Qiang is intelli- gent; it recognizes its limits and is capable of
accepting
its own weakness.
Teaching-the-Daode-Jing
This sense of elusive- ness is captured for them in their reading of the fourth-century c.
e.
poet T'ao Ch'ien:
I gather chrysanthemums at the eastern hedgerow And silently gaze at the southern mountains.
The mountain air is beautiful in the sunset,
And the birds flocking together return home Among all of these things is a real meaning,
Yet when I try to express it, I become lost in ''no words. ''8
This particular poem usually strikes certain chords, stimulating them to draw analogies from experiences, particularly spiritual experiences, in their own lives, for instance, about love, nature, and the sacred. Reflection on these per- sonal experiences allows them to bring the notion of ineffability more clearly into focus. At the same time they begin to appreciate the poetic structure and power of the Daode jing, that is, the value of symbolic language: metaphor, suggestiveness, images, ambiguity. This is a text that can't just be read and taken literally; it must be listened to, heard, and felt. Though we may not be able to fully apprehend the Dao through words or concepts, words can be used symbolically to suggest what cannot be stated and to engage the reader at a more existential or intuitive level. This experience begins to move them in the direction of intuition as a possible way of knowing or coming closer to the Dao.
After reading the Daode jing and the secondary sources we begin to discuss the Daoist notion of not thinking, in a rational sense, as a way of knowing and the Daoist fondness for paradox. To stimulate consideration and discussion of
70 approaching the daode jing
the value of not thinking I have them read a rather humorous piece, called ''The Professor,'' which alludes to the limitations of thinking as we generally con- ceive it. The following excerpt captures its flavor:
A few years ago I used to tell myself that I wanted to marry a cowboy. Why shouldn't an English professor say this to herself--living alone, fascinated by a brown landscape, spotting a cowboy in a pickup truck sometimes in her rearview mirror as she drives on the broad high- ways of the West Coast? In fact, I realize I would still like to marry a cowboy, though by now I'm living in the East and married already to someone who is not a cowboy . . .
More important than the clothes a cowboy wore, and the way he wore them, was the fact that a cowboy probably wouldn't know much more than he had to. He would think about his work, and about his family, if he had one, and about having a good time, and not much else. I was tired of so much thinking, which was what I did most in those days. I did other things, but I went on thinking while I did them. I might feel something but I would think about what I was feeling at the same time. I even had to think about what I was thinking and wonder why I was thinking it. When I had the idea of marrying a cowboy I imagined that maybe a cowboy would help me stop thinking so much. 9
This piece may not be heavily philosophical, but it does get them to consider how they generally attempt to know something, that is, to think about it, conceptualize it, and define it. When we discuss spiritual states or religious experience, however, they begin to realize the limits of rational and conceptual thinking and that there are additional powerful and profound ways of knowing at our disposal. Albert Einstein confessed, late in his life, that his deepest understanding of the universe did not come from his rational thought process but from his intuitive awareness.
As we continue to wrestle with the notion of the Dao being the One, students further appreciate the limitations of rational thought or thinking about the Dao as a process that is inherently dualistic. The mind objectifies the Dao by thinking about it, and thus the Dao loses its essential wholeness or oneness. Of course, if the Dao is everything, then it is also rational mind and subsequently can be apprehended, at least in part, by our rational thought processes. At this point they generally begin to realize, more fully, that indeed there are things that they have come to know in their lives intuitively as a result of direct experience, where there has been a sense of becoming the other, that is, the knower becoming the known. It is not necessary for them to become
mysticism in the daode jing 71
aware of the fact that they are the Dao, that is, have had a mystical experience, for them to come to the aforementioned realization. In a sense, their wrestling with this notion is like Zen koan practice, where the rational mind begins to sense its limitations. This raises some of the larger epistemological issues of how we come to know and the value of intuition.
One of the primary issues uncovered at this point, that they are quite familiar with in their study of mysticism and which is an essential part of the Daode jing, is the need to overcome the phenomenal self to acquire com- plete knowledge of the Dao. One needs to attain a state of selflessness and become the Dao. As Chang Chung-yuan suggests, ''The awareness of the identification and inter-penetration of self and non-self is the key that unlocks the mystery of the Dao. ''10 This need to overcome the limitations and restric- tions of the ego is a persistent theme in mysticism universally. It is a theme that forces students to deal directly with notions of self and the relationship of self to some larger, and in this case ultimate, reality. In reading the Daode jing from any perspective, this is an issue that cannot be avoided. Once again, the larger epistemological issue comes to the fore: How does one come to know the Dao? As Livia Kohn points out, the main obstacles to truly knowing the Dao ''are the senses and the intellect, which continuously boost a separate notion of ego through emotions and desires, classifications and conscious knowledge. ''11
At this point in our study students begin to understand that while the Daode jing presents them with a mystical vision of the Cosmos, and their place in it, it remains quite subtle and elusive regarding the path to this vision. In the realization of this mystical vision, one is directed to become the Dao, to be reunited, to return to the root from which one has come: ''The thousands of things all around are active--I give my attention to Turning Back. Things growing wild as weeds, all turn back to the Root. ''12 This idea of returning becomes an additional theme in the Daode jing that generally proves to be a rich and fruitful area of exploration and access for students. We explore this notion of returning to the source by focusing on the persistent universal human psy- chological urge to return to that from which we've come: God, the void, the universe, nature. As they contemplate what it means to return to the Dao this generally gets played out, by analogy, in a nostalgic longing to return to childhood, their hometown, or some spot in nature that they have been at- tracted to. They realize that these attempts to fulfill this urge of returning are ultimately unsatisfying because what they seek to return to is no longer the same--things change. They are not a return to the unchanging, the familiar, the source, the Dao.
Admittedly, the Daode jing, while offering some general guidelines to finding or becoming the Dao, is for the most part devoid of practical instructions.
72 approaching the daode jing
Certainly the mystic path, as it is generally defined, can be found within the threads woven through this elusive text, from the necessity to overcome self and ego and the senses to ultimately attaining a state of union with the One. A further exploration of the later Daoist mystical sects points us toward more specific techniques that were, and continue to be, employed as methods to acquire what the Daode jing is calling for: becoming the Dao.
As part of the course we do have several sessions with a Qi Gong master and Daoist meditation instructor. The intent here is not to experience oneness with the Dao but to give students a sense of how one actually goes beyond intellect and abstract thinking to know the Dao. It is essential that they come to realize that in this pursuit of the Dao one must use one's whole being, that the body is also capable of knowing and experiencing this oneness, and that in the union of mind, body, and spirit is where the Dao lies.
Once again, I want to be clear that the mystic perspective is not the way to understand the Daode jing, but it is one way and, potentially, a very fruitful way. I am also fully aware of the reductionist argument from scholars like Steven Katz. However, being sensitive to the dangers of typologies--mystical vision, path, experience, states, and so on--I would still argue that if used prudently and flexibly they do have value. Does the Daode jing provide a mystical vision of the Cosmos and our place in it? I think so. I tend to agree with the Laozi bianhua jing (Scripture of the Transformations of Laozi) as interpreted by Livia Kohn, which describes
a cosmological scheme . . . where the philosopher is no longer simply a human being; the Dao is no longer only a philosophical concept referring to the organic, inherent order of the world. In the merg- ing of both, philosopher and Dao, the cosmicization of humanity coincides with the humanization of the Universe. This coincidence, then, forms the mythological paradigm for the individual Daoist's aspirations to mystical oneness as well as for the communal practice of the Dao. 13
By working through the text with an understanding of mysticism and what characterizes mystical states, students are able to reach these insights and conclusions by themselves. These qualities of oneness, intuition, selflessness, ineffability, and timelessness, so characteristic of mystical experience and philosophy, provide access into the meaning and power of the Daode jing and an appreciation of some of its claims and insights. These are not always easy concepts to deal with, but, along with an understanding of context, cultural and historical milieux, linguistic analysis, and so on, they can help us with meaning and understanding. I would argue, however, that if the mystical perspective is
mysticism in the daode jing 73
not employed, we are left with a rather lifeless and static philosophical tome representing something about a culture long gone.
It is important that we don't make the Daode jing what we want it to be. From my own experience in China, the Daode jing is still a widely read text that is vibrant, dynamic, and meaningful and continues to impact people's lives in a variety of ways. In part, the vital dynamic quality of the Daode jing can be understood by investigating and discovering the mystical dimension of this text, which provides access to what I've heard Michael LaFargue describe as ''historical meanings for them and contemporary meanings for us. ''
notes
1. Michael LaFargue, ''Recovering the Tao-te-ching's Original Meaning: Some Remarks on Historical Hermeneutics,'' in Lao-tzu and the Tao-te-ching, ed. Livia Kohn and Michael LaFargue (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1998), 255.
