Journal of Daoist Studies - Volume 11 (2018)

Journal of
Daoist Studies
Volume 11
2018
Journal of Daoist Studies
The Journal of Daoist Studies (JDS) is an annual publication dedicated to the schol-
arly exploration of Daoism in all its different dimensions. Each issue has three
main parts: Academic Articles on history, philosophy, art, society, and more
(limit 8,500 words); Forum on Contemporary Practice on issues of current activi-
ties both in China and other parts of the world (limit 5000 words); and News of
the Field, presenting publications, dissertations, conferences, and websites.
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hardt, Stephen Eskildsen, Elisabeth Friedrichs, Norman Girardot, Jonathan Her-
man, Adeline Herrou, Dominique Hertzer, Shih-shan Susan Huang, P. J. Ivanhoe,
Jia Jinhua, Jiang Sheng, Kang Xiaofei, Paul Katz, J. Russell Kirkland, Terry Klee-
man, Louis Komjathy, Ronnie Littlejohn, Liu Xun, Lü Xichen, Victor Mair, Mei Li,
Mark Meulenbeld, Thomas Michael, Christine Mollier, Harrison Moretz, David
Palmer, Fabrizio Pregadio, Michael Puett, James Robson, Harold D. Roth, Robert
Santee, Elijah Siegler, Richard Wang, Robin Wang, Michael Winn, Xu Liying,
Yang Lizhi, Yao Ping, Zhang Guangbao, Zhang Qin.
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Table of Contents
Articles
SHARON SMALL
A Daoist Exploration of Shenming 1
GABRIELE LIBERA
Losing What “Me”? An Existentialist Look at the Ego in
the Zhuangzi 21
SHIH-SHAN SUSAN HUANG

Daoist Seals, Part 2: Classifying Different Types 46
ILIA MOZIAS
Immortals and Alchemists: Spirit-Writing and Self-Cultivation
in Ming Daoism 83
EKATERINA ZAVIDOVSKAIA
Daoist Ritual Manuals in Vietnam: Self-Cultivation, Cosmic
Steps, and Healing Talismans 108
Forum on Contemporary Practice
ASHLEY SOUTH
Daoism and Peacebuilding: Toward an Agenda for Research
and Practice 137
JEFFREY MEYER
A Call to China: Daoism in Modern American Fiction 153
YUNROU
Yin—A Love Story: Daoist Fiction by a Taiji Master 165
RON CATABIA
Dantian Cultivation and the Hard Problem of Consciousness 177
SERBAN TOADER
A Romanian Spiritual Seeker's Growth: From SciFi Readings
to Neidan 193
DONALD D. DAVIS
Meditation, Taijiquan, and Qigong: Evidence for Their Impact
on Health and Longevity 207
News of the Field

Publications 233
Conferences 239
Other News 242
Contributors 245
Articles
A Daoist Exploration of Shenming
SHARON Y. SMALL
Abstract
Shenming 神明 is an important term in pre-Qin Daoist thought, notably appearing
in three excavated texts from two locations, Mawangdui 馬王堆 and Guodian 郭
店 . The Mawangdui texts of the Shiwen and the Huangdi sijing show how
shenming, both as a cosmological and a concrete physical concept, derives from
the heavenly and is then applied to the human. In the Guodian text of the Taiyi
shengshui, the term occupies a crucial position in the process of creation, begin-
ning with the Great One and ending with the formation of time. The concept
ranges from cosmological and metaphysical to ontological and physical mean-
ings. The observation of its usages within their textual context contributes to un-
derstanding Pre-Qin thought and a better understanding of the development of
thought and language of the time.
Shen 神, commonly rendered “spirit,” and ming 明, the basic word for
“light,” go back far in Chinese history. By the time of the Guodian and
Mawangdui manuscripts, i. e., around 300 and 168 BCE, they already
had a history of over a thousand years (Jia 2014, 5-15).
The origin of the character shen is shen 申, “rod,” which in the Chi-
nese calendar, represents the ninth of the Twelve Terrestrial Branches
(shierzhi 十二支; Needham 1959, 109-11). Deriving from the early picto-
graph for “lightning” (lei 電), the word connects to celestial movements
and forces observed in cloudy weather and most probably at night. In its
early form, it also includes the meaning of “extension” or “expansion,”
written with the same graph (Jia 2014, 4-5). Its later development as the
character for “spirits” does not appear in the oracle bones, and first
shows up in the Western Zhou period on bronze inscriptions, in some
1
2 / Journal of Daoist Studies 11 (2018)
cases looking the same as the word for “expand” as it appears on the
bronze vessels (Jia 2014, 6).
The character ming originally refers to the light of sun, moon, and
stars. The pictograph had a broad sense of meaning, ranging from
“light” to worship vessels and even to the name of the ancestral hall in
the king’s palace (Maspero 1933, 251-53).
Later, the two combined into the compound mingshen, indicating
the commonly worshiped deities of sun, moon, and stars. In the com-
pound, shenming, on the other hand, they originally referred to two types
of gods, atmospheric and stellar. From here, the term extended to indi-
cate all kinds of gods in general, and later came to denote the marvelous
or mysterious function of Dao, to eventually reach the personal state of
human consciousness.
Shenming appears since the Warring States period, but mainly refer-
ring to the gods of Heaven and Earth (shenqi 神祇). However, like many
other terms, once it entered the thought of the Hundred Schools, its
meaning changed as philosophical thought advanced (Wang 2001, 220).
Scholars in China trace back three groups of meanings: the gods of
Heaven and Earth, the mysterious phenomenon of change, and the abil-
ity to transcend mundane cognition (Chen 2016, 176-79).
The term occurs in various texts, including those excavated from
Mawangdui and Guodian. Yet questions remain about its usage there,
such as, whether it is different from transmitted texts such as the later
Huainanzi 淮南子 (Book of the Master of Huainan). Also, the way the
term appears in the manuscripts does not match any of the three stand-
ard interpretations.
Shenming before the Qin is notable in three excavated texts. the Shi-
wen 十問 (Ten Questions), a medical text found at Mawangdui in the
1970’s; Taiyi shengshui 太一生水 (The Great One Generated Water), a
cosmological work discovered at Guodian in 1993; and the Huangdi sijing
黃帝四經 (Four Books of the Yellow Emperor), a Han-dynasty political
treatise of the Huang-Lao 黃老 school, also from Mawangdui.
At first glance, the three seem unrelated, the sole connecting thread
being the fact that none were transmitted in the long empirical history of
Chinese tradition, and two out of the three happen to be excavated from
the same site. However, I maintain that the connection between them is
Small, “Daoist Exploration of Sheming”/ 3
immanent: they all establish and employ cosmogonic theories as the lo-
cus of their thought and as the foundation for the doctrine they propa-
gate, whether they speak dominantly about health, governance, or the
universe. Furthermore, for reasons beyond the scope of this article, I
propose that the texts can, if necessary, be categorized under the rubric
of Daoism, since they make an explicit connection between cosmos, gov-
ernance and body.1
Studying how each of those texts use the term shenming allows an
exploration of how ideas, language, and thought developed over time
and space, while also elucidating the broad semantic range of the con-
cept.
Shiwen
The Shiwen appears on bamboo slips and was excavated at Mawangdui
near Changsha in 1973 together with various medical texts and two edi-
tions of the Daode jing. Sharing common material features with the He
Yinyang 合陰陽 (Unifying Yin and Yang; Zhou 1988, 365), they were most
likely bundled together. Since the tomb containing the text was closed in
approximately 168 BCE, the text itself must be from an earlier time, and
was probably composed during the late Warring States period (Li and
McMahon 1992, 146).2
The text discusses a series of questions and answers including those
by the Yellow Emperor, dukes and princes, government officials, famous
physicians and magicians. They tend to raise questions regarding life
preservation and health, emphasizing how to attain cosmological unifi-
cation by sexual practices.
The organizers of the bamboo slips called the text Shiwen due to its
ten sections, each beginning with a series of questions followed by their
1 For historical definitions of terms like Daoism, I use the Shiji 史記, specifically
the Taishigong zixu di qishi·太史公自序第七十 (4.2481).
2 I base this claim on the usage of language and different concepts, as in the War-
ring States period the concept shenming was commonly used in Daoist texts. Thus,
I go a step further and claim that the Shiwen is also a Daoist text, as I base this
claim on the images used from the natural world and the cosmology provided in
this text, this claim is also supported by contemporary Chinese scholars. See, for
example, Cao forthcoming.
prolonged answers. It begins with the Yellow Emperor (Huangdi 黄帝)

and the Celestial Master (Tianshi 天师) and continues with historical fig-
ures such as Da Cheng 大成, Cao Ao 曹熬, Rong Cheng 容成, Yao 尧 and
Shun 舜, Wangzi Qiaofu 王子巧父, Pengzu 彭祖, Pan Geng 盤庚, Goulao
耇老, and others; some mythological some historical.
The Shiwen describes how to follow the changes of Heaven and
Earth, yin and yang, and the four seasons. It also discusses diet in daily
life, physical practices and breathing exercises, as well as more specifical-
ly the control over sexual life. Generally, the text places importance on
life preservation or “nourishing life” (yangsheng 养生). It contains a seri-
ous analysis and discussion of those issues, while the key points are pre-
vention of illnesses, seeking health, longevity, and oneness with the
cosmos.
For example, the first chapter draws on images from the natural
world while outlining the key concepts. It begins with questions in the
voice of the Yellow Emperor, directed to the Celestial Master.
The Yellow Emperor asked the Celestial Master, saying:

