"Oh, here it is. What's this? 'Aardvarks and Their Aberrations.'"
"Beg pardon?" said Pooh.
"'Aardvarks and Their Aberrations'—what Owl was writing about"
"Oh, were they?" said Pooh.
"Say, this pencil's all chewed up."
One more funny thing about Knowledge, that of the scholar, the scientist, or anyone else: it always wants to blame the mind of the Uncarved Block—what it calls Ignorance—for problems that it causes itself, either directly or indirectly, through its own limitations, nearsightedness, or neglect. For example, if you build your house where the wind can blow it over, then let it go to pieces while you worry about how to spell Marmalade, what is likely to happen? Of course. Anyone knows that. Yet when Owl's house falls down, what does he have to say about it?
"Pooh," said Owl severely, "did you do that?"
"No," said Pooh humbly. "I don't think so."
"Then who did?"
"I think it was the wind," said Piglet. "I think your house has blown down,"
"Oh, is that it? I thought it was Pooh."
"No," said Pooh.
For the chapter's concluding word about Knowledge for the sake of Knowledge, let's recall an incident from The House at Pooh Corner. Eeyore was busy intimidating Piglet with something he'd made from three sticks . . .
"Do you know what A means, little Piglet?"
"No, Eeyore, I don't."
"It means Learning, it means Education, it means all the things that you and Pooh haven't got. That's what A means."
"Oh," said Piglet again. "I mean, does it?" he explained quickly.
"I'm telling you. People come and go in this Forest, and they say, It's only Eeyore, so it doesn't count.' They walk to and fro saying 'Ha hal' But do they know anything about A? They don't. It's just three sticks to them. But to the Educated—mark this, little Piglet—to the Educated, not meaning Poohs and Piglets, it's a great and glorious A. Not," he added, "just something that anybody can come and breathe on."
Then Rabbit came along . . .
"There's just one thing I wanted to ask you, Eeyore. What happens to Christopher Robin in the mornings nowadays?"
"What's this that I'm looking at?" said Eeyore, still looking at it.
"Three sticks," said Rabbit promptly.
"You see?" said Eeyore to Piglet. He turned to Rabbit. "I will now answer your question," he said solemnly.
"Thank you," said Rabbit.
"What does Christopher Robin do in the mornings? He learns. He becomes Educated. He instigorates—I think that is the word he mentioned, but I may be referring to something else—he instigorates Knowledge. In my small way I also, if I have the word right, am—am doing what he does. That, for instance, is——"
"An A," said Rabbit, "but not a very good one. Well, I must get back and tell the others."
Eeyore looked at his sticks and then he looked at Piglet....
"He knew? You mean this A thing is a thing Rabbit knew?"
"Yes, Eeyore. He's clever, Rabbit is."
"Clever!" said Eeyore scornfully, putting a foot heavily on his three sticks, "Education!" said Eeyore bitterly, jumping on his six sticks, "What is Learning?" asked Eeyore as he kicked his twelve sticks into the air. "A thing Rabbit knows! Ha!"
So there.
"I know something that Rabbit doesn't know,"
said Piglet.
"Oh? What's that?" I asked.
"Well, I can't remember what it's called,"
"Oh, yes. That's what's coming up next," I said.
"Oh, what is it called?" said Piglet, tapping his foot.
"Well, let's see . . "
COTTLESTON PIE
Remember when Kanga and Roo came to the Forest? Immediately, Rabbit decided that he didn't like them, because they were Different. Then he began thinking of a way to make them leave. Fortunately for everyone, the plan failed, as Clever Plans do, sooner or later.
Cleverness, after all, has its limitations. Its mechanical judgments and clever remarks tend to prove inaccurate with passing time, because it doesn't look very deeply into things to begin with. As in Rabbit's case, it has to change its opinions later on because of what it didn't see when it was forming them. The thing that makes someone truly different—unique, in fact—is something that Cleverness cannot really understand.
We will refer to that special Something here as Inner Nature. Since it's pretty much beyond the power of the intellect to measure or understand, we will have Pooh explain it to us, which he will do by way of the Cottleston Pie Principle.
"Er . . . (cough)...Ahum."
Excuse me a moment.
"Yes, Pooh?"
"Me explain it?" said Pooh behind his paw.
"Well, yes—I thought that might be nice."
"Why don't you explain it?" asked Pooh.
"Well, I thought it would be better if you did, somehow."
"I don't think that's such a good idea," said Pooh.
"Why not?"
"Because when I explain things, they get in the wrong places," he said. "That's why."
"All right, I'll explain it. But you can help out every now and then. How does that sound?"
"Much more like it," said Pooh.
Let's see. The Cottleston Pie Principle is based upon the song Cottleston Pie, which Pooh sang in Winnie-the-Pooh. Hmm . . .