2. Foramoredetailedexplicationofmysticism,mysticalexperience,characteristics of mystical states, and the mystic path, consult Robert Elwood, Mysticism and Religion (Englewood Cliffs, N. J. : Prentice-Hall, 1980); F. C. Happold, Mysticism: A Study and an Anthology (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1980); William James, The Varieties of Religious Experience (Cambridge, Mass. : Harvard University Press, 1985); Richard Woods, Un- derstanding Mysticism (Garden City, N. Y. : Image Books, 1980); Steven Katz, ed. , Mysticism and Philosophical Analysis (New York: Oxford University Press, 1978); Frits Staal, Ex- ploring Mysticism: A Methodological Essay (Berkeley: University of California Press).
3. Ninian Smart, ''Understanding Religious Experience,'' in Katz. Mysticism and Philosophical Analysis, 13.
4. Harold Roth, ''The Laozi in the Context of Early Daoist Mystical Praxis,'' in Religious and Philosophical Aspects of the Laozi, ed. Mark Csikszentmihalyi and Philip J. Ivanhoe (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1999), 59-96; Livia Kohn, Early Chinese Mysticism: Philosophy and Soteriology in the Taoist Tradition. (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1992).
5. Kohn, Early Chinese Mysticism, 44- 45.
6. Erich Neumann, ''Mystical Man,'' in The Mystic Vision: Papers from the Eranos Yearbooks, vol. 6, Bolingen Series, (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1968), 375- 415.
7. Robert G. Henricks, Lao-Tzu Te-Tao-Ching: A New Translation Based on the Recently Discovered Ma-wang-tui Texts (New York: Ballantine Books, 1989), 53.
8. Chang Chung-yuan, Creativity and Taoism: A Study of Chinese Philosophy, Art and Poetry (New York: Harper & Row, 1970), 53.
9. Lydia Davis, ''The Professor,'' Harpers', February 1992, 56-59.
10. Chang Chung-yuan, Creativity and Taoism, 20.
11. Kohn, Early Chinese Mysticism, 8.
12. Michael LaFargue, The Tao of the Tao Te Ching (Albany: State University
of New York Press, 1992), 62.
13. Kohn, Early Chinese Mysticism, 44- 45.
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? The Daode Jing in Practice Eva Wong
The goal of this chapter is to present the teachings of the Daode jing from the perspective of practice. To the practitioner of the Daoist arts, the texts of Daoism are not just objects of intellectual inquiry but guidelines for practice. Almost all the texts of the Daoist canon (Daozang) were written by practitioners for practitioners. In the Daoist tradition, study and practice are inseparable: to study is to practice and to practice is to study. Understanding a text can help us practice its teachings; practicing its teachings can help us understand its meanings.
The Daode jing contains a wealth of knowledge and wisdom on subject matters as diverse as statecraft and politics, the nature of reality (the Dao), sagehood, and the arts of cultivating health and longevity. While much has been written about the Daode jing's views on the first three topics, far less attention has been devoted to its approach on cultivating life. In this essay I highlight this aspect of the Daode jing's teachings, discuss how understanding a text can help us practice its teachings, and show how practice can help us decipher meanings in a text.
The Art of Understanding a Text
Daoist texts, like most works from spiritual traditions, can be read and interpreted at multiple levels. The art of interpreting and
76 approaching the daode jing
deciphering hidden meanings in a text is called hermeneutics. It recognizes that a text has many levels of meaning and that the meaning carried in the semantics of the text is only its surface meaning. A deeper level of meaning is expressed in how the text was written, not just what was written. Even deeper levels of meaning are carried in the ''intention'' of a text, whose meaning can be grasped only if we listen to the language of the text and not just read its ''words. '' To listen to a text, one needs to suspend judgment, quiet the critical mind, and become receptive to it. If we are willing to listen to and learn from a text, the text will open to us a world of meaning that is inaccessible to our analytical mind.
Many Daoist texts were written with the intention to encode several levels of meaning. The exoteric levels of meaning are carried in the superficial layers of the text, and the esoteric meanings are encoded in the deeper layers. Exoteric meaning can be grasped by the common or even casual reader, but esoteric meaning is meant for those initiated into the practice.
In the Daoist tradition, ''safety'' more than anything else was the moti- vation behind encoding multiple levels of meaning into a text. Some tech- niques are dangerous if they are practiced unsupervised or if the practitioner does not have the sufficient spiritual foundation. Most of the texts of Daoist internal alchemy written between the third and thirteenth centuries fall into this category.
Some Daoist texts, however, were not written with the ''intention'' of hiding secret meanings. But as Daoism became more a discipline of study than a practice, the number of practitioners dwindled, and meanings that were once known among a large community of practitioners became ''hidden'' or lost. I think this is why certain sections of the Daode jing (especially the parts concerned with the arts of health and longevity) have become esoteric. I do not believe that these sections of the text contain dangerous knowledge; it is more likely that they contain lost knowledge.
It is known that the Daode jing was written by more than one person. Its contents clearly fall into four separate categories: statecraft and politics, the nature of reality (the Dao), sagehood, and the arts of health and longevity. The parts of the text concerned with statecraft and politics are relatively easy to understand. The sections on the nature of the Dao contain more cryptic references. This is probably because anything that we can say about the Dao can only be indirect: ''The way that can be spoken of is not the unchanging Way'' (chapter 1). The parts of the text concerned with sagehood are easily decipherable if we listen to them with a receptive mind; most of them offer practical advice on daily living. The portions of the text that deal with the arts of health and longevity are considered to be the most esoteric and the most
difficult to understand. Later in the chapter, I show that these esoteric pas- sages of the Daode jing can easily be deciphered by ''practice''.
Deciphering the Meaning of a Text with Practice
From the hermeneutical point of view, the subsurface semantics (and prag- matics) of a text can be uncovered by deconstruction, but hidden meanings can be revealed only by listening to the language of a text. To these two methods of deciphering a text I would like to add the use of ''practice''. ''Practice'' can be a powerful tool for recovering meanings that cannot be accessed by semantics or pragmatics or by listening to the language. Listening to the Daode jing can help us understand its teachings, but practice can help us to recover its lost meanings.
Understanding the Daode Jing from the Perspective of Practice
The goal of Daoist practice is to maintain a healthy body and a clear mind, to be free from stress and anxiety, and to live a contented and long life. To this end, Daoists advocate cultivating the mind by emptying it of desire, cultivating the body by filling it with life energy, and adopting a lifestyle of simplicity and quietude. We shall consider the Daode jing's teachings on each of these topics in turn.
The Daode jing on Cultivating the Mind
First we shall examine the Daode jing's teachings on cultivating the mind by listening to the language of the text.
According to the Daode jing, desire is the cause of poor health, anxiety, mental anguish, and the inability to live a happy and contented life. Desire is attachment. The desire for material things comes from attachment to objects or things in the world; the desire to be important, to be recognized, to achieve, and to be in control comes from attachment to the self.
Anxiety arises as a result of attachment to material things. We are anxious to get what we don't have and anxious about losing what we have. Desire can blind us to the distinction between needs and wants. Consequently, many people end up spending more time and effort accumulating possessions than enjoying them. And the more possessions they have, the more afraid they are of losing them. The Daode jing (chapter 44) says, ''If you have a lot of
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78 approaching the daode jing
desire, you will probably be extravagant. The more you hoard, the more you will lose. ''
Attachment to material things can also affect the functioning of the senses. Instead of simply being things in the world, objects become attractive or unattractive (to the eyes), pleasant or unpleasant (to the ears), and pleasing or unpleasing (to the palate). When the senses become overstimulated, they become dull. When they become dull, they cease to function properly, and when they stop functioning, we become confused and disoriented. Moreover, if the senses are too preoccupied with objects of desire, they can no longer warn us of impending dangers. The Daode jing (chapter 12) says:
The five colors can confuse your sight.
The five sounds can dull your hearing.
The five flavors can injure your sense of taste.
Racing and hunting can drive you mad.
Material goods that are hard to get will hinder your movement.
Excessive excitement can be detrimental to health. Activities that pump up the adrenaline (such as racing and hunting) may give us a temporary ''high'', but since excitement cannot last forever, a ''high'' is always followed by a ''low''. This cyclical swing between excitement and the return to normal levels of stimulation is harmful to both physical and mental health because it does not give the mind and the body sufficient time to adjust to two extreme states of functioning.
Desire is not just directed toward material things. We can also desire immaterial things, such as knowledge, fame, achievement, and power. Ac- cording to the Daode jing, desire for knowledge can make thinking rigid and one-sided. This is because the pursuit of knowledge requires the mind to be oriented toward objects in the world, whether things, people, or ideas. If we place too much emphasis on knowing about the object-world, we will not be able to look inward and learn about ourselves. Chapter 33 of the Daode jing says:
To understand others is to be clever.