“The myriad things, what do they obtain that makes them move? The
grass and trees, what do they obtain that makes them grow? Sun and
moon—what do they obtain that makes them glow?”
The Celestial Master said: “You examine the original state of Heaven,
yin and yang follow their proper course, the myriad things lose it and do
not continue, obtain it and profit. Be nourished by yin to concentrate yang,
this will be the same as shenming.
The questions asked by the Yellow Emperor are cosmological; he is in-

terested in how creation works. However, the Celestial Master directs
the answers to the physical body, telling the Yellow Emperor how to
employ the cosmological force of yin to nourish his yang and be the
same as shenming. The Celestial Master continues to explain how,
through correct sexual practice, one can nourish yang and correspond to
shenming as a cosmic force.
The way of being nourished by yin, empty your five organs, and broaden
the three points.3 The nourishment esteems stillness and then strong sexual
3I base my understanding of different phrases upon the explanatory notes given

by Zhou 1988. The last part of this phrase refers to the first part, saying that the
attraction arises, resist and thereby maintain the two4, the three5 are con-
structed and do not fail, then the strong sexual attraction is generated, the
five sounds are then in accordance.
The subject under discussion here is sexual intercourse. It provides

a manual for a male practitioner, while the goal is to receive as much of
the female yin as possible. To absorb yin, the male must first empty his
body and expand his pulse, i. e. make his pulse strong and steady. The
next step is to enable the sexual arousal of the female counterpart, who
in turn makes sounds that show her enjoyment. The text continues to
instruct the male how to move his body and proceed to intercourse with
his partner:
Suck but do not exceed five times, extend from the mouth, stem it in the
heart, this being what the four assistances esteem,6 the dark wine-pot then
reaches its utmost. Drink it but do not exceed five times, the mouth will
necessarily taste the sweet taste, reach to the five organs, the form will then
arrive to extreme relaxation.
Following these instructions, the woman attains sexual pleasure.

The procedure described benefits the health of the human body and
nourishes the male yang. The dark wine-pot refers to the saliva that
comes from the woman’s mouth, the male drinks this saliva but does not
overdo it, the liquid reaches his organs and his body relaxes. In this
manner, he can proceed with sexual intercourse without ejaculation.
nourishment by qi is preserved in the body. The “three points” most likely refer
to the three points on the wrist where pulse is measured in traditional Chinese
Medicine, the three points are called cun 寸, guan 關, and chi 尺.
4 This sentence refers to the male resisting ejaculation and thereby maintaining
sexual intercourse between the two- the male and the female. (Zhou 1988, 365)
5 “Three” here refers to the number of thrusts the male makes with his sexual
organ, at this point he is to go in and out three times. (Zhou 1988, 365)
6 The four assistances refer to the four limbs in the human body. This metaphor
comes from political practice, the heart as the ruler of the body is then connected
to the four assistances standing for the four chief administrators of the ruler.
(Harper 1998, 405)
Spread it to the flesh and skin, as well as the tips of the hair, the hair vessels
then follow, the yin water then arrives, shortly after it causes the hot vapor
[to arrive to] the yang, firm and strong does not perish, drink and eat from
the body of the object [yin], this is called the prescription to restore what is
lost, corresponding to shenming. This is the Celestial Master’s way of nour-
ishing the essence of yang.
The male, resisting ejaculation, attains longevity and more im-

portantly, unison with Heaven and Earth, or in other words- corre-
sponds to shenming. In the Shiwen shenming appears many times, twice in
the first section, “be the same as shenming” (jiyu shenming 稽于神明) and
corresponding to shenming (tongyu shenming 通于神明).
This means that both male and female arrive at unison with Heaven
and Earth. We can use two examples from the Zhouyi 周易 (Zhou Book of
Changes) to exemplify this point. The Xici xia 繫辭下 section of the
Zhouyi states: “The constant intermingling of Heaven and Earth gives
shape to all things. The sexual union of man and woman gives life to all
things.” Sexual union is connected to Heaven and Earth, allowing the
human body to emulate cosmic forces and participate in the ongoing
process of generation.
As the same text has it, “The interaction of one yin and one yang is
called Dao, the resulting constant generative process is called change.”
During intercourse, yin and yang intermingle, and that is how a person
obtains and embodies Dao, resulting in a participation of the generative
process of change and creation. Thus, the conclusion is that shenming
does not refer to personal spiritual illumination or enlightenment, but to
a cosmic force that the human being embodies.
Another clue appears in hexagram 63 of the sixty-four hexagrams of
the Zhouyi. This hexagram is thought of as representing human sexuality:
the top has water, clouds—representing the female, while the bottom is
fire, light and man. This image corresponds to the concept of shenming as
it appears in the cosmological context.
Some scholars (Harper 1998, 120; Wang 2001, 221; Li 2002, 48; Xiong
2000, 535-36; Knoblock 1998, 253) maintain the terms shen and ming orig-
inally referred to religious concepts. In his glossary, John Knoblock
shows that it often represented “gods in general,” “divine beings,” or
“spirits generally” (1988, 253). E. J. Machle agrees and notes that “this
use is still current—images in Buddhist and Daoist temples are referred

to as shenming” (1993, 160).
Donald Harper maintains that one of the original meanings of
shenming was “external spirits.” In his opinion, during the Warring
States, the term often appeared in this sense, but already at that time it
adopted some newer meanings (1998, 120). Xiong Tieji points out that
shenming in many ancient texts indicates the spirits of Heaven and Earth
(2000, 533-34). Harper also holds that one of the original meanings was
“magical efficacy possessed by spirits,” and the use of the term was
common in the Warring States Period (1998, 120).
Pang Pu believes that one important meaning of shenming is “mar-
velous function of Heaven and Earth,” which in turn means “nature’s
nourishing influence.” This usage is common both in the Zhuangzi 莊子
and the Huainanzi (2000, 193). In addition, Knoblock points out that ming
明 often refers to “a kind of passive ‘sacred’ quality that is attached to
anything used in sacrifices” (1988, 253).
Regarding the Shiwen, the English version renders shenming as
“spirit illumination” (Harper 1998, 391), which is not entirely precise.
First, the text employs its terminology in such a way that cosmological
forces describe the human body. People embody these forces and ulti-
mately, through bodily practices, attain a cosmological situation that
places them as an active part of the ongoing transformations between
Heaven and Earth.
More specifically, shenming here appears in the context of yin and
yang. Nourished by yin, the practitioner can concentrate yang and may
attain a state of shenming, becoming part of a creative cosmological force.
As the text ends with the prescription to restore what was lost (yang), the
person becomes one with the cosmic force of shenming (tongyu shenming
通於神明). He activates shenming in his own personal body. How much,
then, does this have to do with what Westerners mean by “spirit”?
In English, the word “spirit” goes back to the Latin word spiritus.
“breath.” It has various meanings and connotations. As Wikipedia has it,
“The word ‘spirit’ is often used metaphysically to refer to the conscious-
ness or personality. The notions of a person’s spirit and soul often over-
lap, as both contrast with body and both are believed to survive bodily
death in some religions, and spirit can also have the sense of ghost, i. e., a
manifestation of the spirit of a deceased person or refer to any incorpo-
real or immaterial being, such as demons or deities.” In translations of

