Nonbeing
is characterized as the negation of Being either in a simple, logical sense, or as the Nihil, the Void, the experience of which, as in Heidegger's philosophy, evokes a sense of existential angst or dread.
Teaching-the-Daode-Jing
This is my own translation of the silk texts.
For the Chinese, see Lao-tzu Ma- wang-tui, 70.
The line I translate ''It brings them to life,'' however, is missing from both texts and is supplied from other versions.
See Chan, The Way, 190, for an alternative translation of this line.
16. Wuwei, acting by not acting, is one of the traits of the Dao and the Sage. The opening line of chapter 37 in the Laozi is ''Dao invariably takes no action, and yet there is nothing left undone. '' Chan, The Way, 166.
17. Chan, The Way, 192.
18. Ibid. , 194.
19. Ibid. , 128.
20. See especially chapter 6 and the phrase: ''The Great Clod burdens me with
form, labors me with life, eases me in old age, and rests me in death. '' Burton Watson, Chuang Tzu: Basic Writings (New York: Columbia University Press, 1964), 76. The Dao as the ''great Clod'' is the subject of H. G. Creel's essay ''The Great Clod,'' in Herrlee G. Creel, What is Taoism? And other Studies in Chinese Cultural History (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1970), 25-36.
21. From John G. Neihardt, Black Elk Speaks: Being the Life Story of a Holy Man of the Oglala Sioux (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1961), 3.
22. We quite often find the combination of Sky-father and Earth-mother as world parents. However, there are instances of the Earth Mother herself giving birth out of
the dao and the field 45
46 approaching the daode jing
her own fecundity. On this see Mircea Eliade, The Sacred and the Profane (New York: Harper & Row, 1967), 144-145.
23. The dates here given are traditional. Our evidence from the Shang oracle bones actually accounts only for the period 1324-1225 b. c. , the reign of Wu Ding. H. G. Creel The Birth of China (New York: Frederick Ungar, 1937), 180-181. The she and fang sacrifices were offered to the god(s) of the land and the spirits of the four quarters, respectively, in the spring and summer for aid in the growing season. Lester J. Bilsky, ''The State Religion of Ancient China'' (PhD diss. , University of Washington, 1971), 59-62.
24. Shangdi is the name given to the supreme deity in the oracle texts of the Shang; Heaven, or Tian, is more commonly used by the Zhou, although they at times also use the name Shangdi. Both names refer to a deity of the ''sky-god'' type, an all- powerful, supreme deity who is constantly watching what goes on below. Both can and do intervene in human events; with Heaven this is done for moral purposes: he gives a mandate to a ruler, a contract to rule, and intervenes to remove this if the conditions are not upheld. Shangdi and Tian could be two distinct deities, the former of the Shang and the latter of the Zhou. Or it could be that Tian is another name for Shangdi, or a Shangdi who has been transformed. The best reading on this problem is found in D. Howard Smith, Chinese Religions from 1000 b. c. to the Present Day (London: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1968), 12-21, and H. G. Creel, The Origins of Statecraft in China, vol. 1: The Western Chou Empire (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1970), 81-100, 493-506.
25. Both Laozi and Zhuangzi are reported to have come from the state of Chu, an area whose customs and beliefs are well known to have differed markedly from those of the Zhou states to the north.
26. I have in mind the controversial lines in chapters 5 and 3. Respectively they read: ''The sage is not humane. He regards all people as straw dogs''; ''Therefore in the government of the sage, He keeps their hearts vacuous, Fills their bellies, Weakens their ambitions, And strengthens their bones. '' Chan, The Way, 107, 103.
27. Ibid. , 131, 132, 167. 28. Ibid. , 128.
29. Ibid. , 157.
30. Ibid. , 179.
31. Ibid. , 192.
32. Ibid. , 205.
33. That the Chinese here is jiu (''long time'') in the first case and chang jiu (much
the same meaning) in the second suggests to me life's coming to an end at some point.
34. Chan, The Way, 188. It is interesting to note that in the Mawangdui copies of the Laozi, the opening line of this chapter has ''one who is good at holding on to life (zhisheng),'' instead of ''one who is a good preserver of his life (shesheng). '' (zhish- eng). See Laozi: Mawangdui, 69.
35. In chapter 17 of the Zhuangzi we have a passage where this kind of inter- pretation of how the Daoist avoids harm seems to be implied. Either that, or the
Daoist simply does not see harm as harm and accepts whatever comes his way. The passage reads: ''And he who knows how to deal with circumstances will not allow things to do him harm. When a man has perfect virtue, fire cannot burn him, water cannot drown him, cold and heat cannot afflict him, birds and beasts cannot injure him. I do not say that he makes light of these things. I mean that he distinguishes between safety and danger, contents himself with fortune and misfortune, and is constant in his comings and goings. '' Watson, Chuang Tzu, 104.
36. In chapter 4 of the Zhuangzi we read of the tiger trainer who succeeds by not going against the fierce dispositions of the tigers: he does not give them any- thing alive that they would have to kill, or anything whole that they would have to tear up. Ibid. , 59.
37. Chan, The Way, 159. The silk texts would seem to support this since they substitute ''not forgotten'' (bu wang) for ''not perish'' (bu wang). But since the character for ''forgotten'' is made by adding the ''heart'' element to the character for ''perish,'' and since the adding of an element to the correct character is common in the silk texts, ''perish'' might still be the intended word. See Laozi: Mawangdui, 93.
38. I should note that in addition to the evidence already cited, there is one other thing that could support this. Ellen Ch'en, in her essay ''Is There a Doctrine of Physical Immortality in the Tao-te-ching? ,'' History of Religions 12, no. 3 (1973): 231- 247, notes the phrase mo shen bu dai (in chapters 16 and 52), which she translates as ''to lose the body without coming to an end. '' Unfortunately this phrase is open to interpretation. Chan translates it as ''free from danger throughout his lifetime'' in both places. Arthur Waley has ''though his body ceases is not destroyed'' in chapter 16, which supports Professor Ch'en, but ''and to the end of his days suffers no harm'' in chapter 52. See Arthur Waley, trans. , The Way and its Power: A Study of the Tao Te Ching and Its Place in Chinese Thought (New York: Grove, 1958), 162, 206.
39. In addition to the Zhuangzi passages cited below, the Liezi follows this line and specifies what is involved. Man is a combination of dense qi (breath, energy) from the earth (his body), and subtle, active qi from heaven (his breath and vital energies). At death these qi return to their sources and are then recycled. See A. C. Graham, trans. , The Book of Lieh-tzu (London: Lewis Reprints, 1973), 14-15, 18-20, 20-23, especially the anecdotes.
40. Watson, Chuang Tzu, 81. I would not take ''Creator'' here in a literal sense. I think it is used by Zhuangzi as another way to talk about the creative work of the Dao; natural transformation is all that is involved.
41. WatsonnotesthatMoyewasafamousswordofKingHelu(reigned514-496 b. c. ) of Wu.
42. William Theodore deBary, The Buddhist Tradition in India, China and Japan (New York: Random House, 1972), 134-135. From a text called Mouzi li huo lun (Mouzi Settling Doubts), which is traditionally believed to date from the end of the second century a. d.
the dao and the field 47
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? The Daode Jing and Comparative Philosophy
David L. Hall
The Confucian asks, ''Master Lao, you say that 'the way that can be spoken of is the constant way. ' Why, then, do you offer so many words which speak of the Way? ''
To which Laozi replies, ''I make for you a golden embroidery of drakes and pass it along for your enjoyment. I cannot, however, show you the golden needle by which it was made. ''
Before beginning any classroom discussion of the Daode jing I always recount this apocryphal exchange as a means of making a point about the language of that work and, indeed, of language generally. That cautionary tale is useful in warning us not to mis- take the embroidery, however fine, for the ''golden needle'' that permits its creation. And, of course, the Daoist would believe that the sentiment of this story suggests the mood with which we might well approach language itself.
Words, the Daoist might say, serve as both signposts and barriers. It is as if the very sign that tells us where to go stands in the way of our getting there. Were I, for example, to encounter a sign in the form of a roadblock across the only highway leading into town that read ''El Paso 99 Miles,'' I would know that I was heading in the right direction but would be prevented from going home.
Knowing this, we may be reconciled to the fact that traveling along the way that can be spoken of is the only means whereby we may celebrate the Nameless Dao. Its ability to provide its
50 approaching the daode jing
readers important experiences of the evocation of meaning beyond any words is what makes the Daode jing one of the most provocative of all the texts of world literature.
My first encounter with this book was as oblique as is the language of the work itself. As a high school student, I was on a long bus trip across the western states. While at a rest stop in Pecos, Texas, I was browsing through books and magazines displayed at the bus depot. Amid the usual examples of romance and detective fiction were two books whose titles immediately caught my eye: The first was A. N. Whitehead's Adventures of Ideas; the second was a work entitled The Way of Life. Its subtitle was The Tao Te Ching. I recall being fas- cinated by both works, each of which promised to transform my rather dull bus trip into a far more exciting journey. I had only enough money for one book, however, and so had to make a decision. After several minutes, I finally selected Adventures of Ideas.
I have come to believe that my encounter with these two books was more significant than I initially thought. For, some years later, as a graduate student, I selected the philosophy of Whitehead as the subject of my dissertation re- search. And it was not long after I began teaching that I found myself extending my interest in process philosophy by comparing Whiteheadian thinking with the Daoist sensibility through a consultation of the Daode jing.