To understand yourself is to be enlightened. You can use force to conquer others.
But you will need strength to conquer yourself.
Let us listen to the language in this passage more closely. First, the text con- trasts ''clever'' (zhi) with ''enlightened'' (ming) to distinguish object-knowledge, which is associated with cleverness, from self-knowledge, which is associated with enlightenment. In Chinese, the word for cleverness, ''zhi,'' has connota- tions of ''know-how'' and ''knowledge gained by trickery. '' In fact, zhi is used
often with ''qu,'' as in zhiqu to mean using trickery and underhandedness to win. On the other hand, enlightenment is ''ming,'' which has the connotation of brightness. Thus, while cleverness can give us small gains and temporary knowledge, it is enlightenment (or self-knowledge) that can illuminate and guide us in our daily lives.
Second, the text contrasts ''force'' (li) with ''strength'' (qiang). ''Li'' has the connotation of brute force. Li has no intelligence and is incapable of admitting failure; it is like a bulldozer crashing against a wall. If the wall is weak, brute force will break it, but if the wall is strong, brute force will be ineffective. On the other hand, qiang has the connotation of inner strength.
Qiang is intelli- gent; it recognizes its limits and is capable of accepting its own weakness. Thus, while force can give us temporary control of a situation, it is strength that allows us to evaluate the external situation, understand ourselves, and act accordingly.
A more subtle form of desire is the desire for self-importance. The desire for self-importance is associated with the desire to achieve and to be recog- nized. According to the Daode jing, the notion of ''achievement'' is created by us so that we can give importance to our actions. When insects procreate, flowers bloom, and water nourishes the soil, they do not consider their ac- tions as ''achievements''. In contrast, humanity has transformed ''action'' into ''achievement'', and in doing so, we have given ourselves a false sense of self- respect as well as distanced ourselves from the natural way of things. Of self- importance, the Daode jing (chapter 24) says:
Those who boast are not rooted.
Those who inflate themselves will get nowhere.
Those who display themselves do not shine.
Those who publicize their actions accomplish nothing. Those who praise themselves do not last long.
The words ''boast,'' ''inflate,'' ''display,'' ''publicize,'' and ''praise'' describe dif- ferent ways of distorting reality. To boast is to distort by adding personal opin- ions: the choice to emphasize particular actions is also the choice to omit others. To inflate is to distort by making something appear more important than it really is. To display is to distort by making one thing more prominent than others. To publicize is to distort by making one thing more obvious than others: the choice to make one thing known is also the choice to render certain things unknown. Finally, to praise is to distort by giving a favorable opinion: to praise oneself is to boast behind a veil of modesty.
The desire to achieve often leads people to do heroic and stupid things that can hurt or kill them. The Daode jing (chapter 73) says, ''If you are brave
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80 approaching the daode jing
and daring, you'll be killed. However, if you are brave and not daring, you'll survive. ''
Here the words ''brave'' (yong) and ''daring'' (gan) are used jointly to define the meaning of courage. The contrast is not between ''brave'' and ''daring,'' but between ''brave and daring'' and ''brave and not daring. '' ''Yong'' is a state of mind, and ''gan'' is a display of courage. Thus, to be ''brave and daring'' is to act like a hero with reckless disregard for consequences. We can think of gan as dumb courage. To be ''brave and not daring'' is to take the appropriate and necessary action after assessing the situation.
People who are brave and daring will usually find it hard to yield, because for them, to yield is to be cowardly. Thus, they would rather forfeit their lives than retreat. However, people who are brave and not daring will know when to yield, and in yielding, they will survive.
The desire to be in control makes people want to interfere, believing that they can make things happen or not happen. However, since we cannot control everything, to believe that we are in control only gives us a false sense of security, a security that is shattered when things do not turn out the way we expect them to. Thus, if we believe that we are in control, we will likely be sad, frustrated, irritated, and disappointed if things go wrong. However, if we accept that there are certain things that we cannot control, we will be better prepared when situations turn aversive.
Sometimes we can actually make things worse by trying to interfere and make them happen. Chapter 64 of the Daode jing says:
Those who act on it will ruin it. Those who hold on to it will lose it. The sage does not act upon things, Therefore he does not ruin them. He does not hold on to things, Therefore he does not lose them.
In this passage we find the famous contrast between ''action'' (wei) and ''non- action'' (wuwei). ''Wei'' is the act of interfering. By acting upon something, we modify and transform it. On the other hand, wuwei is the act of not-interfering. By not-acting on something, we let it run its natural course and do not interfere with its natural tendencies. Wuwei does not mean ''doing nothing''; rather, it means acting appropriately according to the natural way of things. If wuwei had meant doing nothing, then the text would have said ''those who act,'' not ''those who act on it. '' The Daode jing does not teach us to do nothing. Rather, it tells us to abstain from actions whose ends are to manipulate and to control.
To hold on to something is to be attached to it. In Chinese, the word for ''hold'' (zhi) also means to grasp, and to grasp means not to let go. If we cannot let go of things, ideas, and even relationships, we will always be anxious about gains and losses. There is a Chinese phrase that describes the meaning of ''letting go'' most aptly: ''to be able to pick it up and to be able to put it down. ''
The Daode jing not only describes the causes of ill health, anxiety, and the inability to live a happy and contented life. It also teaches us how to overcome desire by cultivating a mind that is free of attachments. One way to cultivate the mind is to change our attitude toward ourselves and toward things in the world. In Daoist practice, decreasing self-importance, knowing our limits, learning to yield, practicing noninterference, and living a simple life are all part of the discipline called ''taming the mind. '' Another way to cultivate the mind is to change it from being centered on itself to being centered on nothing. The practice of emptying the mind of thoughts through silence is part of the dis- cipline called ''stilling the mind. '' While the practice of ''taming the mind'' is typically integrated into everyday living and does not require formal supervi- sion, the practice of ''stilling the mind'' requires rigorous training and formal instruction. Today, the techniques of ''stilling the mind'' are collectively known as ''meditation. ''
In taming the mind, we must first dissolve the desire for material things. However, Daoism does not promote deprivation or even asceticism. Rather, it teaches us to live in moderation and understand the difference between wants and needs. The Daode jing (chapter 29) says, ''The sage rejects the extreme, the extravagant, and the excessive. '' To be moderate is not to live in extremes; to live simply is not to be extravagant; and to live contently is not to indulge in excessiveness. If the Daode jing had favored asceticism, it would have en- dorsed hardship and told us to abandon all comforts in life.
Second, we need to minimize self-importance. This means doing things out of necessity and not for praise and recognition. In fact, we need to un- derstand that ''achievement'' and ''accomplishment'' are the creations of a self- centered mind, and that in this world there are only appropriate and inap- propriate actions. Pulling someone out of a burning house is not a heroic act or an achievement; it is the natural and appropriate thing to do given the situation. Of decreasing self-importance and self-centeredness, chapter 30 of the Daode jing says:
The sage produces results and does not brag about it. He produces results and does not praise himself for it. He produces results and does not boast about it.
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He produces results because that's what he would do. And he gets things done without using any force.
It is interesting to note that in the text, the word ''guo,'' which I have translated as ''produces results,'' is used to describe the actions of the sage. Guo's original and literal meaning is ''fruit. '' Therefore, guo means actions that yield fruits, results, or effects. The sage ''produces results'' with his actions and understands that it is the fruit of the action, not the actor, that is important.
Third, in taming the mind, we need to know our limits and not indulge in excesses. The Daode jing (chapter 44) says, ''Know when to stop, and you will be around for a long time. '' All things have their limits. The key to health and longevity is in knowing when something is excessive, be it eating, drinking, walking, sitting, sleeping, or thinking. Excessive eating and drinking damage the bowels; excessive walking damages the tendons; excessive sitting and sleeping damage the bones; and excessive thinking tires the mind. If the ac- tivities in our daily life are balanced, then mind and body will be balanced and healthy.
Fourth, we need to let go of the desire to interfere and to be in control. Chapter 2 of the Daode jing says:
The sage attends to the affairs of non-action and practices wordless teachings.
The ten thousand things are set in motion but he is not their agent. He gives birth to them but does not hold on to them.
He finishes his tasks but is not attached to them.
He retires when the work is done.
If we understand that we are not the prime mover of events, and that many things are better off when they are left to run their natural course, we will be less prone to interfere or try to take control. The less we see ourselves as the center of things, the less we will be entangled in the affairs of others, and the less we will bring trouble and unnecessary worries into our lives.