the Bible “the Spirit” (with a capital S) specifically denotes the Holy Spir-
it. The Oxford English Dictionary defines it as “the soul of a person, as
commended to God, or passing out of the body, in the moment of
death.”7
This should already make clear that the English “spirit” is quite dif-
ferent from Chinese shen in Pre-Qin times. A definition appears in the
Shuowen jiezi 說文解字(Explanation of Characters), relating it, among
others, to the idea of extension (shen), part of the original character as
noted above. When a practitioner stretches out to the universe and be-
gins to embody its forces, this extension of the physical bodies makes it
resonate with cosmic patterns, becoming more whole in the process. This
is not spirit in the Western sense, nor even the idea of cognition that cor-
responds to shenming in earlier texts.
Rather, in the Shiwen the idea is that a practitioner can extending the
body to participate in the world as a cosmological force. Here shenming
has a distinctly spiritual dimension, even if physiologically based. The
text, then, presents shenming not so much as a personal trait than as a
cosmological force, equivalent to something like sun and moon, their
power engaged individually.
The overall goal of the Shiwen, moreover, is to instruct a male per-
son how to nourish his yang. It focuses not on his spirit or his cognitive
abilities, but simply his male energy, which he can restore through cor-
rect sexual practice. The central focus is not a spiritual activity or a cogni-
tive effort, but a physical practice. Therefore, connecting a cosmological
force to a concrete physical being is not to be understood in terms of
spirit, but rather as something generative that can be equivalent to par-
ticipating in the ongoing process of creation.
Since the Shiwen is a medical text that discusses the human body
and its cultivation to attain longevity, its background philosophy is the
unification of body and cosmos, the idea of imitating the natural world
and equalizing natural with human forces. Shenming here, therefore,
does not refer to cognition; on the contrary, it refers to the state of the
cosmos, to the natural world, and to creation.
7 https://en.oxforddictionaries.com/definition/spirit
Taiyi shengshui
The Taiyi shengshui was discovered at Guodian in 1993 along with quite a
large number of other materials (see Cook 2012).8 Sharing common mate-
rial features with the Laozi C, many scholars concluded that it was a lost
part of the Laozi (Allan 2003, 253-57; Cui 1998, 31-35). However, examin-
ing the cosmology the text proposes, it is fundamentally distinct. The text
is primarily cosmological, providing a unique cosmogony otherwise un-
known.
Shenming here is strongly cosmological, placed between Heaven and
Earth and yin and yang. It forms a key link in the chain of generation
that ends with the formation of time. The cosmic development proceeds
as follows:
The Great One generates water. The water, on return, assists the Great One,
thus forming the sky. The sky, returning, assists the great one, thus forming
the earth.
The sky and the earth again assist one another, thus forming shen and
ming. Shen and ming again assist one another, thus forming yin and yang.
Yin and yang return and assist one another, thus forming the four sea-
sons. The four seasons return and assist one another, thus forming cold and
heat. Cold and heat further return and assist one another, thus forming wet
and dry. Wet and dry return and assist, thus the year is formed and the
process comes to a stop.
Here the process of cosmological unfolding begins with the Great One
and ends with accomplishment of the yearly cycle. In this cycle of crea-
tion, in this process of cosmic unfolding, shenming is positioned after the
formation of Heaven and Earth, and forms yin and yang. Since yin and
yang originate in the movement of light and shadow, the illuminators
come first.
Scholars (Li 2000; Chen 2007; Jia 2014) have read this differently.
Wang Bo (2001), for example, points out three different interpretations,
including his own: (1) the mysterious function between Heaven and
Earth, (2) light or the essence of light, (3) sun and moon (2001, 219-23).
8There are various English translations of the Taiyi shengshui, see especially:
Cook 2012, 343-54; Allan 2003, 237-85; Meyer 2008, 286-89.
Based on the context, Wang Bo reads shenming in the Taiyi shengshui

as indicating the sun and the moon (2001, 219-23). From “Heaven and
Earth” to “dry and damp,” the text presents a series of opposite yet com-
plementary pairs: Heaven and Earth, yin and yang, spring summer and
autumn winter, cold and hot, and so on. It also speaks of them as “mutu-
ally assisting” (xiang fu 相輔), indicating which means that there are two
opposite but complementary forces or things assisting each other.
Henceforth, shen and ming cannot be exceptions, they also should
serve as a pair with a mutual assisting relationship. This pair, like all
others, should be two opposites. In addition, in the above sequence, ex-
cept for shenming, all the pairs are very clear and specific, therefore we
draw the conclusion that shenming cannot be the sole concept of mystery
and abstraction, it must be something clear and specific like all the others.
An interpretation of shenming as something spiritual or as a mysterious
function of Heaven and Earth would be too abstract.
Moreover, the interpretation of shenming as the sun and the moon is
a view that exists from ancient times. Wang Bo gives two examples: “se-
cretly assisted by shenming and produced the divining plants” Zhouyi,
Shuogua 說卦 (“Explanation of the Trigrams”). This was interpreted in
the Eastern Han by Xun Shuang 荀爽(128-190AD) as: “Shen is part of
Heaven; ming is part of Earth. Shen illuminates through the night; ming
shines through daylight.” This interpretation from the Eastern Han ex-
plicitly explains shen as the moon and ming as the sun or sunlight.
Another example comes from the Tianxia 天下 (All under Heaven)
chapter of the Zhuangzi: “how does the shen descend and how does the
ming ascend? The sage generates, and the king accomplishes, all come
from one.” Using the terminology of “descending” and “ascending” to
describe shenming shows us that shenming has the same terminology used
to describe the movements of the sun and the moon.
The sequence described in the Taiyi shengshui forms a cosmogony
and describes a unique creation process. Its uniqueness is that it does not
end in the existence of Heaven, Earth and the myriad things, but rather
with the completion of time. That is, the purpose of the creation process
is not to explain how the myriad thing emerged, but tells us how time
was formed. This is very different from the cosmology we see in the
Laozi that begins with Dao and ends with the myriad beings. The “year”
(sui 歲) is a notion of time and used for setting the calendar. Thus, when
talking about time, especially in ancient times, such a discussion without
sun and moon would be impossible. As stated in the Shiliu jing 十六經
(Sixteen Classics) of the Huangdi sijing: “Counting the days, calendaring
the month, marking the years, this follows the course of the sun and the
moon.”
Many philosophical concepts in ancient China originate from a reli-
gious or sacrificial tradition, and shenming is no exception. In the Zuo-
zhuan, (Sanggong 40) 左傳·喪公四十年: “Revere as if it was the shenming.”
Even in this rather early religious tradition, shenming already incor-
porates the meaning of the illuminators, as we see in the Shiji 史記 (His-
torical Annals): “It is said that shenming resides in the North-East, the
West is its basis.”. Or in the Jijie 集解 section: “Shenming, the sun.”
Amid the transformation of thought that occurred in the Warring
States period, shenming received more meanings, however still connected
to the original. For example, shenming is often used to express wisdom,
someone who can see things clearly in the phrase from the Neiye 內業
(Inward Training; trl. Roth 1999) of the Guanzi 管子: “Shenming, illumines
the knowledge of the myriad beings”. The word “to illumine” (zhao 照)
shows a connection to the sun and the moon. Thus, this concept devel-
oped into a reflection of a persons’ wisdom.
The Yaodian 堯典 chapter of the Shangshu 尚書 states, “The calendar
imitates the sun, moon and stars, respect and instruct the times to the
people.” This shows the connection of the sun and the moon to the calcu-
lation of the year. People in antiquity observed the sun and the moon to
define the year and the four seasons. Thus, in a text like the Taiyi shenshui,
with a cosmogony that ends with the establishment of time, shenming
emerges to represent the sun and the moon.
Szabó offers a new interpretation of shenming according to the text.
“In the second half of the Warring States period, the term shenming often
referred to a pair of concepts, namely two opposite natures. The word
shen frequently meant the qi-condensing (or qi-absorbing) nature, the
nature of the earth, while the word ming often denoted the qi-extending
(or qi-issuing) nature, the nature of Heaven” (2003, 260-61).
To prove his theory, Szabó elaborates on the discussion of qi in dif-
ferent texts such as the Huainanzi, the Neiye of the Guanzi, Xunzi 荀子,
and others, showing how qi inherently connects to both shen and ming.
The attachment qi to the meaning of shenming is indeed both innovative

and interesting, however, reading qi into the Taiyi shengshui’s cosmologi-
cal system is problematic. The text begins with the Great One and water
as the forces that create Heaven and Earth. This usage of water is unique
in the context of cosmological evolution and provides us with an alterna-
tive theory of creation, one that is not initiated by qi. In contrast to other
texts, the Taiyi shengshui does not end with the myriad beings but with
time, and therefore it makes sense that a theory constructing time and
not matter would not need the employment of qi as part of its process.9
Li Ling (1998) illustrates this process visually:
Great One→water→
Heaven→shen→yang→spring and summer→heat→dryness
Earth→ming→yin→fall and winter→cold→dampness
This shows the process of creation from the Great One and water, it also
shows the importance of water in this process. In the Laozi, water is a
metaphor that describes Dao; here it is elevated into an important con-
cept that participates in the generation of the universe.
However, the emphasis here is not on water, but on shenming, and
the diagram shows its important position and division. Shen is between
sky and yang; ming is between earth and yin. Shen, therefore, relates to
Heaven and yang, it is of celestial importance and comes prior to yang,
also participating in its formulation. Ming, although translated as “light”
and close to yang in meaning, here rests between Earth and yin. Earth
produces ming; ming produces yin. Yin as shadow is visible only on earth.
The Hengxian 恆先 (Primordial Constancy), another early manu-
script, further illuminates this distinction. “Murky qi generates Earth;
clear qi generates Heaven.” This makes it clear that murky energy is clas-
sified as yin, while clear qi is yang.
Although the murky contrasts with ming, it does so on condition
that shen is above and thus ming rests below. In short, the Taiyi shengshui
9 However, qi is not absent from the Taiyi shengshui , as we see in the phrase, “Be-
low it is soil but it is called Earth; above it is qi but it is called Heaven.” This
means that if we are to account qi as part of the creative process, it comes before
shen and ming and forms the sky.
presents shenming as a cosmological concept, an opposite yet comple-

mentary pair and not a compound, a set of forces that participate in the
formation of yin and yang, second only to Heaven and Earth in the pro-
cess of generation.
Huangdi sijing
The Huangdi sijing was excavated at Mawangdui in 1973 along with oth-
er Daoist and medical texts. Written on silk, it consists of four parts,
named after their initial words Jingfa 經法, Shida jing 十大經, Cheng 稱,
and Daoyuan 道原. Believed to constitute the lost books of the Yellow
Emperor, scholars call the collection the “Four Books of the Yellow Em-
peror” (Chen 2007, 31-41).10
The Mingli 名理 section of the Jingfa 经法 says:
Dao is the origin of shenming. Shenming is the ability for one to stand inside
the measure and to see those outside the measure. Being able to stand [in-
side] the measure, he is trusted though uttering no word. Being able to see
those outside the measure, he makes his words indisputable. Being able to
stand inside the measure, he is free from motion when in tranquility; he is
free from transformation in activity. Because he is free from motion in tran-
quility and free from transformation in activity, we call this shenming.
Shenming is the key to correctly seeing and knowing.” (Chang and Feng
1998, 141)
Here shenming is appears as a mysterious function of Dao. More

