Tao Te Ching XXXI

The gentleman gives precedence to the left when at home but to the right when he goes to war.  Arms are instruments of ill omen not the instruments of the gentleman.  When one is compelled to use them, it is best to do so without relish.  There is no glory in victory and to glorify it despite this is to exult in the killing of people.  One who exults in the killing of people will never have his way in the empire.  It is because arms are instruments of ill omen and there are things that detest them that one who has the way does not abide by their use.  On occasions of rejoicing, precedence is given to the left; on occasions of mourning, precedence is given to the right.  A lieutenant’s place is on the left; the general’s place is on the right.  This means that it is mourning rites that are observed.  When great numbers of people are killed, one should weep over them with sorrow.  When victorious in war, one should observe the rites of mourning.

Some religions tend toward sadism—primitive expressions of war which exult in the real or metaphorical killing of men.  Others seem to be masochistic responses to this impulse, rejecting aggression toward others in favor of aggression toward oneself:  the elimination of desire, the turning of desire against oneself.

The follower of the Tao does neither.  She avoids aggression but acknowledges that it is sometimes necessary.  The necessary, however, is neither joyous nor desirable; rather, it is coupled with the dark spaces in the human soul and only brought to light under severe duress.  The sage is acquainted with these spaces and neither fears them nor acts from them; but she does occasionally weep because of what they entail.

So it is that the sage is no bodhisattva, no saint, sadguru, sadhu, tzadikim.  She is sullied; no sane person would describe her as virtuous; she knows the body and neither seeks nor avoids it; she is shadowy, elusive, dark.  This is why she does not need to act darkly, for she stays close to the heart of darkness and only manifests it when there is no other choice.

Typically, the good ally themselves with preserving and extending life; the bad ally themselves with ending and diminishing it.  The sage, however, sees this separation as unnatural; she neither is inclined to preserve nor terminate.  This is why she is murky, why she slips through the thick vast definitional nets and swims in ancient waters.