-verbal reality. Intelligence isn't just verbal or computational. The eyes, organs, and plants are obviously intelligent through their fascinating organization and beauty. We recognize intelligence when we see it, even if it defies verbal definition. Our nervous system and body organization express an intelligence that is unthinkably complex from a conscious analytical view, yet perfectly simple from its own view. You don't try to see or hear; your body just does it. Conscious efforts like getting food are only possible because of innumerable involuntary processes like your heart beating. Watts critiques the ambition to be less egotistic, calling it an insidious form of egotism. He suggests people foul each other up by not being truthful about their limits or desires. It's better to say "no" directly if you don't want to do something than to make false promises. He finds the ambition to be a saint particularly reprehensible. He sees value in gurus who create "obstacle races" because they eventually show the student that the authority was always their own. The guru's trials are designed to make you realize _you_ are the one doing it. The idea of a separate "I" living in the brain, the mythical soul, is a "fictitious" social convention like the equator. It can't _do_ anything; the thought that it can is what makes psychic processes spin. The only thing you _can_ do is "let it happen". Even trying to stop it is part of the happening. When you realize there's nothing to do but let it happen, you discover "you are what happens". You are not limited to your skull; you are the wind, the cars, the sun, the "rattle of human existence". There is no reality apart from you. When you grasp this, don't try to hold on or fix it into a concept like "satori". Let it go and see what happens next; the moment is always new. There's no script except the one you impose. What is coming is coming from _you_; the "spontaneous arising is you". Watts advocates for an "unscheduled life" or a "rough schedule" that allows for the unexpected, like a skeleton providing framework for flesh without being taken too seriously. Life isn't something happening _to_ you or being done _by_ you; the whole thing is a spontaneous occurrence. The Chinese word for spontaneous and nature is the same: _ziran_ ("what is so of itself"). You can't plan or fake spontaneity. Imitating spontaneity by acting against convention is still being conditioned by convention. True spontaneity happens of itself; you can't arrange it. Watts challenges the idea that taking things as they come means adopting a placid attitude. People have preconceived notions of holy people as emotionless and serene; he calls this "rubbish". Zen masters can get incredibly angry, but it passes instantly, like with children. This isn't about control but about letting the emotion be what it is without getting hung up. The enlightened state has no stereotype and defies description. Our social interactions are often controlled and linear. Changing subjects abruptly can cause discomfort. Free association, like saying whatever comes to mind, is difficult because people feel they can't trust themselves. Talking about dreams is a way to free-associate safely because it's seen as past and not directly "you". Words are powerful; breaking from structured language feels dangerous. But if everyone played along and trusted themselves, realizing words are just words, they might see that they can behave non-egocentrically without harming others. The Zen koan is a game where overthinking makes you "lose". Watts gives an example of a master accepting an answer one day but calling it wrong the next, illustrating that truth isn't static or rigidly definable. Trusting your "inherent and original intelligence" is crucial. This is what Zen teacher Bankei called the "unborn mind" – the mind that isn't the individualized ego. It's the mind that knows a crow's call instantly or acts spontaneously with intelligence in a crisis. This spontaneous action isn't something you _ought_ to do; you do it all the time without thinking. It only becomes a problem when you become conscious of it and start second-guessing. Trying to hurry the process of growth or realization stops it. The miracle is always happening, but you can't see it when you're grasping or impatient. Watts suggests accepting yourself, including your "sloppiness" and "weakness," because that's your strength, not your ego. Gorgeous, astounding things and truest pleasures are found in everyday affairs. Any moment or detail can be a "taking-off point". The Japanese principle of _jijimuge_ means "between thing/event and thing/event, no barrier". Every event implies all others. Picking up one thing/event brings the whole universe with it. It's all a single, unified process, not truly divisible into discrete categories like voluntary/involuntary, I/you, or free/determined. Those categories are just ideas, like a "net designed for catching water". The Chinese master Yoka Daishi captures this paradox: you can't grasp it, you can't get rid of it, and in not getting it, you get it. When you're silent, it speaks; when you speak, it's silent. The great gate is wide open, unimpeded. Watts doesn't argue about religion because everyone's religion is their life, and in the world of illusion, the "Godhead plays all the parts" – villains, heroes, fools, saints. He's not trying to convert anyone; that's like telling pigs they should be cows. He tries to see the divine in everyone's "disguise". Like the Indian mystic Kabir seeing the beloved everywhere, it feels presumptuous to preach. Even frightening figures like the Hindu goddess Kali (representing the devouring feminine, the dark side of yin) are aspects of the divine; the challenge is to see her frightening side _itself_ as divine, without asking her to change. The "mystery of life is not a problem to be solved but a reality to be experienced". Trying to explain mysteries destroys them, destroying life. Watts values meditation, church, and rituals, despite their "gimmicks," for their aesthetic and humanizing qualities. They offer something glowing and mysterious. Meditation might involve focusing on an image or sound, or just sitting without doing anything (or trying _not_ to do anything), becoming aware without hurry. Resistance to discomfort makes it worse; taking it easy can make it disappear, leading to an extraordinary feeling of just letting life happen without trying to improve it. Using a prayer wheel is an analogy for this non-striving effort. There's a trick to twirling it rhythmically without rushing, without trying to _get_ anything. You have to be a bit "at your wits' end," abandoning the goal-oriented mindset. When you don't have a purpose to work out, you slow down, wander, and notice things – finding the "winged path" instead of the straight one. Life is like going round and round, like planets or breath. This wheel of becoming (_samsara_) can seem like a "sorry-go-round". You feel like you're getting somewhere, but you're not; it's a "rat race". However, some can take a different attitude, gambling and spinning the wheel "just for fun," not hung up on winning. The mandala is a symbol of the rat race, but _transformed_. Wherever you are on the wheel is "it". If you're at the lowest point, you can see every point is the same. The wheel isn't just rotary movement but a flow from center to circumference and back, like a flower. Viewed this way, it becomes a balanced, joyous mandala. This all leads to a really deep understanding of interconnectedness, flow, and trusting the inherent intelligence of the universe (which is also _you_). It's a powerful counterpoint to our common Western feelings of separation, struggle, and the need for control. Here are a few ideas and questions you might explore further after thinking about Watts' points: - How does our language shape our perception of reality? Could learning a new language fundamentally change how you see the world? - Can you identify ways you feel like a "puppet" or, conversely, feel like you're "making everything happen"? How might seeing yourself as "going with" the universe change these feelings? - Where in your life do you see the principle of _ziran_ ("self so") at work, where things organize themselves without a boss? - Think about something complex you do skillfully, like singing or driving. Can you feel the "total power of the field of forces" expressing itself through you in that action? - How do you relate to the idea that the mystery of life isn't a problem to be solved but a reality to be experienced? Are there mysteries in your life you try too hard to "solve"?