Comparative Philosophy as a Collaborative Enterprise
Before discussing the manner in which I use the Daode jing in the classroom, it might be useful to address another issue concerning the pedagogy of that text. For those such as I who do not read classical Chinese, the question arises as to how one might approach the work. I assume that relatively few of those who employ this text in undergraduate teaching are expert in Chinese language and culture. In my experience, this is particularly true of those who use the work as a philosophical text. I would like to ask, therefore, by way of introducing the remainder of my remarks: ''What is the role of the Western philosopher in furthering the appropriate use of classical Chinese texts in the classroom? ''
The first thing to be said is that, quite obviously, if a translation of the Daode jing is to be relevant to the Western context, it is not enough that the translator be expert in only Chinese thought and culture. A reasonably subtle understanding of the Western philosophical tradition is presumed in every adequate translation of that work into Anglo-European languages. In the ab- sence of this combination of sinological and Western philosophical skills in a
the daode jing and comparative philosophy 51
single individual, the translation of the Daode jing into an English-speaking context suggests the need for collaboration between Chinese and Western specialists. Often this collaboration is minimally accomplished when the in- dividual ignorant of the Chinese language consults a number of different translations of a given text and seeks some broad understanding of the history and culture of the period that contextualizes the work he or she is seeking to understand. Without some such concern, the Western interpreter of texts such as the Daode jing is likely to present either a superficial or a distorted inter- pretation. By the same token, when the sinologist seeks to translate a Chinese classic into English, he or she has the responsibility of gaining some under- standing of the general cultural context into which he or she is seeking to translate the given work. Nothing is more disappointing than to pick up a copy of the Daode jing, the Zhuangzi, or the Analects translated by someone who, however subtle his or her sinological skills, is relatively innocent of the Western intellectual tradition. The result is always a travestied, trivialized, and un- teachable text.
My own understanding of Chinese texts has benefited significantly from a collaboration begun some fifteen years ago with the sinologist Roger Ames of the University of Hawai'i. Ames's expertise in classical Chinese language and Chinese philosophical texts, combined with my knowledge of Western phi- losophy and the methodology of comparative cultures, has provided each of us with a more solid foundation from which to communicate the language of Chinese philosophy to undergraduate and graduate students.
Moreover, it is important to note that, though I am not trained in Chinese language, the speculative interpretation of Daoism contained in some of my earliest published writings has in fact influenced the translation of key terms in the more specialized treatments in subsequent works by Ames and me. Moreover, that interpretation is elaborated in our discussions of Daoism in our recent work, Thinking from the Han, as well as in articles on the subject of Daoism by the two of us in the Routledge Encyclopedia of Philosophy.
My intent here is really not to boast about my understanding of Daoism. I merely wish to correct what I consider to be a serious misunderstanding that affects the appropriate exercise of comparative Chinese/Western thought. In the case of texts such as the Daode jing, Western-trained philosophers have, on the whole, a great deal more to contribute to the translation of Chinese intel- lectual culture into Western cultural contexts than they might otherwise be- lieve. Making sense of texts such as the Daode jing within an Anglo-European philosophical milieu is, first and foremost, a collaborative effort. Until this fact is endorsed by both (sometimes) overly confident sinologists and (often) all too
52 approaching the daode jing
timid Western specialists, the translation of Chinese philosophical texts into Anglo-European contexts will never reach the most desirable level.
The Daode Jing and Comparative Philosophy
As one of my principal philosophical interests is comparative thought, I most often have recourse to the Daode jing in classes devoted to Chinese and Western comparisons. The strategy of such a course is to suggest some fundamental assumptions of Western thought that might not be common to mainstream Chinese cultural sensibilities. The method involves attempting to bracket these assumptions in order better to understand the presupposi- tions of Chinese intellectual culture. There are, of course, many possible topics for such ''uncommon assumptions. '' Chinese and Western classical cultures originate from alternative assumptions that shape dramatically con- trasting senses of ontological and cosmological issues, such as the nature of ''being'' and ''existence,'' the sense of ''cosmos'' or ''world,'' the understand- ing of ''natural laws'' and ''casual relations. '' In addition, classical Chinese approaches to such Western philosophical topics as ''self,'' ''truth,'' ''tran- scendence,'' ''reason,'' ''logic,'' and ''rhetoric'' are quite distinct from the dominant family of Western understandings of these topics.
I have found that the Daode jing is helpful in making all of these im- portant cultural comparisons. In what follows I wish merely to highlight a few of these issues as a means of demonstrating the value of the Daode jing as a text in comparative philosophy.
The first topic permits a contrast of Chinese and Western treatments of ''Being'' and the sources of world-order. The second involves the general treatment of the person construed in terms of the tripartite structure of the psyche originating in Plato, a model of ''personality'' that has been central to our tradition since that time. These two issues allow for a general under- standing of some striking differences among concepts of ''self and world'' found in Chinese and Western cultures.
This approach is relevant beyond the efforts merely to train philosophers. Issues fundamental to the way we commonsensically think about the world are sedimented in the patterns of thought and expression of every reasonably ed- ucated person. Unless we seek to uncover at least some of our ''uncommon assumptions,'' we shall err in our interpretation of alternative cultural sensi- bilities through the unthinking presumption that our common sense is uni- versal.
the daode jing and comparative philosophy 53
Ontological and Cosmological Issues
In the Western metaphysical tradition, ''Being'' is most generally thought to be either a common property of things, in the sense of a universal applying to all things, or a container that relates things by placing them within its own structure. Metaphysical notions of Being are generally associated with the concept of ground; the relation of Being and beings, then, is thought to be that of indeterminate ground and determinate things.
Nonbeing is characterized as the negation of Being either in a simple, logical sense, or as the Nihil, the Void, the experience of which, as in Heidegger's philosophy, evokes a sense of existential angst or dread.
The disposition of the Chinese from the beginning to the present is highly inhospitable to fixed forms of asymmetrical relations such as is ex- pressed by the relation of Being and nonbeing. The Chinese existential verb you (''being'') overlaps with the sense of ''having'' rather than the copula, and therefore you, ''to be,'' means ''to be present,'' ''to be around,'' while wu, ''not to be,'' means ''not to be present,'' ''not to be around. '' This means that wu does not indicate strict opposition or contradiction, but absence. Thus, the you/wu distinction suggests mere contrast in the sense of either the presence or absence of x, rather than an assertion of the existence or nonexistence of x.
Thus, if one translates you and wu in chapter 40 of the Daode jing as being and nonbeing, respectively, the following translation might result: ''The things of the world originate in Being. And Being originates in Nonbeing. '' Such language can be most misleading if taken in the classical Western senses of Being and Nonbeing. Following the general preference of the Daode jing for reversing certain classical contrasts, wu appears to be given preference over you, as is yin (''passive,'') over yang (''active''). Interpreting wu as ''Nonbeing'' would, then, suggest a preference for Nonbeing over Being, and this has led to some rather ridiculous mystical speculations to the effect that the Nihil or the Void, as Nonexistence, has priority over Being-Itself. Such an assumption of the senses of being and nonbeing deriving from the metaphysical contexts of Western philosophy can lead to total misunderstanding of the text. For, as a Chinese saying has it: ''If one is off an inch at the bow, then one will be off several feet at the target. '' Thus in place of the claim that, for the Daoist, nonbeing is superior to being, it would be best to claim that nothing takes precedence over some- thing. An alternative translation--ironically, with strong Marxist overtones-- would be: ''not having'' is superior to ''having. ''
The distinctive character of the you/wu problematic in the Daode jing allows for an interesting discussion of the presently topical postmodern critiques of
54 approaching the daode jing
reason. For one of the implications of the absence in that work of any notion of Being as existence per se is that there is no notion of Being as ontological ground and no need for a metaphysical contrast between Being and beings. There is no need to overcome the logocentrism of a language of presence grounded in ontological difference if no distinction between Being and beings, or beings and their ground, is urged by the classical Chinese language and its philosophical employment. A Chinese language of presence is a language of making present the item itself, not its essence.
Language that does not lead one to posit ontological difference between Being and beings, but only a difference between one being and another, sug- gests a decentered world whose centers and circumferences are always defined in an ad hoc manner. The mass of classical Chinese philosophical discourse, then, is in no need of deconstruction since the senses of you and wu within the Chinese sensibility do not lead to the creation of texts that could legitimately be targets of the deconstructor.
One may gain greater insight into this rather unusual sense of the being/ nonbeing relation in Chinese thought through an interpretation of the fa- mous first lines of the Daode jing:
The Way that can be spoken of is not the constant Way. The name that can be named is not the constant name. The nameless is the beginning of the ten-thousand things. 1
Nameless Dao is best construed here, not as ontological ground, but merely as the noncoherent sum of all possible orders. The natural cosmology of classical China does not entail a single-ordered cosmos, but invokes an understanding of a world constituted by myriad unique particulars: ''the ten thousand things. ''
An important implication of the you/wu relationship in Chinese intellec- tual culture is that the relevant contrast is not, as in the West, between the cosmological whatness of things and the ontological thatness of things; rather, it is a contrast between the cosmos as the sum of all orders and the world as construed from some particular perspective--that is, any particular one of the orders.
In the absence of a sense of Being as a common property or a relational structure, the world is not coherent in the sense that a single pattern or telos could be said to characterize its processes. It is not a whole, but many such wholes. It is not the superordinate One to which the Many reduce. Its order is not rational or logical, but aesthetic; that is, there is no transcending pattern determining the existence or efficacy of the order. The order is a consequence of the particulars comprising the totality of existing things.
the daode jing and comparative philosophy 55
This interpretation of being of the world makes of it a totality not in the sense of a single-ordered cosmos, but in the sense of the sum of all cosmo- logical orders. Any given order is an existing world that is construed from the perspective of a particular element within the totality. But, as a single world, it is a selective abstraction from the totality of possible orders that are presently not around. The being of this order is not ontological in a foundational sense, but ''cosmological'' in the sense that it concerns, not Being-Itself, but the ''beings'' of the world and their relational order. Such an abstracted, selected order cannot serve as fundament or ground. Thus, the Chinese sense of being entails the notion, rather striking from our Western perspective, that all differences are cosmological differences.
