The Dao does not
always live in the peaceful forest, the smooth flowing stream making its way
through the mountains, or the sandy beach. Sometimes it lives in the bottom of
a shot glass in a rough bar at three a.m., or in the back of a grimy, noisy
factory. It can be gritty and brutally honest. Instead of the pleasant song of
a bird, we get a blast from an air horn or we stumble out into the street with
the sun coming up. All this to wake us up to the truth and shatter any
misguided illusions we may have.