Apart from changing attitudes and incorporating the changes into their daily lives, Daoist practitioners also use meditation to empty the mind of thoughts and desire. The passages that describe the techniques of ''stilling the mind'' (or meditation) are found in chapters 10 and 36. The meanings in these passages, I think, are best deciphered by ''practice. '' There are three lines in chapter 10 that allude to three different forms of Daoist meditation. The first line reads, ''In nourishing the soul--can you embrace the One and not let it leave? ''
There is a form of Daoist meditation known as ''Holding or Embracing the One. '' Holding or Embracing the One means keeping the undifferentiated
energy of the Dao within. We are born with the primordial energy of the Dao, and this energy is kept within us by our spirit. However, desire and attach- ment to things in the world can lead the spirit away by drawing it toward the objects of desire. When the spirit departs, we can no longer keep the pri- mordial energy within, and when the primordial energy leaves, we will be- come ill. A commentary on the Daode jing by Heshang Gong, believed to have been written in the Han dynasty (third century b. c. e. to third century c. e. ), states, ''If people can hold onto the spirit and unite it with the One, they will not die. ''
To keep the spirit within so that it can hold on to the primordial energy of the Dao, the practitioner first slows the thoughts and stills the mind until no mental activity is present. Physical stillness is recommended but not neces- sary; the mind can be still when one is walking. Once stillness is attained, the undifferentiated energy of the Dao can be held and gathered to nourish the body and clear the mind.
The second line reads, ''In circulating the breath and making it soft--can you do it like that of an infant? '' There is a form of Daoist meditation that uses techniques of circulating and regulating breath to cultivate physical health and mental clarity. Daoists believe that breath sustains life by circulating energy in the body. Thus, proper breathing can enhance health and longevity.
This passage refers to a form of breathing in Daoist practice that is known as ''infant breathing. '' Infant breathing involves synchronizing abdominal movement with inhalation and exhalation. It is soft and slow and is never forced or controlled by conscious thoughts. The Daode jing (chapter 55) states, ''If the mind were to control the breath, this would be forcing things. '' When we can breathe like an infant, energy in the body will be replenished and we will be rejuvenated.
Abdominal breathing itself is deep breathing. In this form of breath- ing, the air is allowed to sink into the belly before it is exhaled. Abdominal breathing requires much diaphragmatic action and the internal organs must be pliable enough to move out of the way when the diaphragm presses down during inhalation. Modern practitioners of the Daoist arts incorporate the techniques of circulating and regulating breath into a discipline called qigong (which literally means ''the work of breath and energy''). Fetal or infant breathing is the most advanced stage of qigong, and it can be practiced only after many years of training.
The third line reads, ''In cleaning the subtle mirror--can you make it spotless? ''
There is a form of Daoist meditation that is designed to empty the mind of desire by stopping thoughts. The subtle mirror is the mind, which when
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cleaned (that is, emptied), can see through the illusions of desire. The image of the mind as a mirror and the metaphor of cleaning it are used also by the Chan (Zen) Buddhists (who were influenced by Daoism) to describe the process of stopping the thought processes and recovering the original empty mind.
Today, this form of Daoist meditation is practiced widely by members of the Complete Reality (quanzhen) School of Daoism, who believe that the mind must be emptied of thoughts and desire before the techniques of rejuvenating the body can be practiced.
Another form of meditation practiced by Daoists is ''Internal Observa- tion'' (dingguan or neiguan). The principles behind this form of meditation are described in chapter 36 of the Daode jing:
If you want to get rid of it, you must cooperate with it.
If you wish to take something away from it, you must contribute to it.
Internal observation requires the practitioner to use the mind to subdue the mind. In this form of meditation, one observes the rise and fall of sensations, emotions, thoughts, and desires, becoming mindful that such phenomena are products of an active mind that is attached to desire. Internal observation encourages the use of ''productive'' mental activity (mindfulness) to conquer ''wayward'' mental activity. Productive mental activity is the mindful activity that analyzes the rise and fall of thoughts and sensations and eventually understands the futility of attachment. On the other hand, wayward mental activity is thinking that is directed toward objects of desire. To use productive mental activity to defeat wayward mental activity is what is meant by ''getting rid of it by cooperating with it'' and ''taking it away by contributing to it. ''
The Daode jing on Cultivating the Body
Daoists believe that health and longevity are intimately linked to the level of energy in the body. When we were in our mother's womb, we were nourished by the primordial energy of the Dao. After we are born, the contact with that primordial energy is lost. From then on, any energy spent can no longer be replenished by this inexhaustible source. With growth, puberty, and maturity, energy continues to be spent as we think, desire, and have sex. The more we indulge in these activities, the faster the energy will dissipate. The faster the energy dissipates, the faster we will age. When the body does not have enough energy to heal its injuries or protect itself from diseases, we will become weak and ill. When the energy is completely spent, we will die.
Chapter 13 of the Daode jing says:
The reason why I have a problem
Is because I have a body.
If I had no body, then all my problems would go away.
Although Daoists believe that the body is the root of the problem of ill health, they do not believe that it is ''evil'' or ''extraneous. '' The body is the source of the problem only because it is where desire originates. Daoists do not deny the body. If they had believed in the denial of the body, they would not have developed techniques to nourish it.
Desire damages health, because when energy is spent on satisfying wants, it cannot be used to nourish the body. The Daode jing (chapter 44) puts this choice between health and desire very bluntly:
Fame or your body, which do you want more?
Your Body or your wealth, which do you value more?
Energy can also dissipate through openings in the body. The mouth, for example, is an area of the body where energy can leak out. This is why the Daode jing (chapter 5) says, ''Talk too much and you'll be exhausted. '' Speaking is an activity that can cause energy to escape from the body. This is because two major channels of energy in the body (the du and ren meridians) connect at the palate of the mouth. If we close the mouth, the channels are connected and energy is kept within the body. If we open the mouth, the two meridians are disconnected and an opening has been created for the energy to escape. Therefore, maintaining silence and speaking only when necessary can help us conserve energy.
One technique used by Daoists to cultivate health and longevity involves blocking the openings to prevent the energy from flowing out of the body. Consider this passage from chapter 52 of the Daode jing:
Block the holes and close the doors,
And you will not be labored all your life. Open the holes and meddle in affairs, And all your life you will never be saved.
Blocking the holes and closing the doors mean closing the orifices of the body so that energy does not leak out. The orifices are the mouth, the nostrils, the anus, and the sexual organs. (The ears are not considered orifices because the eardrum is a physical barrier. ) If these openings are not blocked, energy will escape out of the body.
To prevent the leakage of energy, Daoists have developed techniques to block the four openings. To block the orifice at the mouth, we minimize speech
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and keep the tongue against the palate. To block the orifice at the nose, we soften the breath and breathe with the diaphragm. To block the orifice at the anus, we sit and sleep in postures designed to cover that opening. And to pre- vent the energy from escaping through the sexual organs, Daoists use special techniques to conserve and control the expenditure of energy during sexual intercourse. These techniques are called ''bedchamber techniques'' and are also recognized by the classics of traditional Chinese medicine such as The Yellow Emperor's Classic of Internal Medicine (Huangdi neijing suwen) and The Spiritual Pivot (Lingshu) as methods of conserving energy and cultivating health.
Another way to cultivate energy is to refine it. Chapter 10 of the Daode jing says:
In circulating the breath and making it soft--can you do it like that of an infant?
In opening and closing the celestial gates, can you become the female?
The circulation and regulation of breath can help us to cultivate and refine energy. Using the appropriate techniques, mundane breath (the air we inhale) can be transmuted and purified into primordial and pristine energy. Fetal and abdominal breathing (described earlier) are examples of how this process of transmutation can be accomplished.
In the transmutation of breath (qi) into energy (qi), the timing of the cycles of inhalation and exhalation is critical. During inhalation, the ''valves'' along the energy channels are opened to allow the outside air to enter. During exhalation, the ''valves'' along the energy channels are closed to keep the purified energy within while the impurities are expelled. The ''valves'' along the energy chan- nels are called the ''celestial gates'' (tianmen), and the energy circuit inside the body is called the ''celestial'' or ''royal'' pathway (huang Dao). The more com- mon name for this pathway is the Microcosmic Orbit (xiaozhoutian).
Energy spent is energy lost if it is not replenished. One way to replenish energy is to gather it from a source that has an inexhaustible supply. This source is referred to as the ''valley spirit'' and the ''mysterious female. '' Chapter 6 of the Daode jing says:
The valley spirit does not die.
It is called the mysterious female.
The gates of the mysterious female Are the roots of the sky and the earth. Lasting and existing forever,
It cannot be exhausted.