The Chinese understanding of the you/wu relationship has profound im- plications for the manner in which philosophic discourse is shaped throughout the Chinese tradition. Without recourse to the senses of ''Being'' associated with Western speculative philosophies, assumptions we take for granted as conditions for philosophizing are simply not present. The proper under- standing of ''being'' in the Chinese tradition helps us to account for the fact that there is no real ''metaphysical'' tradition in China if we mean by metaphysics anything like a universal science of first principles or a study of Being-Itself. In fact, within the strictly Chinese philosophical tradition there is little interest in asking about what makes something real or why things exist.
When we address distinctly cosmological issues--such as ''What kinds of things are there? '' or ''What are the basic categories that make up the world as we know it? ''--the situation is the same. Although it is true that Chinese thinkers, particularly the Daoists, ask about things, they do not ask about ca- tegories or kinds in any manner that would suggest that things have logical essences or constitute natural kinds. Because there is nothing like ''Being'' that shines through the beings of the world--because there are only the beings of the world--there is no effective impulse to handle cosmological issues by asking after the logos of the cosmos.
The principal reason Chinese thinkers are not apt to ask after the logos of the cosmos is that they lack a dominant concern for approaching what we term the ''cosmos'' as a single-ordered Whole. The term, often used in the Daode jing, that qualifies the Chinese understanding of what we term the ''cosmos'' is wan wu, ''the ten thousand things,'' or, as D. C. Lau often renders the term, ''the myriad creatures. '' Thus, ''the nameless is the beginning of the ten thousand things. The named is the mother of the ten thousand things. ''
The Chinese stress on locutions such as ''ten thousand things'' suggests the same insight we encountered in terms of our discussion of the you/wu relationship. Without a viable notion of Being as ground, there is no basis on
56 approaching the daode jing
which one can presume the existence of a single-ordered world, a cosmos. Thus the testimony of the Daode jing is that the world is to be seen as a plurality: a many, not a one. Such an understanding of the world precludes the no- tion of cosmos, insofar as that notion entails either a coherent, single-ordered world or a congeries of entities with essential features or essential modes of connection.
The Wu-forms of Daoism
One of the more fascinating aspects of the discussions of the Daode jing is the doctrine of wuwei, literally ''no-action. '' ''Do that which consists in taking no action, and order will prevail'' (3). ''The Way never acts yet nothing is left undone'' (37). Sentiments such as these express a doctrine of the art of rulership in which the ''the best of rulers is but a shadowy presence to his subjects'' (17). But from the perspective of the comparative philosopher, it is interesting to note that it is not only Western understandings of ''action'' that are pro- blematized by the Daode jing, but the allied notions of knowledge and desire also receive a ''reversed'' interpretation in the forms of wuzhi (''no knowledge'') and wuyu (''no desire'').
The reason this is especially interesting with respect to Chinese/Western comparisons is that the understandings of knowing, acting, and desiring in the Western tradition have been strongly influenced by the tripartite model of the psyche deriving from Plato and perpetuated subsequently in various forms in the Western tradition. Contrasting understandings of the modalities of knowledge, action, and desire in the Daode jing with the manner in which they are construed in the philosophical traditions influenced by the Platonic psyche can provide a host of productive insights into the differences of Chinese and Western cultures.
The first thing to say about the general approach to philosophical anthro- pology in the West is that dominant theories of the self are shaped in accor- dance with a model of personality in which the self is seen as internally conflicted, that is, at war with itself. In Plato, the primary conflict is between reason and the passionate and volitional elements of the soul. This conflict is ramified with the confluence of Hebraic and Hellenic sensibilities, coming to be expressed in the words of St. Paul: ''The good that I would do, I do not do; the evil that I would not do, that I do. '' This understanding of the soul in conflict receives a famous modern interpretation with Hume's claim that ''reason al- ways shall be a slave to the passions. '' The Humean interpretation is in turn reflected in the traditional conception of Freud's personality theory as based on the conflictual dynamics of id, ego, and superego.
the daode jing and comparative philosophy 57
The tripartite model of the self undergirds the institutionalization of the division between theory and practice that has characterized so much of our intellectual culture; it has influenced, for example, the search for scientific objectivity which has urged a separation of reason and the passions. In addi- tion, conflict between the dynamics of power and justice in political culture is a consequence of writing large the tensions between volitional and rational components of the soul.
One can readily see from this that making comparisons between Chinese and Western understandings of knowledge, action, and desire might lead to extremely important insights into these contrasting cultures. The general les- son is that it is of some benefit to be aware of the uncommon assumptions on this issue of ''the soul at war. '' Otherwise, we shall surely misconstrue Chinese understandings of the self and the relevance of those understandings to larger social and cultural contexts.
When we turn to the Daode jing to discover Daoist contributions to these issues, we see that there are terms such as zhi, wei, and yu that initially seem to correlate rather closely with what we call knowing, acting, and desiring. But it is important to realize that the understanding of knowledge, action, and desire found in the Daode jing is by no means based on a model of the self that presumes an internal struggle of reason against the obstreperous passions or will. The Daoists do not ''slice the pie,'' as is done in the West; effectively, there are no faculties of knowing, doing, and feeling that can be distinguished one from the other, and there is no division between the modalities of reason on the one hand and appetite and will on the other.
If the Daoist self is not divided in the manner of the Western model of the tripartite soul, how are we to account for these three modalities? The wu-forms must be thought of simply as activities that establish the deferential relations that give rise to the self at any given moment. They are not faculties; they form no coherent psyche.
In discussing the wu-forms of Daoism it is essential that we call attention to the absence of a mind/body dualism in classical Chinese thought. It is this dualism, after all, that determines the principal conflict within the self between reason and the affective and volitional components.
In the absence of a mind/body dichotomy in Daoist understandings of the self, the basis for the conflictual dynamics of the psyche is not present. Further, because the distinctions among the affective, volitional, and rational compo- nents are not made in terms of a unified model of the self, the idea of a self at war with itself doesn't make much sense to the Chinese.
The best way of understanding the Daoist self is as a function of its rela- tions with its world shaped by wuzhi, wuwei, and wuyou. To see this in the most
58 approaching the daode jing
productive manner, however, it is necessary to provide interpretations of the wu-forms that take account of the philosophical significance of the terms. Doing so has led me to translate these terms in the following manner: I render wuwei as ''nonassertive action,'' wuzhi as ''unprincipled knowing,'' and wuyu as ''objectless desire. ''
Wuwei, often translated as ''no action'' or ''nonaction,'' involves the ab- sence of any action that interferes with the particularity of those things within one's field of influence. Actions untainted by stored knowledge or ingrained habits are unmediated, unstructured, unprincipled, and spontaneous. As such, they are consequences of deferential responses to the item or event in accordance with which, or in relation to which, one is acting. They are non- assertive actions.
It would be a mistake to interpret the modes of disposition named by the wu-forms as passive. The deferential activities underlying these modes are shaped by the intrinsic excellences of those things calling forth deference. Deference is deference to recognized excellence. The assumption must be that the Daoist sage sees beneath the layers of artifice that mask the naturalness of persons and things and responds to the excellence so advertised. Further, deference is a two-way street. The excellence of the realized Daoist calls forth deference from others. The wu-forms operate within a context of yielding and being yielded to. The model of the sage-ruler in the Daode jing is described in terms of wuwei. Thus the sage says, ''I am non-assertive [wuwei] and the people are transformed of themselves'' (57). Further, the sage-ruler ''constantly causes the people to seek 'unprincipled knowing' [wuzhi] and to be objectless in their desires [wuyu]. In simply acting non-assertively [wuwei], everything is properly ordered'' (3).
An interesting illustration of wuwei is found in the ''push-hands'' (duishou) exercise associated with the Chinese exercise form known as taijiquan. Two individuals facing one another perform various circular movements of the arms while maintaining minimal hand contact. The movement of each individual mirrors that of the other. Wuwei is realized when the movements of each are sensed, by both parties, to be uninitiated and effortless. I often attempt to demonstrate the notion of wuwei by leading my students in a brief set of ''push- hands'' exercises.
Wuzhi, as ''no-knowledge,'' means the absence of a certain kind of knowledge, the sort dependent on ontological presence. Knowledge grounded in a denial of ontological presence involves the sort of acosmotic thinking that does not presuppose a single-ordered world and its intellectual accoutre- ments. It is, therefore, unprincipled knowing. Such knowing does not appeal
the daode jing and comparative philosophy 59
to rules or principles determining the existence, meaning, or activity of a phenomenon. Wuzhi provides one with a sense of the particularity of a thing rather than what that thing is as a member of a class or an instance of a concept.
Wuzhi, or ''knowing without principles,'' is tacit and, though inexpress- ible in literal terms, may be communicated though parabolic and imagistic language. The story alluded to at the very outset of this essay concerning the Confucian critic's challenge to Laozi's attempting to speak of the Way that rightfully cannot be spoken of indicates that he has missed the fact that one must approach parabolic language through wuzhi--that is, through a refusal to shape one's understanding by appeal to categories and principles of that which is to be known. Such parabolic language is distinctive in an acosmotic context since metaphor and imagery do not presuppose a literal ground. The parabolic language of the Daode jing is, from the beginning, a language of difference and particularity. It is this language that permits the communi- cation of the results of wuzhi.