"Say, Pooh. Maybe you'd better sing it again, in case anyone's forgotten."
"Certainly," said Pooh. "Now, let me see . . .(ahem)"
Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie,
A fly can't bird, but a bird can fly.
Ask me a riddle and I reply:
"Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie."
Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie,
A fish can't whistle and neither can I.
Ask me a riddle and I reply:
"Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie."
Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie,Why does a chicken, I don't know why.
Ask me a riddle and I reply:
"Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie."
Now, let's start with——Ow! Oh, yes. "That was very nice, Pooh."
"Don't mention it."
Let's start with the first part: "A fly can't bird, but a bird can fly." Very simple. It's obvious, isn't it? And yet, you'd be surprised how many people violate this simple principle every day of their lives and try to fit square pegs into round holes, ignoring the clear reality that Things Are As They Are. We will let a selection from the writings of Chuang-tse illustrate:
Hui-tse said to Chuang-tse, "I have a large tree which no carpenter can cut into lumber. Its branches and trunk are crooked and tough, covered with bumps and depressions. No builder would turn his head to look at it. Your teachings are the same—useless, without value. Therefore, no one pays attention to them."
"As you know," Chuang-tse replied, "a cat is very skilled at capturing its prey. Crouching low, it can leap in any direction, pursuing whatever it is after. But when its attention is focused on such things, it can be easily caught with a net. On the other hand, a huge yak is not easily caught or overcome. It stands like a stone, or a cloud in the sky. But for all its strength, it cannot catch a mouse.
"You complain that your tree is not valuable as lumber. But you could make use of the shade it provides, rest under its sheltering branches, and stroll beneath it, admiring its character and appearance. Since it would not be endangered by an axe, what could threaten its existence? It is useless to you only because you want to make it into something else and do not use it in its proper way."
In other words, everything has its own place and function. That applies to people, although many don't seem to realize it, stuck as they are in the wrong job, the wrong marriage, or the wrong house. When you know and respect your own Inner Nature, you know where you belong. You also know where you don't belong. One man's food is often another man's poison, and what is glamorous and exciting to some can be a dangerous trap to others. An incident in the
life of Chuang-tse can serve as an example:
While sitting on the banks of the Pu River, Chuang-tse was approached by two representatives of the Prince of Ch'u, who offered him a position at court. Chuang-tse watched the water flowing by as if he had not heard. Finally, he remarked, "I am told that the Prince has a sacred tortoise, over two thousand years old, which is kept in a box, wrapped in silk and brocade." "That is true," the officials replied. "If the tortoise had been given a choice," Chuang-tse continued, "which do you think he would have liked better—to have been alive in the mud, or dead within the palace?" "To have been alive in the mud, of course," the men answered. "I too prefer the mud," said Chuang-tse. "Good-bye."
"I like mud, too," said Pooh.
"Yes . . . well, anyway——"
"On a hot summer day? Nothing like it," he said.
"But the point is——"
"It keeps you cool," he said.
"That's not important here, Pooh," I said.
"It's not?" he asked in a shocked sort of way.
"I mean, there are other things to be——"
"How do you know?" said Pooh. "Have you ever tried it?"
"No, but—— "
"Just the thing for a hot summer day," he continued, leaning back and closing his eyes, "Down by the river, covered with mud . . . "
"Look, Pooh——"
"Mud's nice," said Piglet, walking over to the writing table and looking up at us. "It adds color to your skin."
"Can't say I ever cared for it," said Owl, flying over and perching on the lamp, "It sticks in one's feathers. Rather disagreeable."
"You see?" I said. "Everyone's different. That's what we were discussing."
"I thought we were talking about mud," said Piglet.
"So did I," said Pooh.
"Well, I must get back to my encyclopedia," said Owl.
And now, if we can, let's go on to the second part: "A fish can't whistle and neither can I." Coming from a wise mind, such a statement would mean, "I have certain limitations, and I know what they are." Such a mind would act accordingly. There's nothing wrong with not being able to whistle, especially if you're a fish. But there can be lots of things wrong with blindly trying to do what you aren't designed for. Fish don't live in trees, and birds don't spend too much time underwater if they can help it. Unfortunately, some people—who always seem to think they're smarter than fish and birds, somehow—aren't so wise, and end up causing big trouble for themselves and others.
That doesn't mean that we need to stop changing and improving. It just means that we need to recognize What's There. If you face the fact that you have weak muscles, say, then you can do the right things and eventually become strong. But if you ignore What's There and try to lift someone's car out of a ditch, what sort of condition will you be in after a while? And even if you have more muscle than anyone alive, you still can't push over a freight train. The wise know their limitations; the foolish do not.