The ''valley spirit'' refers to the exhaustible energy of the female that has the power to nourish and give birth. That is why it ''does not die. '' Daoists call it the procreative or generative energy, and to be able to gather this energy is to renew life. Procreative energy in both men and women is considered ''female'' energy because, being liquid and formless, it is said to have a ''yin'' nature.
I gather chrysanthemums at the eastern hedgerow And silently gaze at the southern mountains.
The mountain air is beautiful in the sunset,
And the birds flocking together return home Among all of these things is a real meaning,
Yet when I try to express it, I become lost in ''no words. ''8
This particular poem usually strikes certain chords, stimulating them to draw analogies from experiences, particularly spiritual experiences, in their own lives, for instance, about love, nature, and the sacred. Reflection on these per- sonal experiences allows them to bring the notion of ineffability more clearly into focus. At the same time they begin to appreciate the poetic structure and power of the Daode jing, that is, the value of symbolic language: metaphor, suggestiveness, images, ambiguity. This is a text that can't just be read and taken literally; it must be listened to, heard, and felt. Though we may not be able to fully apprehend the Dao through words or concepts, words can be used symbolically to suggest what cannot be stated and to engage the reader at a more existential or intuitive level. This experience begins to move them in the direction of intuition as a possible way of knowing or coming closer to the Dao.
After reading the Daode jing and the secondary sources we begin to discuss the Daoist notion of not thinking, in a rational sense, as a way of knowing and the Daoist fondness for paradox. To stimulate consideration and discussion of
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the value of not thinking I have them read a rather humorous piece, called ''The Professor,'' which alludes to the limitations of thinking as we generally con- ceive it. The following excerpt captures its flavor:
A few years ago I used to tell myself that I wanted to marry a cowboy. Why shouldn't an English professor say this to herself--living alone, fascinated by a brown landscape, spotting a cowboy in a pickup truck sometimes in her rearview mirror as she drives on the broad high- ways of the West Coast? In fact, I realize I would still like to marry a cowboy, though by now I'm living in the East and married already to someone who is not a cowboy . . .
More important than the clothes a cowboy wore, and the way he wore them, was the fact that a cowboy probably wouldn't know much more than he had to. He would think about his work, and about his family, if he had one, and about having a good time, and not much else. I was tired of so much thinking, which was what I did most in those days. I did other things, but I went on thinking while I did them. I might feel something but I would think about what I was feeling at the same time. I even had to think about what I was thinking and wonder why I was thinking it. When I had the idea of marrying a cowboy I imagined that maybe a cowboy would help me stop thinking so much. 9
This piece may not be heavily philosophical, but it does get them to consider how they generally attempt to know something, that is, to think about it, conceptualize it, and define it. When we discuss spiritual states or religious experience, however, they begin to realize the limits of rational and conceptual thinking and that there are additional powerful and profound ways of knowing at our disposal. Albert Einstein confessed, late in his life, that his deepest understanding of the universe did not come from his rational thought process but from his intuitive awareness.
As we continue to wrestle with the notion of the Dao being the One, students further appreciate the limitations of rational thought or thinking about the Dao as a process that is inherently dualistic. The mind objectifies the Dao by thinking about it, and thus the Dao loses its essential wholeness or oneness. Of course, if the Dao is everything, then it is also rational mind and subsequently can be apprehended, at least in part, by our rational thought processes. At this point they generally begin to realize, more fully, that indeed there are things that they have come to know in their lives intuitively as a result of direct experience, where there has been a sense of becoming the other, that is, the knower becoming the known. It is not necessary for them to become
mysticism in the daode jing 71
aware of the fact that they are the Dao, that is, have had a mystical experience, for them to come to the aforementioned realization. In a sense, their wrestling with this notion is like Zen koan practice, where the rational mind begins to sense its limitations. This raises some of the larger epistemological issues of how we come to know and the value of intuition.
One of the primary issues uncovered at this point, that they are quite familiar with in their study of mysticism and which is an essential part of the Daode jing, is the need to overcome the phenomenal self to acquire com- plete knowledge of the Dao. One needs to attain a state of selflessness and become the Dao. As Chang Chung-yuan suggests, ''The awareness of the identification and inter-penetration of self and non-self is the key that unlocks the mystery of the Dao. ''10 This need to overcome the limitations and restric- tions of the ego is a persistent theme in mysticism universally. It is a theme that forces students to deal directly with notions of self and the relationship of self to some larger, and in this case ultimate, reality. In reading the Daode jing from any perspective, this is an issue that cannot be avoided. Once again, the larger epistemological issue comes to the fore: How does one come to know the Dao? As Livia Kohn points out, the main obstacles to truly knowing the Dao ''are the senses and the intellect, which continuously boost a separate notion of ego through emotions and desires, classifications and conscious knowledge. ''11
At this point in our study students begin to understand that while the Daode jing presents them with a mystical vision of the Cosmos, and their place in it, it remains quite subtle and elusive regarding the path to this vision. In the realization of this mystical vision, one is directed to become the Dao, to be reunited, to return to the root from which one has come: ''The thousands of things all around are active--I give my attention to Turning Back. Things growing wild as weeds, all turn back to the Root. ''12 This idea of returning becomes an additional theme in the Daode jing that generally proves to be a rich and fruitful area of exploration and access for students. We explore this notion of returning to the source by focusing on the persistent universal human psy- chological urge to return to that from which we've come: God, the void, the universe, nature. As they contemplate what it means to return to the Dao this generally gets played out, by analogy, in a nostalgic longing to return to childhood, their hometown, or some spot in nature that they have been at- tracted to. They realize that these attempts to fulfill this urge of returning are ultimately unsatisfying because what they seek to return to is no longer the same--things change. They are not a return to the unchanging, the familiar, the source, the Dao.
Admittedly, the Daode jing, while offering some general guidelines to finding or becoming the Dao, is for the most part devoid of practical instructions.
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Certainly the mystic path, as it is generally defined, can be found within the threads woven through this elusive text, from the necessity to overcome self and ego and the senses to ultimately attaining a state of union with the One. A further exploration of the later Daoist mystical sects points us toward more specific techniques that were, and continue to be, employed as methods to acquire what the Daode jing is calling for: becoming the Dao.
As part of the course we do have several sessions with a Qi Gong master and Daoist meditation instructor. The intent here is not to experience oneness with the Dao but to give students a sense of how one actually goes beyond intellect and abstract thinking to know the Dao. It is essential that they come to realize that in this pursuit of the Dao one must use one's whole being, that the body is also capable of knowing and experiencing this oneness, and that in the union of mind, body, and spirit is where the Dao lies.
Once again, I want to be clear that the mystic perspective is not the way to understand the Daode jing, but it is one way and, potentially, a very fruitful way. I am also fully aware of the reductionist argument from scholars like Steven Katz. However, being sensitive to the dangers of typologies--mystical vision, path, experience, states, and so on--I would still argue that if used prudently and flexibly they do have value. Does the Daode jing provide a mystical vision of the Cosmos and our place in it? I think so. I tend to agree with the Laozi bianhua jing (Scripture of the Transformations of Laozi) as interpreted by Livia Kohn, which describes
a cosmological scheme . . . where the philosopher is no longer simply a human being; the Dao is no longer only a philosophical concept referring to the organic, inherent order of the world. In the merg- ing of both, philosopher and Dao, the cosmicization of humanity coincides with the humanization of the Universe. This coincidence, then, forms the mythological paradigm for the individual Daoist's aspirations to mystical oneness as well as for the communal practice of the Dao. 13
By working through the text with an understanding of mysticism and what characterizes mystical states, students are able to reach these insights and conclusions by themselves. These qualities of oneness, intuition, selflessness, ineffability, and timelessness, so characteristic of mystical experience and philosophy, provide access into the meaning and power of the Daode jing and an appreciation of some of its claims and insights. These are not always easy concepts to deal with, but, along with an understanding of context, cultural and historical milieux, linguistic analysis, and so on, they can help us with meaning and understanding. I would argue, however, that if the mystical perspective is
mysticism in the daode jing 73
not employed, we are left with a rather lifeless and static philosophical tome representing something about a culture long gone.
It is important that we don't make the Daode jing what we want it to be. From my own experience in China, the Daode jing is still a widely read text that is vibrant, dynamic, and meaningful and continues to impact people's lives in a variety of ways. In part, the vital dynamic quality of the Daode jing can be understood by investigating and discovering the mystical dimension of this text, which provides access to what I've heard Michael LaFargue describe as ''historical meanings for them and contemporary meanings for us. ''
notes
1. Michael LaFargue, ''Recovering the Tao-te-ching's Original Meaning: Some Remarks on Historical Hermeneutics,'' in Lao-tzu and the Tao-te-ching, ed. Livia Kohn and Michael LaFargue (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1998), 255.