The best characterization of the term wuyu is ''objectless desire. '' Since neither unprincipled knowing nor nonassertive action can in the strict sense objectify a world or any element in it, the desiring associated with the Daoist sensibility is objectless. Thus, wuyu, rather than involving the cessation of desire through possession and consummation, represents the achievement of deferential desire. Desire based on a mirroring understanding (wuzhi) and a nonassertive relationship (wuwei) is not shaped by the need to own, control, or consume, but simply to celebrate and to enjoy.
The Daoist problematic does not concern what is desired but the manner of the desiring. Objectless desire always allows for letting be and letting go. Enjoyment for the Daoist is realized not in spite of the fact that one might lose what is desired, but because of this fact. The world is a complex set of pro- cesses of transformation, never at rest. In Plato, the desire for knowledge (eros) is the only thing that can define both embodied and disembodied ex- istence; it is the only desire that can be permanent, eternal. In Daoism, transient desire is the only desire that lets things be, that does not construe the world in a certain manner, that does not seek to render static a world of changing things.
The mirroring activity associated with the Daoist wu-forms is a form of activity that allows things to be themselves both in their transitoriness and their particularity. It is the things themselves as individual events and pro- cesses, and the orders construed from their particular perspectives, that are reflected in the mirroring process.
60 approaching the daode jing
Summary
It has been my experience that the discussion of the Daode jing in an under- graduate class is remarkably beneficial in helping students gain insights into these and many other ''uncommon assumptions'' that highlight differences between Chinese and Western philosophical perspectives. By juxtaposing them in the way I've described, aspects of each tradition become clearer. Once stu- dents who have already been introduced to Western philosophy come to un- derstand the cosmology implicit in the Daode jing, they can more easily recognize how Western cosmologies and ontologies are strategic choices rather than revelations of things as they are. At the same time, those students who are grappling with Chinese texts like the Daode jing can see its distinctiveness more clearly once they contrast it with Western ontological choices.
In closing I should note that the above notwithstanding, I certainly do recognize that the philosophical import of this work by no means exhausts its significance. Its poetic value, for example, is clearly as significant as its philosophical worth. Nonetheless, as a comparative philosopher of culture I have found the Daode jing--more than any other single work--to be well-nigh indispensable as an introduction to Chinese and Western thought.
note
1. All citations are from Tao Te Ching, trans. by D. C. Lau (New York: Penguin Books, 1963).
? Mysticism In the Daode Jing Gary D. DeAngelis
Years ago, at another college, as I began a section of an Asian reli- gions course on Daoism, one of my students stood up and an- nounced rather irreverently that ''talking about the Dao is total bullshit and a waste of f----ing time. '' He then proceeded to pack up his things and march out of the classroom, heading off, I pre- sumed, into the existential void. While students sat in stunned dis- belief I took this rather opportune moment to inform them that, though undoubtedly apocryphal, nearly 2,500 years ago the great sage Laozi enacted this exact same performance, albeit a bit more eloquently, at the Western Gate of China, renouncing both society and philosophical speculation as hopeless. Unlike the legendary Laozi, this student did return at the next class session, and we went on to explore and, in fact, talk about conceptions of the Dao.
That particular performance was so effective in jump-starting that section of the course on Daoism that, in subsequent semes- ters, I've considered paying a student to repeat it with, I hoped, the same effect. I have refrained from following through on such a plan, not wanting to violate the Daoist call for spontaneity, but I have often recounted that story to new students; though undoubtedly
not having the same impact as the original performance, they gen- erally have found it quite amusing. Having taught for over thirty years I must admit to being rather shameless about reusing stories or jokes that students still find amusing.
62 approaching the daode jing
During my own career as a smug undergraduate, in reading the Daode jing for the first time I was struck by the fact that this supposed great Chinese sage claimed that one can never really define or even discuss the Dao, and yet he did discuss it. While others were enthralled by Laozi I was convinced (like my misinformed student) that I alone had unmasked this itinerant guru for the obvious charlatan that he was. Couldn't anyone see that after that classic opening refrain he would have been extremely wise to abide by his own maxim that ''those who know don't say and those who don't know say''--a refrain that I continue to caution students against using on exams.
Now, considerably older and perhaps a bit wiser, I have come to appreciate the insight of the many Laozis of the Daode jing. The initial caveat in the opening lines is followed by subtle hints, suggestions, whispers, and allusions as to the nature of the Dao, which do provide glimpses for our rational mind to understand something about the Dao. If, in fact, the Dao is everything (as is claimed), it is, in part, rational mind. However, it is also true that these spec- ulative glimpses are things about the Dao. To truly know the Dao it is strongly implied that one must go beyond intellect to intuition, where the knower, in a sense, becomes the known, that is, where one becomes the Dao.
What I would like to delineate in this essay is how I have explored and used the Daode jing as a mystical text over the years, primarily in the context of a course called ''Comparative Mysticism,'' and how that particular perspective has helped both my students and me to better understand the nature, meaning, and basic principles of the Daode jing in whatever context it may be used. Unlike some of the other contributors to this volume, I am not a specialist in Chinese religions. My field is the comparative study of religions with a focus on Asian religions and a specific interest in sacred space, pilgrimage, and ritual. Al- though I have done fieldwork in China I do not read classical Chinese. So my use of the Daode jing has been dependent on the use of translations, which are identified at a later point in the essay.
I have used the Daode jing for the past twenty-six years, for the most part at small undergraduate colleges, in such courses as ''Asian Religions,'' ''Religions of China and Japan,'' and ''Comparative Mysticism. '' My use of the text has changed over that time as both my understanding of it and my own scholarly interests have changed. In spite of the fact that I've been using this text solely with undergraduates and, for the most part, at the introductory level (pre- supposing little or no background in Chinese religions or culture), I am still committed to taking a scholarly approach, making them aware of both the complexity of this text and the necessity and value of examining it within its historical and cultural context. I have resisted the temptation and, at times, desire of students to oversimplify the text, take it out of context, and Westernize
mysticism in the daode jing 63
and romanticize it into what Norm Girardot refers to as ''Pooh Bear Daoism. '' However, the challenge we continue to face, as both scholars and teachers of undergraduates, is how to walk that very fine line between maintaining the integrity of the text while effectively communicating its meaning to an audience of general readers.
I would agree wholeheartedly with numerous China scholars that the Daode jing reflects a particular school (used loosely) of thought, somewhat prevalent in fourth-century b. c. e. China, and that in order to make an attempt to understand the intended meaning of this text it is essential to understand not only Chinese culture and the Chinese religious worldview but also the cultural, religious, and political milieu of the late Zhou period. In addition, it would also be beneficial to have a sense of who was compiling this text and for whom it was being written. I think that this is true in reading any text from any culture. In a sense, the Daode jing reflects its period and culture and can provide us with a window into understanding classical China and perhaps something of the Chinese religious worldview as it has evolved over the past 2,500 years. It is important to note that although this is obviously a classical text, it continues to be widely read in China today.
There is undoubtedly inherent value in studying other cultures and worldviews in and of themselves. I would also argue that there is intrinsic value in discovering particular truths or insights in other cultures which may have a timeless and universal value and may help us to make sense out of life and understand something about the nature of our being and our place in the cosmos. Indeed, there is the danger of Westernizing a text like the Daode jing in order to make the foreign and exotic familiar and comfortable. I would also say, however, that, as scholars and teachers, we must be equally vigilant against being ruled by cultural relativism. Indeed, we want our students to have a true understanding of the Chinese worldview, but that does not mean that a classical text like the Daode jing does not contain basic principles that may inspire them in some ways, enlighten them in others, or may even be applied to their lives. They can be good scholars but also moved by what they discover without going native or surrendering their objectivity. They may be from a different culture and be shaped by different circumstances and forces, but ultimately they are of the same species and have the capacity to respond to certain universal truths. Why are the Japanese so enthralled with Shakespeare and the Chinese with Beethoven?
I am suggesting two distinct orientations or goals in interpreting and understanding the Daode jing: what it meant originally in its historical context and what it means to us now. However, these goals, as Michael LaFargue suggests, ''are not by any means exclusive, and it is possible to combine them. ''1
64 approaching the daode jing
The overwhelming majority of us using this text are not preparing students to become China scholars nor to fulfill some spiritual void in their lives. I would reaffirm, however, that we do have a scholarly obligation to use the text as honestly and truthfully as possible to capture its original meaning or intent, which, admittedly, will also be an interpretation based on what sources we choose. Our responsibility is to choose the sources wisely and judiciously and to provide a legitimate context for exploration.
Once again, what I would like to focus on is my use of the Daode jing as a mystical text and why I have used it this way. The particular course that I will be focusing on is called ''Comparative Mysticism,'' which I have taught in nu- merous incarnations over the past twenty years. Initially, this course focused on the comparative study of the mystical dimensions, schools, beliefs, and prac- tices in an assortment of different religious traditions. In its early incarnation the course was called ''Saints and Mystics'' and became affectionately known around campus as S&M. As my own work became more interdisciplinary and multidisciplinary over the years that shift was also reflected in the changing focus of this course. In its present incarnation it examines mysticism from philosophical, anthropological, psychological, religious, and scientific per- spectives. I may vary the types of religious mysticism we look at, but more often than not it has been Sufism (Islamic mysticism) and Chinese mysticism (Daoism). I make it quite clear to students, through discussion and course readings, that there is a rich and complex history to both Islamic and Chinese mysticism and that while neither Ibn' Attar's Conference of the Birds nor the Daode jing are fully representative of either tradition, they do embody some basic principles from each.