To demonstrate what we mean, we can think of no one better than Tigger, who doesn't know his limitations.
Oh, excuse me. He says he does now.
Well, let's recall how he was forced to recognize one of them, anyway. Roo and Tigger were walking through the Forest one moming, and Tigger was talking about all the things that Tiggers can do . . .
"Can they fly?" asked Roo.
"Yes," said Tigger, "they're very good flyers, Tiggers are, Stornry good flyers."
"Oo!" said Roo. "Can they fly as well as Owl?"
"Yes," said Tigger. "Only they don't want to."
Well, after this sort of talk had gone on for a while, they arrived at the Six Pine Trees:
"I can swim," said Roo. "I fell into the river, and I swimmed. Can Tiggers swim?"
"Of course they can. Tiggers can do everything."
"Can they climb trees better than Pooh?" asked Roo, stopping under the tallest Pine Tree, and looking up at it
"Climbing trees is what they do best," said Tigger. "Much better than Poohs."
And the next thing they knew, they were stuck in the tallest pine tree. Well, well. Not so good.
But then Pooh and Piglet came along, and of course Pooh realized right away just what was happening. Well, not right away . . .
"It's a Jagular," he said.
"What do Jagulars do?" asked Piglet, hoping that they wouldn't.
"They hide in the branches of trees, and drop on you as you go underneath," said Pooh. "Chris topher Robin told me."
"Perhaps we better hadn't go underneath, Pooh. In case he dropped and hurt himself."
"They don't hurt themselves," said Pooh. "They're such very good droppers."
Piglet still felt that to be underneath a Very Good Dropper would be a Mistake, and he was just going to hurry back for something which he had forgotten when the Jagular called out to them.
"Help! Help!" it called.
"That's what Jagulars always do," said Pooh, much interested. "They call 'Help! Help!' and then when you look up, they drop on you."
But eventually, Christopher Robin and Eeyore came along, and a Rescue Net was formed. Then Roo jumped and was Saved, and Tigger jumped (sort of ) . . .
. . . and was Saved (sort of):
There was a crash, and a tearing noise, and a confused heap of everybody on the ground.
Christopher Robin and Pooh and Piglet picked themselves up first, and then they picked Tigger up, and underneath everybody else was Eeyore.
"Quite a bit of trouble you put everyone through, wasn't it, Tigger?"
"I learned from the experience, though," he said, a bit evasively.
"Oh, did you?"
"Of course. You won't find me doing anything like that again," he said in a confident sort of way.
"That's good," I said. "On your way to somewhere, are you?"
"Yes," he said. "Roo and I are going swimming."
"Oh. Well, don't forget to take a rope."
"A rope? Why a rope?" said Tigger.
"Oh, just in case you see somebody fall in," I said.
"Now why didn't I think of that?" said Tigger.
A saying from the area of Chinese medicine would be appropriate to mention here: "One disease, long life; no disease, short life." In other words, those who know what's wrong with them and take care of themselves accordingly will tend to live a lot longer than those who consider them selves perfectly healthy and neglect their weaknesses. So, in that sense at least, a Weakness of some sort can do you a big favor, if you acknowledge that it's there. The same goes for one's limitations, whether Tiggers know it or not—and Tiggers usually don't. That's the trouble with Tiggers, you know: they can do everything. Very unhealthy.
Once you face and understand your limitations, you can work with them, instead of having them work against you and get in your way, which is what they do when you ignore them, whether you realize it or not. And then you will find that, in many cases, your limitations can be your strengths.
For example, when Owl's house fell down, who was able to escape, even though there was a heavy branch across the door and the only way out was through the letter-slot?
Piglet, the Very Small Animal.
Now, the last part of the principle: "Why does a chicken, I don't know why." Why does a chicken do what it does? You don't know? Neither do we; Neither does anyone else. Science likes to strut around and Act Smart by putting its labels on everything, but if you look at them closely, you'll see that they don't really say much. "Genes"? "DNA"? Just scratching the surface. "Instinct"? You know what that means:
CURIOUS: "Why do birds fly South for the winter?"
SCIENCE: "Instinct."
It means, "We don't know."
The important thing is, we don't really need to know. We don't need to imitate Nearsighted Science, which peers at the world through an electron microscope, looking for answers it will never find and coming up with more questions instead. We don't need to play Abstract Philosopher, asking unnecessary questions and coming up with meaningless answers. Wha
t we need to do is recognize Inner Nature and work with Things As They Are. When we don't, we get into trouble.
Pooh and Piglet found this out when they tried to catch a Heffalump. Not really knowing what Heffalumps like to eat, Piglet assumed that they would be attracted by acoms, and Pooh thought—but first, you remember what a Heffalump is, don't you?
The Tao of Pooh Page 3