2. Foramoredetailedexplicationofmysticism,mysticalexperience,characteristics of mystical states, and the mystic path, consult Robert Elwood, Mysticism and Religion (Englewood Cliffs, N. J. : Prentice-Hall, 1980); F. C. Happold, Mysticism: A Study and an Anthology (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1980); William James, The Varieties of Religious Experience (Cambridge, Mass. : Harvard University Press, 1985); Richard Woods, Un- derstanding Mysticism (Garden City, N. Y. : Image Books, 1980); Steven Katz, ed. , Mysticism and Philosophical Analysis (New York: Oxford University Press, 1978); Frits Staal, Ex- ploring Mysticism: A Methodological Essay (Berkeley: University of California Press).
3. Ninian Smart, ''Understanding Religious Experience,'' in Katz. Mysticism and Philosophical Analysis, 13.
4. Harold Roth, ''The Laozi in the Context of Early Daoist Mystical Praxis,'' in Religious and Philosophical Aspects of the Laozi, ed. Mark Csikszentmihalyi and Philip J. Ivanhoe (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1999), 59-96; Livia Kohn, Early Chinese Mysticism: Philosophy and Soteriology in the Taoist Tradition. (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1992).
5. Kohn, Early Chinese Mysticism, 44- 45.
6. Erich Neumann, ''Mystical Man,'' in The Mystic Vision: Papers from the Eranos Yearbooks, vol. 6, Bolingen Series, (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1968), 375- 415.
7. Robert G. Henricks, Lao-Tzu Te-Tao-Ching: A New Translation Based on the Recently Discovered Ma-wang-tui Texts (New York: Ballantine Books, 1989), 53.
8. Chang Chung-yuan, Creativity and Taoism: A Study of Chinese Philosophy, Art and Poetry (New York: Harper & Row, 1970), 53.
9. Lydia Davis, ''The Professor,'' Harpers', February 1992, 56-59.
10. Chang Chung-yuan, Creativity and Taoism, 20.
11. Kohn, Early Chinese Mysticism, 8.
12. Michael LaFargue, The Tao of the Tao Te Ching (Albany: State University
of New York Press, 1992), 62.
13. Kohn, Early Chinese Mysticism, 44- 45.
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? The Daode Jing in Practice Eva Wong
The goal of this chapter is to present the teachings of the Daode jing from the perspective of practice. To the practitioner of the Daoist arts, the texts of Daoism are not just objects of intellectual inquiry but guidelines for practice. Almost all the texts of the Daoist canon (Daozang) were written by practitioners for practitioners. In the Daoist tradition, study and practice are inseparable: to study is to practice and to practice is to study. Understanding a text can help us practice its teachings; practicing its teachings can help us understand its meanings.
The Daode jing contains a wealth of knowledge and wisdom on subject matters as diverse as statecraft and politics, the nature of reality (the Dao), sagehood, and the arts of cultivating health and longevity. While much has been written about the Daode jing's views on the first three topics, far less attention has been devoted to its approach on cultivating life. In this essay I highlight this aspect of the Daode jing's teachings, discuss how understanding a text can help us practice its teachings, and show how practice can help us decipher meanings in a text.
The Art of Understanding a Text
Daoist texts, like most works from spiritual traditions, can be read and interpreted at multiple levels. The art of interpreting and
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deciphering hidden meanings in a text is called hermeneutics. It recognizes that a text has many levels of meaning and that the meaning carried in the semantics of the text is only its surface meaning. A deeper level of meaning is expressed in how the text was written, not just what was written. Even deeper levels of meaning are carried in the ''intention'' of a text, whose meaning can be grasped only if we listen to the language of the text and not just read its ''words. '' To listen to a text, one needs to suspend judgment, quiet the critical mind, and become receptive to it. If we are willing to listen to and learn from a text, the text will open to us a world of meaning that is inaccessible to our analytical mind.
Many Daoist texts were written with the intention to encode several levels of meaning. The exoteric levels of meaning are carried in the superficial layers of the text, and the esoteric meanings are encoded in the deeper layers. Exoteric meaning can be grasped by the common or even casual reader, but esoteric meaning is meant for those initiated into the practice.
In the Daoist tradition, ''safety'' more than anything else was the moti- vation behind encoding multiple levels of meaning into a text. Some tech- niques are dangerous if they are practiced unsupervised or if the practitioner does not have the sufficient spiritual foundation. Most of the texts of Daoist internal alchemy written between the third and thirteenth centuries fall into this category.
Some Daoist texts, however, were not written with the ''intention'' of hiding secret meanings. But as Daoism became more a discipline of study than a practice, the number of practitioners dwindled, and meanings that were once known among a large community of practitioners became ''hidden'' or lost. I think this is why certain sections of the Daode jing (especially the parts concerned with the arts of health and longevity) have become esoteric. I do not believe that these sections of the text contain dangerous knowledge; it is more likely that they contain lost knowledge.
It is known that the Daode jing was written by more than one person. Its contents clearly fall into four separate categories: statecraft and politics, the nature of reality (the Dao), sagehood, and the arts of health and longevity. The parts of the text concerned with statecraft and politics are relatively easy to understand. The sections on the nature of the Dao contain more cryptic references. This is probably because anything that we can say about the Dao can only be indirect: ''The way that can be spoken of is not the unchanging Way'' (chapter 1). The parts of the text concerned with sagehood are easily decipherable if we listen to them with a receptive mind; most of them offer practical advice on daily living. The portions of the text that deal with the arts of health and longevity are considered to be the most esoteric and the most
difficult to understand. Later in the chapter, I show that these esoteric pas- sages of the Daode jing can easily be deciphered by ''practice''.
Deciphering the Meaning of a Text with Practice
From the hermeneutical point of view, the subsurface semantics (and prag- matics) of a text can be uncovered by deconstruction, but hidden meanings can be revealed only by listening to the language of a text. To these two methods of deciphering a text I would like to add the use of ''practice''. ''Practice'' can be a powerful tool for recovering meanings that cannot be accessed by semantics or pragmatics or by listening to the language. Listening to the Daode jing can help us understand its teachings, but practice can help us to recover its lost meanings.
Understanding the Daode Jing from the Perspective of Practice
The goal of Daoist practice is to maintain a healthy body and a clear mind, to be free from stress and anxiety, and to live a contented and long life. To this end, Daoists advocate cultivating the mind by emptying it of desire, cultivating the body by filling it with life energy, and adopting a lifestyle of simplicity and quietude. We shall consider the Daode jing's teachings on each of these topics in turn.
The Daode jing on Cultivating the Mind
First we shall examine the Daode jing's teachings on cultivating the mind by listening to the language of the text.
According to the Daode jing, desire is the cause of poor health, anxiety, mental anguish, and the inability to live a happy and contented life. Desire is attachment. The desire for material things comes from attachment to objects or things in the world; the desire to be important, to be recognized, to achieve, and to be in control comes from attachment to the self.
Anxiety arises as a result of attachment to material things. We are anxious to get what we don't have and anxious about losing what we have. Desire can blind us to the distinction between needs and wants. Consequently, many people end up spending more time and effort accumulating possessions than enjoying them. And the more possessions they have, the more afraid they are of losing them. The Daode jing (chapter 44) says, ''If you have a lot of
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desire, you will probably be extravagant. The more you hoard, the more you will lose. ''
Attachment to material things can also affect the functioning of the senses. Instead of simply being things in the world, objects become attractive or unattractive (to the eyes), pleasant or unpleasant (to the ears), and pleasing or unpleasing (to the palate). When the senses become overstimulated, they become dull. When they become dull, they cease to function properly, and when they stop functioning, we become confused and disoriented. Moreover, if the senses are too preoccupied with objects of desire, they can no longer warn us of impending dangers. The Daode jing (chapter 12) says:
The five colors can confuse your sight.
The five sounds can dull your hearing.
The five flavors can injure your sense of taste.
Racing and hunting can drive you mad.
Material goods that are hard to get will hinder your movement.
Excessive excitement can be detrimental to health. Activities that pump up the adrenaline (such as racing and hunting) may give us a temporary ''high'', but since excitement cannot last forever, a ''high'' is always followed by a ''low''. This cyclical swing between excitement and the return to normal levels of stimulation is harmful to both physical and mental health because it does not give the mind and the body sufficient time to adjust to two extreme states of functioning.
Desire is not just directed toward material things. We can also desire immaterial things, such as knowledge, fame, achievement, and power. Ac- cording to the Daode jing, desire for knowledge can make thinking rigid and one-sided. This is because the pursuit of knowledge requires the mind to be oriented toward objects in the world, whether things, people, or ideas. If we place too much emphasis on knowing about the object-world, we will not be able to look inward and learn about ourselves. Chapter 33 of the Daode jing says:
To understand others is to be clever.