For the purposes of this essay I am using the term mysticism to mean religious mysticism, but even then in a fairly general and inclusive way. While the term mysticism is used to cover a broad range of experiences among fairly diverse traditions, there has been general agreement among scholars of mys- ticism and phenomenologists of religion as to the nature of mystical experience and what characterizes mystical states. 2 The term generally covers a wide range of spiritual and religious experience in which one directly experiences that which is perceived to be ultimately real, for example, the transcendent, the sacred, the holy, the divine. This direct experience, which is usually identified as a state of union or oneness, is one that intuitively imparts knowledge of ultimate reality by virtue of the knower becoming the known.
16. Wuwei, acting by not acting, is one of the traits of the Dao and the Sage. The opening line of chapter 37 in the Laozi is ''Dao invariably takes no action, and yet there is nothing left undone. '' Chan, The Way, 166.
17. Chan, The Way, 192.
18. Ibid. , 194.
19. Ibid. , 128.
20. See especially chapter 6 and the phrase: ''The Great Clod burdens me with
form, labors me with life, eases me in old age, and rests me in death. '' Burton Watson, Chuang Tzu: Basic Writings (New York: Columbia University Press, 1964), 76. The Dao as the ''great Clod'' is the subject of H. G. Creel's essay ''The Great Clod,'' in Herrlee G. Creel, What is Taoism? And other Studies in Chinese Cultural History (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1970), 25-36.
21. From John G. Neihardt, Black Elk Speaks: Being the Life Story of a Holy Man of the Oglala Sioux (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1961), 3.
22. We quite often find the combination of Sky-father and Earth-mother as world parents. However, there are instances of the Earth Mother herself giving birth out of
the dao and the field 45
46 approaching the daode jing
her own fecundity. On this see Mircea Eliade, The Sacred and the Profane (New York: Harper & Row, 1967), 144-145.
23. The dates here given are traditional. Our evidence from the Shang oracle bones actually accounts only for the period 1324-1225 b. c. , the reign of Wu Ding. H. G. Creel The Birth of China (New York: Frederick Ungar, 1937), 180-181. The she and fang sacrifices were offered to the god(s) of the land and the spirits of the four quarters, respectively, in the spring and summer for aid in the growing season. Lester J. Bilsky, ''The State Religion of Ancient China'' (PhD diss. , University of Washington, 1971), 59-62.
24. Shangdi is the name given to the supreme deity in the oracle texts of the Shang; Heaven, or Tian, is more commonly used by the Zhou, although they at times also use the name Shangdi. Both names refer to a deity of the ''sky-god'' type, an all- powerful, supreme deity who is constantly watching what goes on below. Both can and do intervene in human events; with Heaven this is done for moral purposes: he gives a mandate to a ruler, a contract to rule, and intervenes to remove this if the conditions are not upheld. Shangdi and Tian could be two distinct deities, the former of the Shang and the latter of the Zhou. Or it could be that Tian is another name for Shangdi, or a Shangdi who has been transformed. The best reading on this problem is found in D. Howard Smith, Chinese Religions from 1000 b. c. to the Present Day (London: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1968), 12-21, and H. G. Creel, The Origins of Statecraft in China, vol. 1: The Western Chou Empire (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1970), 81-100, 493-506.
25. Both Laozi and Zhuangzi are reported to have come from the state of Chu, an area whose customs and beliefs are well known to have differed markedly from those of the Zhou states to the north.
26. I have in mind the controversial lines in chapters 5 and 3. Respectively they read: ''The sage is not humane. He regards all people as straw dogs''; ''Therefore in the government of the sage, He keeps their hearts vacuous, Fills their bellies, Weakens their ambitions, And strengthens their bones. '' Chan, The Way, 107, 103.
27. Ibid. , 131, 132, 167. 28. Ibid. , 128.
29. Ibid. , 157.
30. Ibid. , 179.
31. Ibid. , 192.
32. Ibid. , 205.
33. That the Chinese here is jiu (''long time'') in the first case and chang jiu (much
the same meaning) in the second suggests to me life's coming to an end at some point.
34. Chan, The Way, 188. It is interesting to note that in the Mawangdui copies of the Laozi, the opening line of this chapter has ''one who is good at holding on to life (zhisheng),'' instead of ''one who is a good preserver of his life (shesheng). '' (zhish- eng). See Laozi: Mawangdui, 69.
35. In chapter 17 of the Zhuangzi we have a passage where this kind of inter- pretation of how the Daoist avoids harm seems to be implied. Either that, or the
Daoist simply does not see harm as harm and accepts whatever comes his way. The passage reads: ''And he who knows how to deal with circumstances will not allow things to do him harm. When a man has perfect virtue, fire cannot burn him, water cannot drown him, cold and heat cannot afflict him, birds and beasts cannot injure him. I do not say that he makes light of these things. I mean that he distinguishes between safety and danger, contents himself with fortune and misfortune, and is constant in his comings and goings. '' Watson, Chuang Tzu, 104.
36. In chapter 4 of the Zhuangzi we read of the tiger trainer who succeeds by not going against the fierce dispositions of the tigers: he does not give them any- thing alive that they would have to kill, or anything whole that they would have to tear up. Ibid. , 59.
37. Chan, The Way, 159. The silk texts would seem to support this since they substitute ''not forgotten'' (bu wang) for ''not perish'' (bu wang). But since the character for ''forgotten'' is made by adding the ''heart'' element to the character for ''perish,'' and since the adding of an element to the correct character is common in the silk texts, ''perish'' might still be the intended word. See Laozi: Mawangdui, 93.
38. I should note that in addition to the evidence already cited, there is one other thing that could support this. Ellen Ch'en, in her essay ''Is There a Doctrine of Physical Immortality in the Tao-te-ching? ,'' History of Religions 12, no. 3 (1973): 231- 247, notes the phrase mo shen bu dai (in chapters 16 and 52), which she translates as ''to lose the body without coming to an end. '' Unfortunately this phrase is open to interpretation. Chan translates it as ''free from danger throughout his lifetime'' in both places. Arthur Waley has ''though his body ceases is not destroyed'' in chapter 16, which supports Professor Ch'en, but ''and to the end of his days suffers no harm'' in chapter 52. See Arthur Waley, trans. , The Way and its Power: A Study of the Tao Te Ching and Its Place in Chinese Thought (New York: Grove, 1958), 162, 206.
39. In addition to the Zhuangzi passages cited below, the Liezi follows this line and specifies what is involved. Man is a combination of dense qi (breath, energy) from the earth (his body), and subtle, active qi from heaven (his breath and vital energies). At death these qi return to their sources and are then recycled. See A. C. Graham, trans. , The Book of Lieh-tzu (London: Lewis Reprints, 1973), 14-15, 18-20, 20-23, especially the anecdotes.
40. Watson, Chuang Tzu, 81. I would not take ''Creator'' here in a literal sense. I think it is used by Zhuangzi as another way to talk about the creative work of the Dao; natural transformation is all that is involved.
41. WatsonnotesthatMoyewasafamousswordofKingHelu(reigned514-496 b. c. ) of Wu.
42. William Theodore deBary, The Buddhist Tradition in India, China and Japan (New York: Random House, 1972), 134-135. From a text called Mouzi li huo lun (Mouzi Settling Doubts), which is traditionally believed to date from the end of the second century a. d.
the dao and the field 47
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? The Daode Jing and Comparative Philosophy
David L. Hall
The Confucian asks, ''Master Lao, you say that 'the way that can be spoken of is the constant way. ' Why, then, do you offer so many words which speak of the Way? ''
To which Laozi replies, ''I make for you a golden embroidery of drakes and pass it along for your enjoyment. I cannot, however, show you the golden needle by which it was made. ''
Before beginning any classroom discussion of the Daode jing I always recount this apocryphal exchange as a means of making a point about the language of that work and, indeed, of language generally. That cautionary tale is useful in warning us not to mis- take the embroidery, however fine, for the ''golden needle'' that permits its creation. And, of course, the Daoist would believe that the sentiment of this story suggests the mood with which we might well approach language itself.
Words, the Daoist might say, serve as both signposts and barriers. It is as if the very sign that tells us where to go stands in the way of our getting there. Were I, for example, to encounter a sign in the form of a roadblock across the only highway leading into town that read ''El Paso 99 Miles,'' I would know that I was heading in the right direction but would be prevented from going home.
Knowing this, we may be reconciled to the fact that traveling along the way that can be spoken of is the only means whereby we may celebrate the Nameless Dao. Its ability to provide its
50 approaching the daode jing
readers important experiences of the evocation of meaning beyond any words is what makes the Daode jing one of the most provocative of all the texts of world literature.
My first encounter with this book was as oblique as is the language of the work itself. As a high school student, I was on a long bus trip across the western states. While at a rest stop in Pecos, Texas, I was browsing through books and magazines displayed at the bus depot. Amid the usual examples of romance and detective fiction were two books whose titles immediately caught my eye: The first was A. N. Whitehead's Adventures of Ideas; the second was a work entitled The Way of Life. Its subtitle was The Tao Te Ching. I recall being fas- cinated by both works, each of which promised to transform my rather dull bus trip into a far more exciting journey. I had only enough money for one book, however, and so had to make a decision. After several minutes, I finally selected Adventures of Ideas.
I have come to believe that my encounter with these two books was more significant than I initially thought. For, some years later, as a graduate student, I selected the philosophy of Whitehead as the subject of my dissertation re- search. And it was not long after I began teaching that I found myself extending my interest in process philosophy by comparing Whiteheadian thinking with the Daoist sensibility through a consultation of the Daode jing.