specifically, the passage allows four interpretations. 1) “Dao is the origin
of shenming” means that shenming comes from Dao and is a product of
Dao; 2) “Shenming stands inside the measure and is seen outside the
measure.” This defines shenming in connection to measures (du 度), fol-
lowing Wang Bo’s reading, who takes the jian 見 to read xian 現, indicat-
ing that shenming resides within the measures, but can be revealed be-
yond (2001, 222).
3) “Still and unmoving, moving but not transforming—this is called
shen.” This identifies the characteristics of shenming as unmoving and
unchanging, constant and permanent. 4) “Shenming is the key (ji 稽) to
10 For English translations see, among others, Yates 1997; Chang and Feng 1998.
correct insight (jianzhi 見知).” The latter term refers to cognition, often
rendered “insight” or “know.” Ji, “the key,” often appears in the Jingfa,
indicating foundation or basis. Thus, shenming forms the base of
knowledge.
Shenming here is something objective, related to measures and char-
acterized by permanence. It is neither mysterious nor obscure, but the
root of clarity and foundation of perceptive insight. What, then, does it
mean for anything to be “inside the measure”? It means to be the central
pivot of all systems that can be described and measured, to form the ba-
sis of all classifications and structure. And what is “outside the
measures”? The concrete, visible manifestation of all things measurable.
As the Lun 論 (Discussions) section of the Jingfa says,
The plan of Heaven as executed by the three illuminators—the sun rising

and setting, north and south providing poles—this is the foundation of all
measures. The moon waxes and wanes, its coming and going has constancy
and forms the foundation of all (calendar) calculations. The stars are regular,
never losing their course; they form the foundation of all regular periodical
appearance s(xin 信).
Measures, calculations, and regular periodical appearances have similar

meanings. Here the discussion focuses on their foundations, i. e., the pat-
tern of sun, moon, and stars. The pattern of the illuminators is Dao, that
is, heavenly Dao. At the same time, it is also shenming, hence shenming is
the foundation of all measures. The illuminators, and their Dao—and
through them heavenly Dao—thus closely relate to the concept of
shenming.
According to Zhang Dainian, “in ancient Daoist philosophy, the
terms shen, jingshen, and shenming have a deeper meaning. Not only do
they refer to the spirit of people, but also to some situation of Heaven
and Earth, the wondrous function of the natural world” (1996, 549-50).
In its literal meaning, shenming refers to the wondrous function of
Dao, used in this manner in the Huangdi sijing as well as in the Tianxia 天
下 chapter of the Zhuangzi. “What provides Heaven and Earth with
beauty is called the endurance of shenming.” The Neiye chapter of the
Guanzi says, “Heaven’s benevolence and Earth’s righteousness naturally
arrive of themselves. The utmost of shenming is to illumine knowledge of
the myriad beings.” The Ziran 自然 chapter of the Wenzi 文子 notes,

“Great Dao . . . transforming without permanence, holding the origin of
the one, corresponding without boundaries, that is shenming.” The Xici
繫辭 section of the Zhouyi speaks of “corresponding to the virtue of
shenming, classifying the qualities of the myriad things, . . . embodying
the transformations of Heaven and Earth, and matching the virtues of
shenming.” The Ruxiao 儒效 chapter of the Xunzi says: “correspond to
shenming and participate in Heaven and Earth.” Finally, the outer chap-
ters of the Guiguzi 鬼谷子 speak of “great Dao” as the “origin of
shenming.”
Following this literal meaning, the term extends into two directions.
On the one hand, it refers to the mysterious function of “the gods of
Heaven and Earth,” as demonstrated in the Zuozhuan: “Love as you love
your parents, admire as you admire sun and moon, revere as you revere
shenming, fear as you fear the sound of thunder,” and in the Shuogua sec-
tion of the Zhouyi: “Anciently, when the sages composed the Yi, they se-
cretly assisted in shenming and produced the rules for using the divining
plant.”
On the other hand, the term also appears in the sense of the function
of human thought, i. e., jingshen 精神 and wisdom. The Qiwulun 齊物論
chapter of the Zhuangzi has, “Labor your cognition to become one.” The
Xinshu shang 心術上(Art of the Heart I) chapter of the Guanzi notes, “Rid
yourself of selfish desires and stop talking, as if shenming is deposited.”
The Quanxue 勸學 chapter of the Xunzi states, “Accumulate goodness to
establish virtue and shenming will arrive on its own.” Its Jiebi 解蔽 chap-
ter further says, “The heart-mind is the ruler of the body; shenming is its
master.” Similarly, the Yulao 喻老 chapter of the Hanfeizi 韓非子 reads,
“The orifices are the doors and windows of shenming, thus it is said:
shenming does not part from actuality.” The Yuanyou 远游 chapter of the
Chuci 楚辞, finally, speaks of “preserving the purity of shenming.”
Those examples show that the term shenming carried a broad se-
mantic range, some religious and abstract, some physical and concrete.
Most generally, it inherently connects to the thre illuminators—sun,
moon, and stars. Originating from observations of the night sky,
shenming is to be revered and secretly consulted. It is, in essence, a reli-
gious concept or cosmological force, while yet also indicating a concrete
force that enables human perception of the world.
The Huangdi sijing refers to shenming three times, always in its literal
sense, never implying its extended meanings of “jingshen” or “gods of
Heaven and Earth.”
The central part of the term, moreover, is shen. The word alone ap-
pears twelve times in the text, six times standing for shenming, and six
times referring to “the gods of Heaven and Earth.” The same feature also
appears in the Guoci 國次 chapter. “There is no escaping one’s
shen; . . .who knows their shen?” The Lun section notes that “essence is in
shen” and speaks of “arriving at the utmost of shen.” And the Daoyuan 道
原 chapter has, “Mysterious and obscure, it fills everything.” Here shen
consistently refers to shenming or at least holds a similar meaning.
Conclusion
The fact that shenming appears in many ancient Chinese texts shows that
the concept played a common role in pre-Qin thought. In Daoism, more-
over, it directly connects to Dao, the Great One, Heaven and Earth, as
well as yin and yang. Here it is most strongly a cosmogonic concept.
However, shenming held various meanings, ranging from the ability
of cognition to a metaphysical description of the state of Heaven and
Earth. In the Zhuangzi, it may also refer to xinshen 心神, that is, mind or
consciousness. Most commonly, though, its reading matches the passage
in the Huangdi sijing which uses the term to refer to the ability to per-
ceive the foundation of All under Heaven, that is, the ability to grasp the
real and fundamental condition of the world without any illusions. This,
then, is not “spirit” in the Western sense, but more something akin to
“illuminated insight.”
Shenming in this sense appears in the Zhuangzi, Guanzi, Hanfeizi, and
Xunzi. But this is not its sole meaning. Shenming is metaphysical, wheth-
er the metaphysical implication refers to human consciousness or to
cosmos, and most generally indicates ability rather than spirit be it the
ability of the human mind or of the cosmos. Just as Dao can be heavenly
(tiandao 天道) or human (rendao 人道), so shenming can belong to the
heavenly or the human, depending on context. The Zhuangzi provides
instances of both: the Qiwulun chapter uses it to refer to the ability of the
mind; the Tianxia chapter has it refer to the ability of Heaven and Earth.
Neither in any way imply the connotation of “to breathe” or “soul,” ide-
as that would match the original meaning of the word “spirit” in English.
In other words, the rendition “spirit illumination” does not convey
the full meaning of shenming in early or even medieval Daoism. A better
translation, based on the Zhouyi, would be something like “godlike,”
however, this still does not cover the full range of the term. Closely ex-
amining the context of its various appearances and especially the usage
in the Qiwulun, a better word would be “the basis of cognition.”
The three early texts examined, moreover, present the cosmological
framework of this cognitive base as functioning in a close relationship to
Dao and serving as an active participant in cosmic creation. Essentially
initiated by Dao or the Great One, shen and ming are the illuminators, the
powers of light in the night sky. Each text sees the concept slightly dif-
ferently, however, their divergent readings still all go back to the roots of
the concept in sun, moon, and stars. Among all works, the Taiyi shengshui
sticks most closely to the original meaning, presenting shenming as an
active cosmological concept, a force that actively participates in the for-
mulation of time, measures, the calendar, and human cognition.
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Losing What “Me”?
An Existentialist Look at the Ego in the
Zhuangzi
GABRIELE LIBERA
Abstract
Even though the concept of ego is clearly not of Zhuangzi’s time, and most of its
uses are not appropriate categories to interpret the Zhuangzi, the existentialist
conception of ego presents a relevant exception. Existentialist views on the ego’s
hypostatization and on its role as a source of alienation make Existentialism a
good candidate to expound some aspects of the Zhuangzi and give its theory of
mind a clearer theoretical basis. To grasp what it means for Zhuangzi to “lose
one’s me,” this paper follows the path laid down in the “Qiwulun” (ch. 2), start-
ing from value judgments to the fixed heartmind, and through existentialist ideas
shows why the crux of freedom is the emptiness and consequent mutability of
the ego, not its absence or its eradication.
It is common among Chinese scholars to describe the Zhuangzi as “a

