I wanted to play it with an economy of words and create this whole feeling through attitude and movement.
The Tao that can be told is not the eternal Tao.
The Name that can be Named
is not the eternal Name.
The nameless is the beginning of Heaven and Earth.
The named is the mother of the ten thousand things.
A Man With No Name, appearing out of the ethereal desert like a phantom, is hard to define. His existence and agenda are difficult to pin down.
Ironically, the more you try to figure him out, the more troublesome your time with him becomes. Best to just leave him undefined and let him breeze through town.
Eastwood’s intention to develop this character with an emphasis on attitude rather than words was dead on. (Pun alert).
The doubtless feeling you have that he will be the last man standing, when the poncho gets flipped over his shoulder, proves he made it work. The audience requires few words, or names, or definitions to follow along.
Lao Tzu is saying here that once you give something a name, it begins to attach itself to other things. It becomes definable.
Without names, things just are what they are, true to their own nature. They follow their own Way, their own path. And that unnamable, unseen path is a force known to him as the Tao.
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