Comparative Philosophy as a Collaborative Enterprise
Before discussing the manner in which I use the Daode jing in the classroom, it might be useful to address another issue concerning the pedagogy of that text. For those such as I who do not read classical Chinese, the question arises as to how one might approach the work. I assume that relatively few of those who employ this text in undergraduate teaching are expert in Chinese language and culture. In my experience, this is particularly true of those who use the work as a philosophical text. I would like to ask, therefore, by way of introducing the remainder of my remarks: ''What is the role of the Western philosopher in furthering the appropriate use of classical Chinese texts in the classroom? ''
The first thing to be said is that, quite obviously, if a translation of the Daode jing is to be relevant to the Western context, it is not enough that the translator be expert in only Chinese thought and culture. A reasonably subtle understanding of the Western philosophical tradition is presumed in every adequate translation of that work into Anglo-European languages. In the ab- sence of this combination of sinological and Western philosophical skills in a
the daode jing and comparative philosophy 51
single individual, the translation of the Daode jing into an English-speaking context suggests the need for collaboration between Chinese and Western specialists. Often this collaboration is minimally accomplished when the in- dividual ignorant of the Chinese language consults a number of different translations of a given text and seeks some broad understanding of the history and culture of the period that contextualizes the work he or she is seeking to understand. Without some such concern, the Western interpreter of texts such as the Daode jing is likely to present either a superficial or a distorted inter- pretation. By the same token, when the sinologist seeks to translate a Chinese classic into English, he or she has the responsibility of gaining some under- standing of the general cultural context into which he or she is seeking to translate the given work. Nothing is more disappointing than to pick up a copy of the Daode jing, the Zhuangzi, or the Analects translated by someone who, however subtle his or her sinological skills, is relatively innocent of the Western intellectual tradition. The result is always a travestied, trivialized, and un- teachable text.
My own understanding of Chinese texts has benefited significantly from a collaboration begun some fifteen years ago with the sinologist Roger Ames of the University of Hawai'i. Ames's expertise in classical Chinese language and Chinese philosophical texts, combined with my knowledge of Western phi- losophy and the methodology of comparative cultures, has provided each of us with a more solid foundation from which to communicate the language of Chinese philosophy to undergraduate and graduate students.
Moreover, it is important to note that, though I am not trained in Chinese language, the speculative interpretation of Daoism contained in some of my earliest published writings has in fact influenced the translation of key terms in the more specialized treatments in subsequent works by Ames and me. Moreover, that interpretation is elaborated in our discussions of Daoism in our recent work, Thinking from the Han, as well as in articles on the subject of Daoism by the two of us in the Routledge Encyclopedia of Philosophy.
My intent here is really not to boast about my understanding of Daoism. I merely wish to correct what I consider to be a serious misunderstanding that affects the appropriate exercise of comparative Chinese/Western thought. In the case of texts such as the Daode jing, Western-trained philosophers have, on the whole, a great deal more to contribute to the translation of Chinese intel- lectual culture into Western cultural contexts than they might otherwise be- lieve. Making sense of texts such as the Daode jing within an Anglo-European philosophical milieu is, first and foremost, a collaborative effort. Until this fact is endorsed by both (sometimes) overly confident sinologists and (often) all too
52 approaching the daode jing
timid Western specialists, the translation of Chinese philosophical texts into Anglo-European contexts will never reach the most desirable level.
The Daode Jing and Comparative Philosophy
As one of my principal philosophical interests is comparative thought, I most often have recourse to the Daode jing in classes devoted to Chinese and Western comparisons. The strategy of such a course is to suggest some fundamental assumptions of Western thought that might not be common to mainstream Chinese cultural sensibilities. The method involves attempting to bracket these assumptions in order better to understand the presupposi- tions of Chinese intellectual culture. There are, of course, many possible topics for such ''uncommon assumptions. '' Chinese and Western classical cultures originate from alternative assumptions that shape dramatically con- trasting senses of ontological and cosmological issues, such as the nature of ''being'' and ''existence,'' the sense of ''cosmos'' or ''world,'' the understand- ing of ''natural laws'' and ''casual relations. '' In addition, classical Chinese approaches to such Western philosophical topics as ''self,'' ''truth,'' ''tran- scendence,'' ''reason,'' ''logic,'' and ''rhetoric'' are quite distinct from the dominant family of Western understandings of these topics.
I have found that the Daode jing is helpful in making all of these im- portant cultural comparisons. In what follows I wish merely to highlight a few of these issues as a means of demonstrating the value of the Daode jing as a text in comparative philosophy.
The first topic permits a contrast of Chinese and Western treatments of ''Being'' and the sources of world-order. The second involves the general treatment of the person construed in terms of the tripartite structure of the psyche originating in Plato, a model of ''personality'' that has been central to our tradition since that time. These two issues allow for a general under- standing of some striking differences among concepts of ''self and world'' found in Chinese and Western cultures.
This approach is relevant beyond the efforts merely to train philosophers. Issues fundamental to the way we commonsensically think about the world are sedimented in the patterns of thought and expression of every reasonably ed- ucated person. Unless we seek to uncover at least some of our ''uncommon assumptions,'' we shall err in our interpretation of alternative cultural sensi- bilities through the unthinking presumption that our common sense is uni- versal.
the daode jing and comparative philosophy 53
Ontological and Cosmological Issues
In the Western metaphysical tradition, ''Being'' is most generally thought to be either a common property of things, in the sense of a universal applying to all things, or a container that relates things by placing them within its own structure. Metaphysical notions of Being are generally associated with the concept of ground; the relation of Being and beings, then, is thought to be that of indeterminate ground and determinate things.
Nonbeing is characterized as the negation of Being either in a simple, logical sense, or as the Nihil, the Void, the experience of which, as in Heidegger's philosophy, evokes a sense of existential angst or dread.
The disposition of the Chinese from the beginning to the present is highly inhospitable to fixed forms of asymmetrical relations such as is ex- pressed by the relation of Being and nonbeing. The Chinese existential verb you (''being'') overlaps with the sense of ''having'' rather than the copula, and therefore you, ''to be,'' means ''to be present,'' ''to be around,'' while wu, ''not to be,'' means ''not to be present,'' ''not to be around. '' This means that wu does not indicate strict opposition or contradiction, but absence. Thus, the you/wu distinction suggests mere contrast in the sense of either the presence or absence of x, rather than an assertion of the existence or nonexistence of x.
Thus, if one translates you and wu in chapter 40 of the Daode jing as being and nonbeing, respectively, the following translation might result: ''The things of the world originate in Being. And Being originates in Nonbeing. '' Such language can be most misleading if taken in the classical Western senses of Being and Nonbeing. Following the general preference of the Daode jing for reversing certain classical contrasts, wu appears to be given preference over you, as is yin (''passive,'') over yang (''active''). Interpreting wu as ''Nonbeing'' would, then, suggest a preference for Nonbeing over Being, and this has led to some rather ridiculous mystical speculations to the effect that the Nihil or the Void, as Nonexistence, has priority over Being-Itself. Such an assumption of the senses of being and nonbeing deriving from the metaphysical contexts of Western philosophy can lead to total misunderstanding of the text. For, as a Chinese saying has it: ''If one is off an inch at the bow, then one will be off several feet at the target. '' Thus in place of the claim that, for the Daoist, nonbeing is superior to being, it would be best to claim that nothing takes precedence over some- thing. An alternative translation--ironically, with strong Marxist overtones-- would be: ''not having'' is superior to ''having. ''
The distinctive character of the you/wu problematic in the Daode jing allows for an interesting discussion of the presently topical postmodern critiques of
54 approaching the daode jing
reason. For one of the implications of the absence in that work of any notion of Being as existence per se is that there is no notion of Being as ontological ground and no need for a metaphysical contrast between Being and beings. There is no need to overcome the logocentrism of a language of presence grounded in ontological difference if no distinction between Being and beings, or beings and their ground, is urged by the classical Chinese language and its philosophical employment. A Chinese language of presence is a language of making present the item itself, not its essence.
Language that does not lead one to posit ontological difference between Being and beings, but only a difference between one being and another, sug- gests a decentered world whose centers and circumferences are always defined in an ad hoc manner. The mass of classical Chinese philosophical discourse, then, is in no need of deconstruction since the senses of you and wu within the Chinese sensibility do not lead to the creation of texts that could legitimately be targets of the deconstructor.
One may gain greater insight into this rather unusual sense of the being/ nonbeing relation in Chinese thought through an interpretation of the fa- mous first lines of the Daode jing:
The Way that can be spoken of is not the constant Way. The name that can be named is not the constant name. The nameless is the beginning of the ten-thousand things. 1
Nameless Dao is best construed here, not as ontological ground, but merely as the noncoherent sum of all possible orders. The natural cosmology of classical China does not entail a single-ordered cosmos, but invokes an understanding of a world constituted by myriad unique particulars: ''the ten thousand things. ''
An important implication of the you/wu relationship in Chinese intellec- tual culture is that the relevant contrast is not, as in the West, between the cosmological whatness of things and the ontological thatness of things; rather, it is a contrast between the cosmos as the sum of all orders and the world as construed from some particular perspective--that is, any particular one of the orders.
In the absence of a sense of Being as a common property or a relational structure, the world is not coherent in the sense that a single pattern or telos could be said to characterize its processes. It is not a whole, but many such wholes. It is not the superordinate One to which the Many reduce. Its order is not rational or logical, but aesthetic; that is, there is no transcending pattern determining the existence or efficacy of the order. The order is a consequence of the particulars comprising the totality of existing things.
the daode jing and comparative philosophy 55
This interpretation of being of the world makes of it a totality not in the sense of a single-ordered cosmos, but in the sense of the sum of all cosmo- logical orders. Any given order is an existing world that is construed from the perspective of a particular element within the totality. But, as a single world, it is a selective abstraction from the totality of possible orders that are presently not around. The being of this order is not ontological in a foundational sense, but ''cosmological'' in the sense that it concerns, not Being-Itself, but the ''beings'' of the world and their relational order. Such an abstracted, selected order cannot serve as fundament or ground. Thus, the Chinese sense of being entails the notion, rather striking from our Western perspective, that all differences are cosmological differences.