bone that is hard to pick,” not only because of its difficulty, but because
of the abundance of commentaries over the centuries, not to mention the
numerous papers published in the last decades. However, as paradoxi-
cally as the Zhuangzi itself, this colorful description is usually followed
by something new about the text, demonstrating once more its inex-
haustible richness.
The self as a topic of philosophical investigations in the history of
thought is in some ways similar in that, even though it has been explored
by countless thinkers, it is by no way close to being exhaustively ex-
21
plained. Because of this, despite plentiful literature on the subject, 1 there

is still a lot to be said about the conception of the self in the Zhuangzi.
Many accounts by Western scholars stress the absence of the con-
cept of modern individual self in the Zhuangzi and, more generally, in
ancient Chinese thought (e.g. Ames 1994, 1997). Others argue that pre-
Qin Daoist philosophy seems closer the post-modern conception of the
self, at least in its conclusions (Hall 1994). Observing the contrast of these
perspectives with some of the existential struggles expressed in the
Zhuangzi, other scholars have detected the presence of a subject-self rela-
tionship in its language (Slingerland 2004). The slight divergence of these
views is no error but a meaningful sign, revealing something not only
about the Zhuangzi, but also about the self.
When discussing self-cultivation, most Chinese thinkers speak of
the struggle against something in the heartmind that impedes our har-
monious connection with other people and with the world. Thus, Confu-
cius speaks of “exercising self-discipline” (keji 克己), while Zhuangzi re-
fers to “losing one’s me” (sangwo 丧我). “This reveals something deep
about our inner experience, mainly that we experience ourselves as a
split” (Slingerland 2004, citing Lakoff and Johnson 1980). Indeed, if inte-
gration with society and the myriad things did not need any kind of
struggle, if our nature was perfect despite circumstances, most philoso-
phers would not have a job.
The Zhuangzi, with its vivid depiction of the tragic condition of the
alienated person, variously evinces its own awareness of such a struggle
against an entification of the self, or at least against such tendency. A
victory in that struggle is expressed in the statement “I have lost me,”
found in the “Qiwulun” (ch. 2). Scholars have debated whether the dis-
tinction of “I” and “me” in this sentence is merely proper grammar (e. g.
Kjellberg 1993) or the expression of a differentiation between two differ-
ent kinds of self (see Wu 1990).
I argue that using Sartre’s distinction between ego and conscious-
ness helps to clarify this question, and in turn the wholeZhuangzi. It is no
coincidence that a useful interpretation paradigm would arise within a
1 Among others, see Ames 1994; 1997; 1998; Ames and Hall 1993; 1998; 2008;
Elvin 1985; Hall 1994; Jochim 1998; Kjellberg and Ivanhoe 1990; Mollgard 2007;
Oshima 1983; Slingerland 2004; 2011; Wu 1990.
``
Libera, “Losing What ‘Me’?” / 23
school of thought so concerned with fighting the entification of the self.

In Existentialism, this is a reaction against a longstanding metaphysical
error (what Heidegger calls the “metaphysics of presence”), while for
Zhuangzi there is no need for such a reaction, as the error was not there
in the first place. Still, the philosophical result is functionally strikingly
similar. I wager that looking more closely at this similarity can bring out
part of the “‘common core’ or ‘deep grammar’ of human experience”
(Slingerland 2004, citing Deutsch 1992), both the foundation and the end
goal of comparative work.
Scholars have noted an affinity between the Zhuangzi and thinkers
classified as Existentialist at least from the 1960s (e.g., Fukunaga 1968).
Such writings, as most comparative work, usually belong to four catego-
ries or a fusion thereof: they cursorily note the resemblance between
their sensibilities, explore their reciprocal influences (see Reinhard 1996;
Herman 1996), draw parallel comparisons, or focus on a specific ques-
tion. 2 The last method is most useful when digging for the above-
mentioned core, and this paper adopts it as well.
Having said that, there has not been much in-depth comparative
work regarding Existentialism as a school of thought, if we can even
identify it as such. This may partly be because of its multifaceted nature,
as even some of its main representatives famously reject the affiliation.
For this reason, most comparative research focuses on one specific think-
er (e. g., Parkes 1987; 1992), which is often good practice. However,
sometimes individual thinkers have weaknesses later resolved by their
fellows (e. g., Merleau-Ponty’s critique and evolution of Sartre’s thought),
which is why a rational reconstruction of the core philosophy of Existen-
tialism may be a more fruitful starting point, even if it requires caution
(Cooper 1999).
Much has been written on thinkers like Nietzsche and Heidegger
and the resonance of their thought with Daoist philosophy, as they share
many similar interests, for example concerning the use of language and
the role of reason.3 Not as much has been written about Sartre, and even
less in conjunction with Daoism and Zhuangzi. In addition, the few writ-
2See Parkes 2003, Wu 1986, Smith 2008, Ma 2014, Williams 2013, Liu 2011.
3For Nietzsche, see Hall 1984; Parkes 1983; Shang 2006. On Heidegger, see Heim
1984; Blahuta 1997; Froese 2006. For a discussion of language, see Burik 2010; on
reason, see Carr and Ivanhoe 2010.
ings directly addressing Sartre sometimes rely on faulty understandings

of the French philosopher (e. g., Liu 2011). Here this narrower focus can
lead to valuable insights.
The Equivalence of Different “Me”

Zhuangzi’s conception of the “me” (wo 我) as opposed to the “I” (wu 吾)4
is key to understanding his view of the common man, his explanation of
self-imposed slavery and alienation, the method he proposes for reunit-
ing with the world, and his idea of the resulting freedom.
Although the ramifications of this distinction appear in all the Inner
Chapters, it is most explicit in the “Qiwulun.”
Ziqi of the Southern Wall was reclining against a low table on the ground,
releasing his breath into Heaven above, all in a scatter, as if loosed from a
partner.
Yancheng Ziyou stood in attendance before him. “What has happened
here?” he asked. “Can the body really be made like dried wood, the mind
like dead ashes? What reclines against this table now is not what reclined
against it before.”
Ziqi replied, “A good question, Yan! What has happened here is simply
that I have lost me.” (Ziporyn 2009, 9)
That Ziqi’s story opens the chapter is no coincidence. Its structure,

though seemingly fragmented and sometimes redundant, represents
what can be taken as a systematic argument. First, its scattered appear-
ance is by no means an accident. The winding reasoning and the partly
overlapping episodes are the best way to achieve the first of the chapter’s
goals, which is to deconstruct preconceptions and shake the bases of ar-
gumentation itself. Second, the whole “Qiwulun” serves to lay out the
4 This translation of the two characters is specific to this passage. It is by no

means how the two characters should generally be interpreted. Even in the
Zhuangzi the character wo 我 sometimes means “I,” not “me,” and the same goes
for wu 吾. As Kjellberg points out, we should not conclude that Zhuangzi is ex-
pressing “a developed theory of two levels of the self, for which wu and wo are
technical terms,” especially since there is a grammatical explanation for the dis-
tinction, as “the word wu cannot function as the object of a verb unless pre-posed
after a negation” (1993).
``
philosophical foundations to finally answer the question asked at its very

beginning: What does “I have lost me” actually mean?
This relates to the line of reasoning underlying the chapter’s many
allegories. To begin, Zhuangzi presents the sage who loses his “me” (as
opposed to his “self”) and lets him explain the “piping of heaven.” Then
he describes people who still have not lost their “me,” and therefore are
alienated from the world. After stressing that ordinary people’s agitation
is caused by their “me”, the chapter explains that “me” indicates the
“fixed heartmind” (chengxin 成心). This “me” produces the distinction
between “this” and “that” (bici 彼此), i. e., us and what is not us, what is
other, as well as the distinction between “this” and “that,” which pro-
duces value judgments (shifei 是非). Last, value judgments produce likes
and dislikes, and thus the desire for profit and fear of death. The logical
sequence can be summarized as: me (the fixed heartmind)—this and
that—value judgments—likes and dislikes.5
Zhuangzi’s idea of chengxin comes from the two-tiered conception
of the heartmind characteristic of early Daoism.6 According to this con-
ception, the heartmind consists of two strata, “fixed” and “constant”
(changxin 常心) (see Zheng 2003; Kang 1956). Essentially, they indicate that
there is a “heartmind in the heartmind.”7 The fixed one is the result of an
entrenchment of preconceptions, which produces a fixed shape (thus its
name), while the constant one is shapeless and thus the only way to ap-
proach Dao. The Zhuangzi has many vivid descriptions of the chengxin,
including “a heart clogged by weeds and brambles” and thus unable to
adapt to the constant transformations in the world, and the “heart close
to death”—caged for too long and seemingly unable to recover its former
freedom.
Zhuangzi further develops this view of the heartmind by expound-
ing its consequences on the self, which also has constant and fixed forms.
5 Wang Fuzhi’s holds that value judgments are the product of “knowledge” (zhi
知) (2009), but if we accept Mengzi’s definition of zhi there is no need to retain
the distinction.
6 This includes the Laozi and some chapters of the Guanzi, “Neiye” and
“Xinshuxia,” although the latter is not usually classified as Daoist. See Zheng
2003.
7 A similar concept with a different connotation appears in chapter 12, where a
gardener mentions having “a machine heart in your breast.”