To understand yourself is to be enlightened. You can use force to conquer others.
But you will need strength to conquer yourself.
Let us listen to the language in this passage more closely. First, the text con- trasts ''clever'' (zhi) with ''enlightened'' (ming) to distinguish object-knowledge, which is associated with cleverness, from self-knowledge, which is associated with enlightenment. In Chinese, the word for cleverness, ''zhi,'' has connota- tions of ''know-how'' and ''knowledge gained by trickery. '' In fact, zhi is used
often with ''qu,'' as in zhiqu to mean using trickery and underhandedness to win. On the other hand, enlightenment is ''ming,'' which has the connotation of brightness. Thus, while cleverness can give us small gains and temporary knowledge, it is enlightenment (or self-knowledge) that can illuminate and guide us in our daily lives.
Second, the text contrasts ''force'' (li) with ''strength'' (qiang). ''Li'' has the connotation of brute force. Li has no intelligence and is incapable of admitting failure; it is like a bulldozer crashing against a wall. If the wall is weak, brute force will break it, but if the wall is strong, brute force will be ineffective. On the other hand, qiang has the connotation of inner strength.
Qiang is intelli- gent; it recognizes its limits and is capable of accepting its own weakness. Thus, while force can give us temporary control of a situation, it is strength that allows us to evaluate the external situation, understand ourselves, and act accordingly.
A more subtle form of desire is the desire for self-importance. The desire for self-importance is associated with the desire to achieve and to be recog- nized. According to the Daode jing, the notion of ''achievement'' is created by us so that we can give importance to our actions. When insects procreate, flowers bloom, and water nourishes the soil, they do not consider their ac- tions as ''achievements''. In contrast, humanity has transformed ''action'' into ''achievement'', and in doing so, we have given ourselves a false sense of self- respect as well as distanced ourselves from the natural way of things. Of self- importance, the Daode jing (chapter 24) says:
Those who boast are not rooted.
Those who inflate themselves will get nowhere.
Those who display themselves do not shine.
Those who publicize their actions accomplish nothing. Those who praise themselves do not last long.
The words ''boast,'' ''inflate,'' ''display,'' ''publicize,'' and ''praise'' describe dif- ferent ways of distorting reality. To boast is to distort by adding personal opin- ions: the choice to emphasize particular actions is also the choice to omit others. To inflate is to distort by making something appear more important than it really is. To display is to distort by making one thing more prominent than others. To publicize is to distort by making one thing more obvious than others: the choice to make one thing known is also the choice to render certain things unknown. Finally, to praise is to distort by giving a favorable opinion: to praise oneself is to boast behind a veil of modesty.
The desire to achieve often leads people to do heroic and stupid things that can hurt or kill them. The Daode jing (chapter 73) says, ''If you are brave
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and daring, you'll be killed. However, if you are brave and not daring, you'll survive. ''
Here the words ''brave'' (yong) and ''daring'' (gan) are used jointly to define the meaning of courage. The contrast is not between ''brave'' and ''daring,'' but between ''brave and daring'' and ''brave and not daring. '' ''Yong'' is a state of mind, and ''gan'' is a display of courage. Thus, to be ''brave and daring'' is to act like a hero with reckless disregard for consequences. We can think of gan as dumb courage. To be ''brave and not daring'' is to take the appropriate and necessary action after assessing the situation.
People who are brave and daring will usually find it hard to yield, because for them, to yield is to be cowardly. Thus, they would rather forfeit their lives than retreat. However, people who are brave and not daring will know when to yield, and in yielding, they will survive.
The desire to be in control makes people want to interfere, believing that they can make things happen or not happen. However, since we cannot control everything, to believe that we are in control only gives us a false sense of security, a security that is shattered when things do not turn out the way we expect them to. Thus, if we believe that we are in control, we will likely be sad, frustrated, irritated, and disappointed if things go wrong. However, if we accept that there are certain things that we cannot control, we will be better prepared when situations turn aversive.
Sometimes we can actually make things worse by trying to interfere and make them happen. Chapter 64 of the Daode jing says:
Those who act on it will ruin it. Those who hold on to it will lose it. The sage does not act upon things, Therefore he does not ruin them. He does not hold on to things, Therefore he does not lose them.
In this passage we find the famous contrast between ''action'' (wei) and ''non- action'' (wuwei). ''Wei'' is the act of interfering. By acting upon something, we modify and transform it. On the other hand, wuwei is the act of not-interfering. By not-acting on something, we let it run its natural course and do not interfere with its natural tendencies. Wuwei does not mean ''doing nothing''; rather, it means acting appropriately according to the natural way of things. If wuwei had meant doing nothing, then the text would have said ''those who act,'' not ''those who act on it. '' The Daode jing does not teach us to do nothing. Rather, it tells us to abstain from actions whose ends are to manipulate and to control.
To hold on to something is to be attached to it. In Chinese, the word for ''hold'' (zhi) also means to grasp, and to grasp means not to let go. If we cannot let go of things, ideas, and even relationships, we will always be anxious about gains and losses. There is a Chinese phrase that describes the meaning of ''letting go'' most aptly: ''to be able to pick it up and to be able to put it down. ''
The Daode jing not only describes the causes of ill health, anxiety, and the inability to live a happy and contented life. It also teaches us how to overcome desire by cultivating a mind that is free of attachments. One way to cultivate the mind is to change our attitude toward ourselves and toward things in the world. In Daoist practice, decreasing self-importance, knowing our limits, learning to yield, practicing noninterference, and living a simple life are all part of the discipline called ''taming the mind. '' Another way to cultivate the mind is to change it from being centered on itself to being centered on nothing. The practice of emptying the mind of thoughts through silence is part of the dis- cipline called ''stilling the mind. '' While the practice of ''taming the mind'' is typically integrated into everyday living and does not require formal supervi- sion, the practice of ''stilling the mind'' requires rigorous training and formal instruction. Today, the techniques of ''stilling the mind'' are collectively known as ''meditation. ''
In taming the mind, we must first dissolve the desire for material things. However, Daoism does not promote deprivation or even asceticism. Rather, it teaches us to live in moderation and understand the difference between wants and needs. The Daode jing (chapter 29) says, ''The sage rejects the extreme, the extravagant, and the excessive. '' To be moderate is not to live in extremes; to live simply is not to be extravagant; and to live contently is not to indulge in excessiveness. If the Daode jing had favored asceticism, it would have en- dorsed hardship and told us to abandon all comforts in life.
Second, we need to minimize self-importance. This means doing things out of necessity and not for praise and recognition. In fact, we need to un- derstand that ''achievement'' and ''accomplishment'' are the creations of a self- centered mind, and that in this world there are only appropriate and inap- propriate actions. Pulling someone out of a burning house is not a heroic act or an achievement; it is the natural and appropriate thing to do given the situation. Of decreasing self-importance and self-centeredness, chapter 30 of the Daode jing says:
The sage produces results and does not brag about it. He produces results and does not praise himself for it. He produces results and does not boast about it.
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He produces results because that's what he would do. And he gets things done without using any force.
It is interesting to note that in the text, the word ''guo,'' which I have translated as ''produces results,'' is used to describe the actions of the sage. Guo's original and literal meaning is ''fruit. '' Therefore, guo means actions that yield fruits, results, or effects. The sage ''produces results'' with his actions and understands that it is the fruit of the action, not the actor, that is important.
Third, in taming the mind, we need to know our limits and not indulge in excesses. The Daode jing (chapter 44) says, ''Know when to stop, and you will be around for a long time. '' All things have their limits. The key to health and longevity is in knowing when something is excessive, be it eating, drinking, walking, sitting, sleeping, or thinking. Excessive eating and drinking damage the bowels; excessive walking damages the tendons; excessive sitting and sleeping damage the bones; and excessive thinking tires the mind. If the ac- tivities in our daily life are balanced, then mind and body will be balanced and healthy.
Fourth, we need to let go of the desire to interfere and to be in control. Chapter 2 of the Daode jing says:
The sage attends to the affairs of non-action and practices wordless teachings.
The ten thousand things are set in motion but he is not their agent. He gives birth to them but does not hold on to them.
He finishes his tasks but is not attached to them.
He retires when the work is done.
If we understand that we are not the prime mover of events, and that many things are better off when they are left to run their natural course, we will be less prone to interfere or try to take control. The less we see ourselves as the center of things, the less we will be entangled in the affairs of others, and the less we will bring trouble and unnecessary worries into our lives.