The Chinese understanding of the you/wu relationship has profound im- plications for the manner in which philosophic discourse is shaped throughout the Chinese tradition. Without recourse to the senses of ''Being'' associated with Western speculative philosophies, assumptions we take for granted as conditions for philosophizing are simply not present. The proper under- standing of ''being'' in the Chinese tradition helps us to account for the fact that there is no real ''metaphysical'' tradition in China if we mean by metaphysics anything like a universal science of first principles or a study of Being-Itself. In fact, within the strictly Chinese philosophical tradition there is little interest in asking about what makes something real or why things exist.
When we address distinctly cosmological issues--such as ''What kinds of things are there? '' or ''What are the basic categories that make up the world as we know it? ''--the situation is the same. Although it is true that Chinese thinkers, particularly the Daoists, ask about things, they do not ask about ca- tegories or kinds in any manner that would suggest that things have logical essences or constitute natural kinds. Because there is nothing like ''Being'' that shines through the beings of the world--because there are only the beings of the world--there is no effective impulse to handle cosmological issues by asking after the logos of the cosmos.
The principal reason Chinese thinkers are not apt to ask after the logos of the cosmos is that they lack a dominant concern for approaching what we term the ''cosmos'' as a single-ordered Whole. The term, often used in the Daode jing, that qualifies the Chinese understanding of what we term the ''cosmos'' is wan wu, ''the ten thousand things,'' or, as D. C. Lau often renders the term, ''the myriad creatures. '' Thus, ''the nameless is the beginning of the ten thousand things. The named is the mother of the ten thousand things. ''
The Chinese stress on locutions such as ''ten thousand things'' suggests the same insight we encountered in terms of our discussion of the you/wu relationship. Without a viable notion of Being as ground, there is no basis on
56 approaching the daode jing
which one can presume the existence of a single-ordered world, a cosmos. Thus the testimony of the Daode jing is that the world is to be seen as a plurality: a many, not a one. Such an understanding of the world precludes the no- tion of cosmos, insofar as that notion entails either a coherent, single-ordered world or a congeries of entities with essential features or essential modes of connection.
The Wu-forms of Daoism
One of the more fascinating aspects of the discussions of the Daode jing is the doctrine of wuwei, literally ''no-action. '' ''Do that which consists in taking no action, and order will prevail'' (3). ''The Way never acts yet nothing is left undone'' (37). Sentiments such as these express a doctrine of the art of rulership in which the ''the best of rulers is but a shadowy presence to his subjects'' (17). But from the perspective of the comparative philosopher, it is interesting to note that it is not only Western understandings of ''action'' that are pro- blematized by the Daode jing, but the allied notions of knowledge and desire also receive a ''reversed'' interpretation in the forms of wuzhi (''no knowledge'') and wuyu (''no desire'').
The reason this is especially interesting with respect to Chinese/Western comparisons is that the understandings of knowing, acting, and desiring in the Western tradition have been strongly influenced by the tripartite model of the psyche deriving from Plato and perpetuated subsequently in various forms in the Western tradition. Contrasting understandings of the modalities of knowledge, action, and desire in the Daode jing with the manner in which they are construed in the philosophical traditions influenced by the Platonic psyche can provide a host of productive insights into the differences of Chinese and Western cultures.
The first thing to say about the general approach to philosophical anthro- pology in the West is that dominant theories of the self are shaped in accor- dance with a model of personality in which the self is seen as internally conflicted, that is, at war with itself. In Plato, the primary conflict is between reason and the passionate and volitional elements of the soul. This conflict is ramified with the confluence of Hebraic and Hellenic sensibilities, coming to be expressed in the words of St. Paul: ''The good that I would do, I do not do; the evil that I would not do, that I do. '' This understanding of the soul in conflict receives a famous modern interpretation with Hume's claim that ''reason al- ways shall be a slave to the passions. '' The Humean interpretation is in turn reflected in the traditional conception of Freud's personality theory as based on the conflictual dynamics of id, ego, and superego.
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The tripartite model of the self undergirds the institutionalization of the division between theory and practice that has characterized so much of our intellectual culture; it has influenced, for example, the search for scientific objectivity which has urged a separation of reason and the passions. In addi- tion, conflict between the dynamics of power and justice in political culture is a consequence of writing large the tensions between volitional and rational components of the soul.
One can readily see from this that making comparisons between Chinese and Western understandings of knowledge, action, and desire might lead to extremely important insights into these contrasting cultures. The general les- son is that it is of some benefit to be aware of the uncommon assumptions on this issue of ''the soul at war. '' Otherwise, we shall surely misconstrue Chinese understandings of the self and the relevance of those understandings to larger social and cultural contexts.
When we turn to the Daode jing to discover Daoist contributions to these issues, we see that there are terms such as zhi, wei, and yu that initially seem to correlate rather closely with what we call knowing, acting, and desiring. But it is important to realize that the understanding of knowledge, action, and desire found in the Daode jing is by no means based on a model of the self that presumes an internal struggle of reason against the obstreperous passions or will. The Daoists do not ''slice the pie,'' as is done in the West; effectively, there are no faculties of knowing, doing, and feeling that can be distinguished one from the other, and there is no division between the modalities of reason on the one hand and appetite and will on the other.
If the Daoist self is not divided in the manner of the Western model of the tripartite soul, how are we to account for these three modalities? The wu-forms must be thought of simply as activities that establish the deferential relations that give rise to the self at any given moment. They are not faculties; they form no coherent psyche.
In discussing the wu-forms of Daoism it is essential that we call attention to the absence of a mind/body dualism in classical Chinese thought. It is this dualism, after all, that determines the principal conflict within the self between reason and the affective and volitional components.
In the absence of a mind/body dichotomy in Daoist understandings of the self, the basis for the conflictual dynamics of the psyche is not present. Further, because the distinctions among the affective, volitional, and rational compo- nents are not made in terms of a unified model of the self, the idea of a self at war with itself doesn't make much sense to the Chinese.
The best way of understanding the Daoist self is as a function of its rela- tions with its world shaped by wuzhi, wuwei, and wuyou. To see this in the most
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productive manner, however, it is necessary to provide interpretations of the wu-forms that take account of the philosophical significance of the terms. Doing so has led me to translate these terms in the following manner: I render wuwei as ''nonassertive action,'' wuzhi as ''unprincipled knowing,'' and wuyu as ''objectless desire. ''
Wuwei, often translated as ''no action'' or ''nonaction,'' involves the ab- sence of any action that interferes with the particularity of those things within one's field of influence. Actions untainted by stored knowledge or ingrained habits are unmediated, unstructured, unprincipled, and spontaneous. As such, they are consequences of deferential responses to the item or event in accordance with which, or in relation to which, one is acting. They are non- assertive actions.
It would be a mistake to interpret the modes of disposition named by the wu-forms as passive. The deferential activities underlying these modes are shaped by the intrinsic excellences of those things calling forth deference. Deference is deference to recognized excellence. The assumption must be that the Daoist sage sees beneath the layers of artifice that mask the naturalness of persons and things and responds to the excellence so advertised. Further, deference is a two-way street. The excellence of the realized Daoist calls forth deference from others. The wu-forms operate within a context of yielding and being yielded to. The model of the sage-ruler in the Daode jing is described in terms of wuwei. Thus the sage says, ''I am non-assertive [wuwei] and the people are transformed of themselves'' (57). Further, the sage-ruler ''constantly causes the people to seek 'unprincipled knowing' [wuzhi] and to be objectless in their desires [wuyu]. In simply acting non-assertively [wuwei], everything is properly ordered'' (3).
An interesting illustration of wuwei is found in the ''push-hands'' (duishou) exercise associated with the Chinese exercise form known as taijiquan. Two individuals facing one another perform various circular movements of the arms while maintaining minimal hand contact. The movement of each individual mirrors that of the other. Wuwei is realized when the movements of each are sensed, by both parties, to be uninitiated and effortless. I often attempt to demonstrate the notion of wuwei by leading my students in a brief set of ''push- hands'' exercises.
Wuzhi, as ''no-knowledge,'' means the absence of a certain kind of knowledge, the sort dependent on ontological presence. Knowledge grounded in a denial of ontological presence involves the sort of acosmotic thinking that does not presuppose a single-ordered world and its intellectual accoutre- ments. It is, therefore, unprincipled knowing. Such knowing does not appeal
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to rules or principles determining the existence, meaning, or activity of a phenomenon. Wuzhi provides one with a sense of the particularity of a thing rather than what that thing is as a member of a class or an instance of a concept.
Wuzhi, or ''knowing without principles,'' is tacit and, though inexpress- ible in literal terms, may be communicated though parabolic and imagistic language. The story alluded to at the very outset of this essay concerning the Confucian critic's challenge to Laozi's attempting to speak of the Way that rightfully cannot be spoken of indicates that he has missed the fact that one must approach parabolic language through wuzhi--that is, through a refusal to shape one's understanding by appeal to categories and principles of that which is to be known. Such parabolic language is distinctive in an acosmotic context since metaphor and imagery do not presuppose a literal ground. The parabolic language of the Daode jing is, from the beginning, a language of difference and particularity. It is this language that permits the communi- cation of the results of wuzhi.
The best characterization of the term wuyu is ''objectless desire. '' Since neither unprincipled knowing nor nonassertive action can in the strict sense objectify a world or any element in it, the desiring associated with the Daoist sensibility is objectless. Thus, wuyu, rather than involving the cessation of desire through possession and consummation, represents the achievement of deferential desire. Desire based on a mirroring understanding (wuzhi) and a nonassertive relationship (wuwei) is not shaped by the need to own, control, or consume, but simply to celebrate and to enjoy.