These derive from the two strata of the heartmind, and map to the “I”
and “me” of “I lose me.” The “I” is the deeper level, mostly akin to con-
sciousness, while the “fixed me” (成我 chengwo) comes from the ossifica-
tion of an originally transient state. Due to its acquired fixity, people con-
fuse it with consciousness and thus come to see it as the most precious
thing they have: they think it is who they are. More importantly, having
lost the ability to change their view of the world and themselves, they
cannot but be slave to their fixed me. Such a devolved state is what the
“Qiwulun” calls chengxin. The subtle difference between chengxin and
chengwo is that the former is the generic state of atrophy, while the latter
is its result. In other words, the fixed me is the instance of a fixed heart-
mind specific to the individual.
One of Zhuangzi’s main goals is to get rid of these weeds suffocat-
ing the heartmind. The “Qiwulun” achieves this goal by deconstructing
the uniqueness of the me and its fixity. It does so by first arguing for the
equivalence of different value judgments, and then deducing the equiva-
lence of different “me,” which are both the source of value judgments
and their sum. The only exception to their equivalence is their harmful
nature: the only valid criterion to reject a value judgment and the me it
springs from is whether they are harmful to oneself or to the world. Yet,
these two forms of harm are actually one because they are both conse-
quences of going against nature or Dao: we cannot harm things without
harming ourselves. This point also foreshadows Zhuangzi’s ultimate aim,
the reunion of man and the world.
If one me is not unique or superior to another, why would anyone
choose a harmful set of values? Moreover, if life’s purpose is happiness,
why would one choose values that run contrary to it? Why would any-
one come to consider not changing values as more important than lead-
ing a happy life?
This is because we do not think we have a choice. The me’s appar-
ent fixity is the real issue. People do not choose to change their values
even at the cost of their happiness because they identify with their values.
Their specific values seem to constitute their identity and separate them
from others. The Zhuangzi tries to free people from this misconception,
and to show that this kind of “fixed heartmind” is just a state of atrophy,
the abandonment of which would not be a loss for consciousness. Con-
``
sciousness is empty and has no qualms about shedding its temporary

characteristics, it “accepts the minor shift as long as the all-important
constant is not lost” (ch. 21) (Watson 2013, 170).
The Emptiness of the Ego

Given this understanding of “me,” what does it actually mean to lose it,
and how is it possible? What does this entail for our identity and our
values? And how should we distinguish consciousness from the fixed
me?
Zhuangzi’s attack on the “me” does not stop at proving the equiva-
lence of different “me,” nor at showing that one specific me is not intrin-
sic to our identity. In fact, he goes one step further and doubts its authen-
ticity, its substantiality, or at least the possibility for us to know it as if it
were “internal.” He says,
Moreover, people identify each other as 'I,' but how do we know that what
we call 'I' may not really be 'I'? You may dream that you are a bird and
streak across the sky, that you are a fish and descend to the depths. We
cannot determine whether we who are speaking now are awake or dream-
ing. (ch. 6; Mair 1997, 62)
Although the passage uses the character wu 吾, clearly it is referring

to the “me” of “I lose me.” The story of Yan Hui and the fasting of the
mind, a prime method for losing the “me,” is another demonstration of
how Zhuangzi sees the “me” as not essential, meaning both not neces-
sary and without essence.
Yan Hui said, “Before I find what moves me into activity, it is myself that is
full and real. But as soon as I find what moves me, it turns out that ‘myself’
has never begun to exist. Is that what you mean by being empty’?” (Zi-
poryn 2009, 27)
However, the Zhuangzi does not say anything specific about con-
sciousness or about the mechanisms through which the fixed me is born.
This silence has the same reasons of the silence on Dao: it is something
that words, as an expression of rational ideas, can hardly represent. Both
consciousness and Dao are something that can be experienced, that can
be known, but not by rational knowledge, not through ideas. We might
draw a parallel between this experience and body thinking, like the
Zhuangzi itself does in its many tales of artisans, to discourage any mys-
tical tendencies in its interpretation. Though it does not speak about the
nature of consciousness, it speaks about it by describing its manifesta-
tions, similarly to its indirect descriptions (or non-descriptions) of Dao.
To better understand the conception of heartmind that underlies
Zhuangzi’s philosophy, Sartre’s theory of consciousness can make a
valuable contribution despite the fact that, in general, bringing Western
conceptual tools to early China is problematic because of the West’s
tendencies toward dualism, individualism, and abstraction of mind.
These tendencies are mostly absent in early Chinese thought, which
inclines towards a syncretic, integrative view of the individual as indi-
visible from world, society, and body. For example, the use of the word
“heartmind” is an effort to avoid our tendencies to think of a disem-
bodied, rational mind. Existentialist thought confronts these tendencies
head on; its core mission is to melt the separation between humanity
and world, mind and body, value judgments, rational thinking and
emotions. 8 Heidegger’s Dasein provides a salient example, trying to
leave behind the subject-object split in favor of just being-in-the-world.
For these reasons, Sartre’s theory of consciousness can help us
clarify the phenomenological basis of Zhuangzi’s thought. Even if the
two philosophers are separated by great distances in both space and
time, and their thought exhibits evident differences, Sartre’s distinction
between consciousness and the ego bears striking similarity to
Zhuangzi’s division of “I” and “me” at the beginning of the “Qiwulun”,
especially regarding their functions.
According to Sartre, the ego is the result of consciousness trying
to reflect and look upon itself. However, this kind of self-reflection is
impossible, since all consciousness is positional (meaning of or about
something), and self-reflection would require consciousness to alienate
itself. That is why the ego is basically a person’s consciousness as seen
8This seems like a reason to differentiate Camus from the typical existentialist,
though the latter is just a rational reconstruction, because one of the ways of life
he proposes (possibly the main way) is not giving in to reconciling ourselves
with the world. For a discussion on this point, and what a “typical existentialist”
might be, see Cooper 1999.
``
from the outside, and not from the inside as people usually think. This
explains why we cannot have a full understanding of ourselves, but
must get to know ourselves through exploration (Sartre 2004).
Since people are only explicitly aware of themselves reflectively,
thus seeing themselves from the outside as an ego, it is easy to see how
we come to identify ourselves with the latter. This misconception leads
to another mistake, whose consequences are graver: since the ego is an
object to consciousness and cannot reveal its spontaneity and freedom,
as it is only a rational reconstruction in the Bergsonian sense, people
come to see themselves as having the same nature of things, as measur-
able puppets of their essence, unable to change the course of their ex-
istence. This means that we end up being the slaves of the conception
we have of ourselves, because consciousness cannot be seen from the
outside, just as our body as seen in a mirror is just a pale reflection of
our body as experienced. According to this theory of consciousness, the
ego is merely an empty vessel, a subjective container to one’s own
spontaneity that can be shaped to one’s volition and can be discarded
without melancholy. Any fondness toward it is not only unjustified,
but can be harmful and self-defeating.
More specifically, using Sartre’s terminology, the “I” in “I lose
me” can be explained as consciousness itself, while the “me” is the ob-
ject of reflective consciousness (the ego). Sartre believes that in our
basic state we are not conscious of a self and of its objects, but there is
only a consciousness of those objects. The ego only emerges after self-
reflection, before which there is only a spontaneous, transparent, self-
owned consciousness.
This does not mean that pre-reflective consciousness is completely
unaware of itself, however, because “every positional consciousness of
an object is at the same time a non-positional consciousness of itself.”
(1993, 19–20). To understand this cryptic statement, Sartre provides a
vivid, easy to grasp example describing a person running after the tram.
When I run after a tram, when I look at the time, when I become ab-
sorbed in the contemplation of a portrait, there is no I. There is a con-
sciousness of the tram-needing-to-be-caught, etc., and a non-positional
consciousness of consciousness. In fact, I am then plunged into the world
of objects, it is they which constitute the unity of my consciousnesses,
which present themselves with values, attractive and repulsive values,
but as for me, I have disappeared, I have annihilated myself. There is no

place for me at this level, and this is not the result of some chance, some
momentary failure of attention: it stems from the very structure of con-
sciousness. (2004, 8)
This passage illustrates non-positional consciousness and the