Apart from changing attitudes and incorporating the changes into their daily lives, Daoist practitioners also use meditation to empty the mind of thoughts and desire. The passages that describe the techniques of ''stilling the mind'' (or meditation) are found in chapters 10 and 36. The meanings in these passages, I think, are best deciphered by ''practice. '' There are three lines in chapter 10 that allude to three different forms of Daoist meditation. The first line reads, ''In nourishing the soul--can you embrace the One and not let it leave? ''
There is a form of Daoist meditation known as ''Holding or Embracing the One. '' Holding or Embracing the One means keeping the undifferentiated
energy of the Dao within. We are born with the primordial energy of the Dao, and this energy is kept within us by our spirit. However, desire and attach- ment to things in the world can lead the spirit away by drawing it toward the objects of desire. When the spirit departs, we can no longer keep the pri- mordial energy within, and when the primordial energy leaves, we will be- come ill. A commentary on the Daode jing by Heshang Gong, believed to have been written in the Han dynasty (third century b. c. e. to third century c. e. ), states, ''If people can hold onto the spirit and unite it with the One, they will not die. ''
To keep the spirit within so that it can hold on to the primordial energy of the Dao, the practitioner first slows the thoughts and stills the mind until no mental activity is present. Physical stillness is recommended but not neces- sary; the mind can be still when one is walking. Once stillness is attained, the undifferentiated energy of the Dao can be held and gathered to nourish the body and clear the mind.
The second line reads, ''In circulating the breath and making it soft--can you do it like that of an infant? '' There is a form of Daoist meditation that uses techniques of circulating and regulating breath to cultivate physical health and mental clarity. Daoists believe that breath sustains life by circulating energy in the body. Thus, proper breathing can enhance health and longevity.
This passage refers to a form of breathing in Daoist practice that is known as ''infant breathing. '' Infant breathing involves synchronizing abdominal movement with inhalation and exhalation. It is soft and slow and is never forced or controlled by conscious thoughts. The Daode jing (chapter 55) states, ''If the mind were to control the breath, this would be forcing things. '' When we can breathe like an infant, energy in the body will be replenished and we will be rejuvenated.
Abdominal breathing itself is deep breathing. In this form of breath- ing, the air is allowed to sink into the belly before it is exhaled. Abdominal breathing requires much diaphragmatic action and the internal organs must be pliable enough to move out of the way when the diaphragm presses down during inhalation. Modern practitioners of the Daoist arts incorporate the techniques of circulating and regulating breath into a discipline called qigong (which literally means ''the work of breath and energy''). Fetal or infant breathing is the most advanced stage of qigong, and it can be practiced only after many years of training.
The third line reads, ''In cleaning the subtle mirror--can you make it spotless? ''
There is a form of Daoist meditation that is designed to empty the mind of desire by stopping thoughts. The subtle mirror is the mind, which when
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cleaned (that is, emptied), can see through the illusions of desire. The image of the mind as a mirror and the metaphor of cleaning it are used also by the Chan (Zen) Buddhists (who were influenced by Daoism) to describe the process of stopping the thought processes and recovering the original empty mind.
Today, this form of Daoist meditation is practiced widely by members of the Complete Reality (quanzhen) School of Daoism, who believe that the mind must be emptied of thoughts and desire before the techniques of rejuvenating the body can be practiced.
Another form of meditation practiced by Daoists is ''Internal Observa- tion'' (dingguan or neiguan). The principles behind this form of meditation are described in chapter 36 of the Daode jing:
If you want to get rid of it, you must cooperate with it.
If you wish to take something away from it, you must contribute to it.
Internal observation requires the practitioner to use the mind to subdue the mind. In this form of meditation, one observes the rise and fall of sensations, emotions, thoughts, and desires, becoming mindful that such phenomena are products of an active mind that is attached to desire. Internal observation encourages the use of ''productive'' mental activity (mindfulness) to conquer ''wayward'' mental activity. Productive mental activity is the mindful activity that analyzes the rise and fall of thoughts and sensations and eventually understands the futility of attachment. On the other hand, wayward mental activity is thinking that is directed toward objects of desire. To use productive mental activity to defeat wayward mental activity is what is meant by ''getting rid of it by cooperating with it'' and ''taking it away by contributing to it. ''
The Daode jing on Cultivating the Body
Daoists believe that health and longevity are intimately linked to the level of energy in the body. When we were in our mother's womb, we were nourished by the primordial energy of the Dao. After we are born, the contact with that primordial energy is lost. From then on, any energy spent can no longer be replenished by this inexhaustible source. With growth, puberty, and maturity, energy continues to be spent as we think, desire, and have sex. The more we indulge in these activities, the faster the energy will dissipate. The faster the energy dissipates, the faster we will age. When the body does not have enough energy to heal its injuries or protect itself from diseases, we will become weak and ill. When the energy is completely spent, we will die.
Chapter 13 of the Daode jing says:
The reason why I have a problem
Is because I have a body.
If I had no body, then all my problems would go away.
Although Daoists believe that the body is the root of the problem of ill health, they do not believe that it is ''evil'' or ''extraneous. '' The body is the source of the problem only because it is where desire originates. Daoists do not deny the body. If they had believed in the denial of the body, they would not have developed techniques to nourish it.
Desire damages health, because when energy is spent on satisfying wants, it cannot be used to nourish the body. The Daode jing (chapter 44) puts this choice between health and desire very bluntly:
Fame or your body, which do you want more?
Your Body or your wealth, which do you value more?
Energy can also dissipate through openings in the body. The mouth, for example, is an area of the body where energy can leak out. This is why the Daode jing (chapter 5) says, ''Talk too much and you'll be exhausted. '' Speaking is an activity that can cause energy to escape from the body. This is because two major channels of energy in the body (the du and ren meridians) connect at the palate of the mouth. If we close the mouth, the channels are connected and energy is kept within the body. If we open the mouth, the two meridians are disconnected and an opening has been created for the energy to escape. Therefore, maintaining silence and speaking only when necessary can help us conserve energy.
One technique used by Daoists to cultivate health and longevity involves blocking the openings to prevent the energy from flowing out of the body. Consider this passage from chapter 52 of the Daode jing:
Block the holes and close the doors,
And you will not be labored all your life. Open the holes and meddle in affairs, And all your life you will never be saved.
Blocking the holes and closing the doors mean closing the orifices of the body so that energy does not leak out. The orifices are the mouth, the nostrils, the anus, and the sexual organs. (The ears are not considered orifices because the eardrum is a physical barrier. ) If these openings are not blocked, energy will escape out of the body.
To prevent the leakage of energy, Daoists have developed techniques to block the four openings. To block the orifice at the mouth, we minimize speech
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and keep the tongue against the palate. To block the orifice at the nose, we soften the breath and breathe with the diaphragm. To block the orifice at the anus, we sit and sleep in postures designed to cover that opening. And to pre- vent the energy from escaping through the sexual organs, Daoists use special techniques to conserve and control the expenditure of energy during sexual intercourse. These techniques are called ''bedchamber techniques'' and are also recognized by the classics of traditional Chinese medicine such as The Yellow Emperor's Classic of Internal Medicine (Huangdi neijing suwen) and The Spiritual Pivot (Lingshu) as methods of conserving energy and cultivating health.
Another way to cultivate energy is to refine it. Chapter 10 of the Daode jing says:
In circulating the breath and making it soft--can you do it like that of an infant?
In opening and closing the celestial gates, can you become the female?
The circulation and regulation of breath can help us to cultivate and refine energy. Using the appropriate techniques, mundane breath (the air we inhale) can be transmuted and purified into primordial and pristine energy. Fetal and abdominal breathing (described earlier) are examples of how this process of transmutation can be accomplished.
In the transmutation of breath (qi) into energy (qi), the timing of the cycles of inhalation and exhalation is critical. During inhalation, the ''valves'' along the energy channels are opened to allow the outside air to enter. During exhalation, the ''valves'' along the energy channels are closed to keep the purified energy within while the impurities are expelled. The ''valves'' along the energy chan- nels are called the ''celestial gates'' (tianmen), and the energy circuit inside the body is called the ''celestial'' or ''royal'' pathway (huang Dao). The more com- mon name for this pathway is the Microcosmic Orbit (xiaozhoutian).
Energy spent is energy lost if it is not replenished. One way to replenish energy is to gather it from a source that has an inexhaustible supply. This source is referred to as the ''valley spirit'' and the ''mysterious female. '' Chapter 6 of the Daode jing says:
The valley spirit does not die.
It is called the mysterious female.
The gates of the mysterious female Are the roots of the sky and the earth. Lasting and existing forever,
It cannot be exhausted.
The ''valley spirit'' refers to the exhaustible energy of the female that has the power to nourish and give birth. That is why it ''does not die. '' Daoists call it the procreative or generative energy, and to be able to gather this energy is to renew life. Procreative energy in both men and women is considered ''female'' energy because, being liquid and formless, it is said to have a ''yin'' nature.