The Daoist problematic does not concern what is desired but the manner of the desiring. Objectless desire always allows for letting be and letting go. Enjoyment for the Daoist is realized not in spite of the fact that one might lose what is desired, but because of this fact. The world is a complex set of pro- cesses of transformation, never at rest. In Plato, the desire for knowledge (eros) is the only thing that can define both embodied and disembodied ex- istence; it is the only desire that can be permanent, eternal. In Daoism, transient desire is the only desire that lets things be, that does not construe the world in a certain manner, that does not seek to render static a world of changing things.
The mirroring activity associated with the Daoist wu-forms is a form of activity that allows things to be themselves both in their transitoriness and their particularity. It is the things themselves as individual events and pro- cesses, and the orders construed from their particular perspectives, that are reflected in the mirroring process.
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Summary
It has been my experience that the discussion of the Daode jing in an under- graduate class is remarkably beneficial in helping students gain insights into these and many other ''uncommon assumptions'' that highlight differences between Chinese and Western philosophical perspectives. By juxtaposing them in the way I've described, aspects of each tradition become clearer. Once stu- dents who have already been introduced to Western philosophy come to un- derstand the cosmology implicit in the Daode jing, they can more easily recognize how Western cosmologies and ontologies are strategic choices rather than revelations of things as they are. At the same time, those students who are grappling with Chinese texts like the Daode jing can see its distinctiveness more clearly once they contrast it with Western ontological choices.
In closing I should note that the above notwithstanding, I certainly do recognize that the philosophical import of this work by no means exhausts its significance. Its poetic value, for example, is clearly as significant as its philosophical worth. Nonetheless, as a comparative philosopher of culture I have found the Daode jing--more than any other single work--to be well-nigh indispensable as an introduction to Chinese and Western thought.
note
1. All citations are from Tao Te Ching, trans. by D. C. Lau (New York: Penguin Books, 1963).
? Mysticism In the Daode Jing Gary D. DeAngelis
Years ago, at another college, as I began a section of an Asian reli- gions course on Daoism, one of my students stood up and an- nounced rather irreverently that ''talking about the Dao is total bullshit and a waste of f----ing time. '' He then proceeded to pack up his things and march out of the classroom, heading off, I pre- sumed, into the existential void. While students sat in stunned dis- belief I took this rather opportune moment to inform them that, though undoubtedly apocryphal, nearly 2,500 years ago the great sage Laozi enacted this exact same performance, albeit a bit more eloquently, at the Western Gate of China, renouncing both society and philosophical speculation as hopeless. Unlike the legendary Laozi, this student did return at the next class session, and we went on to explore and, in fact, talk about conceptions of the Dao.
That particular performance was so effective in jump-starting that section of the course on Daoism that, in subsequent semes- ters, I've considered paying a student to repeat it with, I hoped, the same effect. I have refrained from following through on such a plan, not wanting to violate the Daoist call for spontaneity, but I have often recounted that story to new students; though undoubtedly
not having the same impact as the original performance, they gen- erally have found it quite amusing. Having taught for over thirty years I must admit to being rather shameless about reusing stories or jokes that students still find amusing.
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During my own career as a smug undergraduate, in reading the Daode jing for the first time I was struck by the fact that this supposed great Chinese sage claimed that one can never really define or even discuss the Dao, and yet he did discuss it. While others were enthralled by Laozi I was convinced (like my misinformed student) that I alone had unmasked this itinerant guru for the obvious charlatan that he was. Couldn't anyone see that after that classic opening refrain he would have been extremely wise to abide by his own maxim that ''those who know don't say and those who don't know say''--a refrain that I continue to caution students against using on exams.
Now, considerably older and perhaps a bit wiser, I have come to appreciate the insight of the many Laozis of the Daode jing. The initial caveat in the opening lines is followed by subtle hints, suggestions, whispers, and allusions as to the nature of the Dao, which do provide glimpses for our rational mind to understand something about the Dao. If, in fact, the Dao is everything (as is claimed), it is, in part, rational mind. However, it is also true that these spec- ulative glimpses are things about the Dao. To truly know the Dao it is strongly implied that one must go beyond intellect to intuition, where the knower, in a sense, becomes the known, that is, where one becomes the Dao.
What I would like to delineate in this essay is how I have explored and used the Daode jing as a mystical text over the years, primarily in the context of a course called ''Comparative Mysticism,'' and how that particular perspective has helped both my students and me to better understand the nature, meaning, and basic principles of the Daode jing in whatever context it may be used. Unlike some of the other contributors to this volume, I am not a specialist in Chinese religions. My field is the comparative study of religions with a focus on Asian religions and a specific interest in sacred space, pilgrimage, and ritual. Al- though I have done fieldwork in China I do not read classical Chinese. So my use of the Daode jing has been dependent on the use of translations, which are identified at a later point in the essay.
I have used the Daode jing for the past twenty-six years, for the most part at small undergraduate colleges, in such courses as ''Asian Religions,'' ''Religions of China and Japan,'' and ''Comparative Mysticism. '' My use of the text has changed over that time as both my understanding of it and my own scholarly interests have changed. In spite of the fact that I've been using this text solely with undergraduates and, for the most part, at the introductory level (pre- supposing little or no background in Chinese religions or culture), I am still committed to taking a scholarly approach, making them aware of both the complexity of this text and the necessity and value of examining it within its historical and cultural context. I have resisted the temptation and, at times, desire of students to oversimplify the text, take it out of context, and Westernize
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and romanticize it into what Norm Girardot refers to as ''Pooh Bear Daoism. '' However, the challenge we continue to face, as both scholars and teachers of undergraduates, is how to walk that very fine line between maintaining the integrity of the text while effectively communicating its meaning to an audience of general readers.
I would agree wholeheartedly with numerous China scholars that the Daode jing reflects a particular school (used loosely) of thought, somewhat prevalent in fourth-century b. c. e. China, and that in order to make an attempt to understand the intended meaning of this text it is essential to understand not only Chinese culture and the Chinese religious worldview but also the cultural, religious, and political milieu of the late Zhou period. In addition, it would also be beneficial to have a sense of who was compiling this text and for whom it was being written. I think that this is true in reading any text from any culture. In a sense, the Daode jing reflects its period and culture and can provide us with a window into understanding classical China and perhaps something of the Chinese religious worldview as it has evolved over the past 2,500 years. It is important to note that although this is obviously a classical text, it continues to be widely read in China today.
There is undoubtedly inherent value in studying other cultures and worldviews in and of themselves. I would also argue that there is intrinsic value in discovering particular truths or insights in other cultures which may have a timeless and universal value and may help us to make sense out of life and understand something about the nature of our being and our place in the cosmos. Indeed, there is the danger of Westernizing a text like the Daode jing in order to make the foreign and exotic familiar and comfortable. I would also say, however, that, as scholars and teachers, we must be equally vigilant against being ruled by cultural relativism. Indeed, we want our students to have a true understanding of the Chinese worldview, but that does not mean that a classical text like the Daode jing does not contain basic principles that may inspire them in some ways, enlighten them in others, or may even be applied to their lives. They can be good scholars but also moved by what they discover without going native or surrendering their objectivity. They may be from a different culture and be shaped by different circumstances and forces, but ultimately they are of the same species and have the capacity to respond to certain universal truths. Why are the Japanese so enthralled with Shakespeare and the Chinese with Beethoven?
I am suggesting two distinct orientations or goals in interpreting and understanding the Daode jing: what it meant originally in its historical context and what it means to us now. However, these goals, as Michael LaFargue suggests, ''are not by any means exclusive, and it is possible to combine them. ''1
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The overwhelming majority of us using this text are not preparing students to become China scholars nor to fulfill some spiritual void in their lives. I would reaffirm, however, that we do have a scholarly obligation to use the text as honestly and truthfully as possible to capture its original meaning or intent, which, admittedly, will also be an interpretation based on what sources we choose. Our responsibility is to choose the sources wisely and judiciously and to provide a legitimate context for exploration.
Once again, what I would like to focus on is my use of the Daode jing as a mystical text and why I have used it this way. The particular course that I will be focusing on is called ''Comparative Mysticism,'' which I have taught in nu- merous incarnations over the past twenty years. Initially, this course focused on the comparative study of the mystical dimensions, schools, beliefs, and prac- tices in an assortment of different religious traditions. In its early incarnation the course was called ''Saints and Mystics'' and became affectionately known around campus as S&M. As my own work became more interdisciplinary and multidisciplinary over the years that shift was also reflected in the changing focus of this course. In its present incarnation it examines mysticism from philosophical, anthropological, psychological, religious, and scientific per- spectives. I may vary the types of religious mysticism we look at, but more often than not it has been Sufism (Islamic mysticism) and Chinese mysticism (Daoism). I make it quite clear to students, through discussion and course readings, that there is a rich and complex history to both Islamic and Chinese mysticism and that while neither Ibn' Attar's Conference of the Birds nor the Daode jing are fully representative of either tradition, they do embody some basic principles from each.
For the purposes of this essay I am using the term mysticism to mean religious mysticism, but even then in a fairly general and inclusive way. While the term mysticism is used to cover a broad range of experiences among fairly diverse traditions, there has been general agreement among scholars of mys- ticism and phenomenologists of religion as to the nature of mystical experience and what characterizes mystical states. 2 The term generally covers a wide range of spiritual and religious experience in which one directly experiences that which is perceived to be ultimately real, for example, the transcendent, the sacred, the holy, the divine. This direct experience, which is usually identified as a state of union or oneness, is one that intuitively imparts knowledge of ultimate reality by virtue of the knower becoming the known.