steps that lead to the realization of its existence: first, when I run after
the tram I am not the explicit object of my consciousness; only after
reflecting on my chances of catching it do “I” appear. Nevertheless,
even if there is only a consciousness of running after the tram, I am still
conscious of myself, because a consciousness of things must have a
point of view, and thus being conscious of things means being con-
scious of the point of view on those things. Consequently, even if I am
not the object of my consciousness, through the consciousness of other
objects I am nevertheless conscious of my consciousness.
This leads to three conclusions: first, consciousness is always con-
scious of itself; second, consciousness of itself is non-positional; and
third, non-positional consciousness is always there and cannot be ab-
sent as it is the core of our being and our experience, but the same can-
not be said for reflective consciousness. In addition, reflective and pre-
reflective consciousness are exclusive. These elements have a very im-
portant consequence: the subject of non-positional consciousness and
the object of reflective consciousness are not the same thing. In other
words, the “I” reflecting on the “me” and the “me” being reflected up-
on must be qualitatively different, because as Zhuangzi says, the “I” is
unknowable, at least as an object.
Sartre was not the first person to distinguish the two. His contri-
bution in The Transcendence of the Ego is to show how consciousness can
simultaneously be positional and non-positional. While he agrees with
Husserl that consciousness must be intentional (positional or thetic), he
asks how it can at the same time be non-positionally conscious of itself.
The answer has to do with the nature of positional consciousness itself.
Things as objects of consciousness are transcendent, they overflow be-
yond any specific consciousness, and there is no all-encompassing
point of view. This is consistent with Zhuangzi’s perspectivism, and it
is one of the differences between human beings and Dao: Dao is with-
out any particular point of view.
``
Since consciousness limits and shapes the way I perceive things,

although things are its object, at the same time I am conscious of how
my consciousness is conscious of things, and thus my consciousness of
things endows me with a non-positional consciousness of myself. Be-
cause of this, Heidegger talks of the world as the basis to know oneself
(as being-in-the-world). Consciousness can be both positional and non-
positional because of the different directions of these two modes: posi-
tional consciousness points towards transcendent things, and non-
positional consciousness points towards itself. Nevertheless, the latter
derives from the former, and the former can’t be without the latter.
Like Zhuangzi, Sartre does not stop at distinguishing consciousness
and the ego. He also maintains that the latter is not a real thing, but
merely the result of consciousness trying to substantiate its spontaneity.9
Heidegger similarly opposes the tendency to hypostatize the ego: “When
we say that Dasein understands its self, its own self, we must not rest
this on some fabricated concept of soul, person or ego, but must see in
what self-understanding the factical Dasein moves in its everyday exist-
ence” (Heidegger 1988, 160).
Both Zhuangzi and Existentialism hold that the ego is not the active
creator of perceptions, but merely one of their objects. In fact, the ego is
consciousness’s representation of itself, and as such it can only be partial
and limited to a point of view. Consciousness can only base this repre-
sentation of itself on its past and present behaviors and states; a repre-
sentation thus obtained can only yield a thing governed by its circum-
stances. This “thing” is the ego, and its opacity is one of the reasons that
demonstrate its transcendence. This is to say that because it is similar to
9 “The Ego is an object apprehended but also constituted by reflective knowledge.

It is a virtual locus of unity, and consciousness constitutes it as going in com-
pletely the reverse direction from that followed by real production; what is really
first is consciousnesses, through which are constituted states, then, through these,
the Ego. But, as the order is reversed by a consciousness that imprisons itself in
the World to flee from itself, consciousnesses are given as emanating from states,
and states as produced by the Ego. As a result, consciousness projects its own
spontaneity into the object Ego so as to confer on it the creative power that is
absolutely necessary to it. However, this spontaneity, represented and hyposta-
tized in an object, becomes a bastard, degenerate spontaneity, which magically
preserves its creative potentiality while becoming passive. Hence the profound
irrationality of the notion of Ego” (2004, 20).
external things it cannot be immediately and comprehensively known,

but must be explored and perceived.10
The paradox of the ego is thus laid bare: its nature is similar to a
thing with an essence, but its function is similar to a consciousness with-
out essence. That is because, after consciousness has fashioned and dis-
covered the ego, we take the latter to be the subject of our existence, in-
stead of our consciousness. As Sartre says, “It is thus exactly as if con-
sciousness constituted the Ego as a false representation of itself, as if con-
sciousness hypnotized itself before this Ego which it has constituted, be-
came absorbed in it, as if it made the Ego its safeguard and its law” (Sar-
tre 2004, 28).
This process and its result are exactly the root of the disease
Zhuangzi wants to cure. “Taking the fixed heartmind as one’s teacher”
means raising the “me” above the “I,” let it be king, and make con-
sciousness its slave, self-fettered, and without freedom. In that case a
human really is the shadow of a shadow;11 moreover, the shadow is self-
cast, and man does not know. Zhuangzi’s philosophy sheds light on the
ego to show its evanescent nature.
10 “Let us note only the reason for the transcendence of the Ego: as a unify-
ing pole of Erlebnisse the Ego is in-itself, not for-itself. If it were of the nature of
consciousness, in fact, it would be to itself its own foundation in the translucency
of the immediate. But then we would have to say that is it what it is not and that
it is not what it is, and this is by no means the mode of being of the “I.” In fact
the consciousness which I have of the “I” never exhausts it, and consciousness is
not what causes it to come into existence; the “I” is always given as having been
there before consciousness-and at the same time as possessing depths which
have to be revealed gradually. Thus the Ego appears to consciousness as a trans-
cendent in-itself, as an existent in the human world, not as of the nature of con-
sciousness” (1993, 102-03).
11 The “Qiwulun” has: “Penumbra said to Shadow, ‘A little while ago you
were walking and now you're standing still; a little while ago you were sitting
and now you're standing up. Why this lack of independent action?’ Shadow said,
‘Do I have to wait for something before I can be like this? Does what I wait for
also have to wait for something before it can be like this? Am I waiting for the
scales of a snake or the wings of a cicada? How do I know why it is so? How do I
know why it isn't so?’” (Watson 2013, 17-18).
``
Loss of Me Is Not Absence of Me

Sartre describes consciousness as sometimes manifesting “perhaps not
without the ego, but overflowing the ego on all sides, dominating it and
supporting it outside itself by a continuous creation” (2004, 28). As this
passage notes, the “egoless consciousness” is not really without ego, but
never forgets that the ego is a creation of consciousness, as it derives
from the latter’s point of view.
For example, consciousness cannot change its past perceptions, and
past experiences already have shaped the ego to a certain extent. Because
of this we often do not realize that we can change our view of the past.
Changing our evaluation of the past means changing the ego that the
very same past shapes. This is because the ego is shaped by the signifi-
cance we give to our past experiences, and not by those experiences
themselves.12 Common sense often holds the opposite, namely that it is
the ego that bestows significance.
Given this conception of the ego, how do we regain our freedom?
Merleau-Ponty’s famous chapter “Freedom” in Phenomenology of Percep-
tion is relevant here. It associates freedom with our innate “power to re-
fuse”: everyone can consider anew their understanding of the world, and
in so doing refuse their current structure of significance to adopt a new
existential project (2002). As Sartre’s has it, “Since I am free, I project my
total possible, but I thereby posit that I am free and that I can always ni-
hilate this first project and make it past” (1993, 480). Of course, that does
not mean we continuously choose ourselves, as that would be incompat-
ible with our daily experience. Merleau-Ponty notes, “It must not be said
that I continually choose myself on the pretext that I could continually
refuse who I am. But not refusing is not a choice” (2002, 479).
In addition, adopting a new “me” is by no means an instantaneous
proposition; how could one refuse one’s “me” and the world that springs
from it in one fell swoop? Using Neurath’s famous boat metaphor, if the
sailor at sea wants to repair his boat he must change one board at a time.
He cannot change them all at once, or he would not have anything to
12We should note that from a phenomenological perspective a person’s experi-

ences cannot be separated from their significance; the two are one.
stand on.13 The person who has not lost his “me” takes himself to be the
boat, unable to repair itself; if so my shape is decided, I have an essence,
there’s no way to change. That is the alienated person: a boat without
sailors. By losing the ego we wake up our sailor, bear in mind that we
have no essence, and that not only we can change our boat’s boards, but
through it we can gradually change the shape of the whole boat as well.
As for the relationship between the boards and the ship, how can
the sailor step from the board he is on to one newly placed? The two
planks are qualitatively different. Outside the metaphor, how can new
values become the criterion to evaluate current and past values?
Heidegger says, “The ready-to-hand is always understood in terms of a
totality of involvements. This totality need not be grasped explicitly by a
thematic interpretation. Even if it has undergone such an interpretation,
it recedes into an understanding, which does not stand out from the
background. And this is the very mode, in which it is the essential foun-
dation for everyday circumspective interpretation” (1962, 191).
Freedom according to Zhuangzi and the Existentialists, then, is not
the mystical creation of something out of nothing but the result of a
transformation, a concrete process that satisfies the law of the conserva-
tion of energy. It means a new ego can only result from another ego’s
transformation. This links “I lose me” to the monkey trainer “walking
two roads.”
A monkey trainer was distributing chestnuts. He said, “I will give you

three in the morning and four in the evening.” The monkeys were furious.
“Well then,” he said, “I will give you four in the morning and three in the
evening.” The monkeys were delighted.
This change of description and arrangement caused no loss, but in one
case it brought anger and in another delight. He just went by the rightness
of their present “this.” Thus, the sage uses various rights and wrongs to
harmonize with others and yet remains at rest in the middle of heaven the
Potter’s Wheel. This is called Walking Two Roads. (Ziporyn 2009, 14).
13“We are like sailors who on the open sea must reconstruct their ship but are
never able to start afresh from the bottom. Where a beam is taken away a new
one must at once be put there, and for this the rest of the ship is used as support.
In this way, by using the old beams and driftwood the ship can be shaped entire-
ly anew, but only by gradual reconstruction” (1921).
``
Chengxin in this light means the heartmind has hardened, has be-
come clogged by weeds: since I have taken my ego to be my whole self, I
cannot change it, I cannot walk two roads. “I lose me,” then, means real-
izing that the ego has no way of limiting my existence. In brief, abandon-
ing one road to walk two does not mean that consciousness remains
without any ego, because that would mean I am not walking any road.
We would not only be left “without me,” but without a person as well.
This also clarifies Zhuangzi’s comment that even if Liezi could ride
the wind he still had to depend on something. Maybe the reason why he
did not achieve the highest state of “not relying on anything” is not be-
cause he had not yet “piled up enough wind,” but because he is a person.
The same could be said of the spirit-man of Mt. Guye, “with skin like ice
and snow, gentle and yielding like a virgin girl. He does not eat the five
grains but rather feeds on the wind and dew. He rides upon the air and
clouds. This man is harmed by no thing” (Ziporyn 2009, 7). Although
Zhuangzi does not point out any shortcomings, the spirit man still has to
rely on wind and dew.
Even the big Peng bird is no exception: “Is azure the true color of
the sky? Or is the sky so distant that its farthest limits can never be
reached? When the Peng looks down at the sky from above, it must ap-
pear just the same as when we look up” (Mair 1997, 4). Even if the Peng
has liberated itself, even if it has risen, it still has a point of view, value
judgments, a “me.” However, this does not mean that the freedom of the
small and the big is the same if they accept their role, as Guo Xiang’s
commentary would have it.14 Though the big Peng and the little dove all
have their me, their state is qualitatively different: just as the Peng beats
the whirlwind and leaves the water behind, the sage awakens and leaves
behind his chengxin, but that does not mean he does not have a “me.” It
means that he is not limited by any one particular “me.”
14 “Though some are larger and some are smaller, every being without exception
is released into the range of its own spontaneous attainments, so that each being
relies on its own innate character, each deed exactly matching its own capabili-
ties. Since each fits perfectly into precisely the position it occupies, all are equally
far-reaching and unfettered. How could any one be superior to any other?” (Zi-
poryn 2009, 129).
Without a “me,” how can there be a person? If value judgments re-

ally are at the level of the ego and not of consciousness,15 if only con-
sciousness remains, then what is left? Not only that, value judgments
cannot be abandoned. Sartre in Being and Nothingness specifically points
out the error of believing value and consciousness emerge in succession.
“Value in its original upsurge is not posited by the for-itself; it is consub-
stantial with it—to such a degree that there is no consciousness which is
not haunted by its value and that human-reality in the broad sense in-
cludes both the for-itself and value. . . . Value is not the object of a thesis;
otherwise the for-itself would have to be a positional object to itself since
value and the for-itself can arise only in the consubstantial unity of a dy-
ad.”16
Is this a refutation of Zhuangzi’s conception of consciousness? The
“Qiwulun” says, “If one claims that right and wrong exist before they are
established in the mind, that is like saying one sets out for Viet today but
arrived there yesterday” (Mair 1997, 14). This means it is impossible for
value judgments to exist before a “me” has formed; it does not necessari-
ly imply that value comes after the ego. In other words, the sentence
does not make it clear whether the two emerge simultaneously or in suc-
cession; it only confirms that there can be no value without an ego.
15 The nature of the relationship between value judgments, consciousness and

the ego is a much debated topic. Though neurological studies are seemingly
helping the cause of the ego’s emptiness, their findings on value judgments
might make us doubt the possibility of having a say in their (and in our ego’s)
creation (see Slingerland 2014).
16 The full passage runs: “Value in its original upsurge is not posited by the for-
itself; it is consubstantial with it—a to such a degree that there is no conscious-

ness which is not haunted by its value and that human-reality in the broad sense
includes both the for-itself and value. If value haunts the for-itself without being
posited by it, this is because value is not the object of a thesis; otherwise the for-
itself would have to be a positional object to itself since value and the for-itself
can arise only in the consubstantial unity of a dyad. Thus the for-itself as a non-
thetic self-consciousness does not exist in the face of value in the sense that for
Leibniz the monad exists ‘alone in the face of God.’ Value therefore is not known
at this stage since knowledge posits the object in the face of consciousness. Value
is merely given with the non-thetic translucency of the for-itself, which makes
itself be as the consciousness of being” (1993, 94-95).
``
Regardless of the order of ego and values, people can never be

without value even for a moment. Speaking about the power to refuse,
Merleau-Ponty notes, “What exactly is this power? It is the power of be-
ginning something else, for we never remain suspended in nothing-
ness . . . just as a face, even in repose, even in death, is always doomed to
express something” (2002, 525). If this were not so, we would not be able
to interpret the world, which would mean there is no world. More cor-
rectly, people are a set of values, they do not just have them. Value is not
something that floats between me and the world, but it is the union be-
tween me and the world, it is my world. This is the existentialist’s version
of what Zhuangzi has in mind by writing that “heaven and earth were
born at the same time I was” (Watson 2013, 13). Not cutting apart self,
value, and world is also the impetus behind Heidegger’s coining of the
term “being-in-the-world,” his emphasis on unity and inseparability.
Based on this interpretation, the Qiwulun’s claim “that right and
wrong exist before they are established in the mind” seems contradictory.
If losing “me” and walking two roads mean being aware of the rootless-
ness of the ego and not depending on it, if people are able to change the
ego and rebuild themselves, does the sage still have value judgments
without a chengxin? That is indeed the case, and Zhuangzi accordingly
does not oppose value judgments as such. Rather, he opposes their petri-
fication, the fixity of the “me.”
It is, therefore, important to distinguish clearly between the “me”
and the fixed heartmind. The latter designates the loss of the ability to
freely wander between different temporary “me.” In this way, there is no
contradiction: just as the face cannot but have an expression, the sage
cannot be without temporary form, because he is still a person; but the
sage does not take his chengxin as his teacher, which means he does not
see his temporary form as a unique true self and he knows his ego can-
not determine his consciousness, thus his heartmind has no weeds and
he can wander between shapes.
Precisely for this reason, the “Qiwulun” goes on to say that, “if one
claims that right and wrong exist before they are established in the
mind, ...this is to make something out of nothing.” This does not only
mean that it is absurd, it also means that to take the fixed heartmind to
be our essence means taking it to be something, while it actually is noth-
ing, because it is just a temporary, mutable, even arbitrary shape. The
shape of water keeps changing with its container, so how can we say it is
“something”? Nevertheless, this does not mean that water has no tempo-
rary form; it has a shape at any given moment, but is shapeless in nature.
The sage is the same: he has a temporary “me” but is formless in nature.
Formless here means that he can change form.
To sum up, “losing me” does not mean the complete absence of
“me,” just as “walking two roads” does not mean standing still. The
trainer feeding the monkeys can give them three chestnuts in the morn-
ing and four in the evening, or vice versa, but he still has to feed them.
However, if everyone must walk, what is the difference between the
common person and the sage? The “Qiwulun” says, “Where ‘this’ and
‘that’ cease to be opposites, there lies the pivot of Dao. Only when the
pivot is located in the center of the circle of things can we respond to
their infinite transformations” (Mair 1997, 15).
When dwelling in Dao, at the center of things, we can choose any
direction as our path. However, does taking one step mean we leave the
center, lose our connection with Dao, and cannot respond to the world’s
transformations? Not at all. If at every moment we know that we have
the ability to change course, and that the inertia of previous steps can in
no way restrict this ability, how can we leave the center? In practice, I
can choose any set of value judgments, and as long as I don’t lose the
power to refuse, I can always return to “zero”. Borrowing from Confu-
cius, we could say, “Is the pivot of the Way a thing remote? I wish to be
in the pivot, and lo! The pivot is at hand.”17
In this light, the common person is one who has left the “pivot,” the
awakened person is someone able to return to it, while the sage never
leaves Dao wherever he goes. Because his steps match nature, he walks
in step with Dao. To a certain extent it seems that sage and commoner
are only divided by a quantitative difference. In reality, however, their
drawing near seems to be asymptotic. One of the possible interpretations
of the role of the perfect person in the Zhuangzi is that he or she repre-
sents an extreme level to strive for as we apply Zhuangzi’s methods in
daily life, yet may never be able to reach.
17As Legge’s translation of Lunyu 7 has, “Is virtue a thing remote? I wish to be
virtuous, and lo! Virtue is at hand.”
``
The story of Ziqi of the Southern Wall holds the key to understand-
ing the entire “Qiwulun” and is essential for understanding the Zhuangzi
as a whole. Why does Ziqi not answer directly Ziyou’s question—“Can
the body really be made like dried wood, the mind like dead ashes?”—
but uses the “piping of heaven” to explain? “The myriad sounds pro-
duced by the blowing of the wind are different, yet all it does is elicit the
natural propensities of the hollows themselves. What need is there for
something else to stimulate them?” (Mair 1997, 12).
Zhuangzi raises the piping of heaven to show that every hollow
produces a different sound because of its particular shape. As Zhu Xi
says, “If there is a fire with a person at each of its four sides facing it, the
fire is one, but its four sides are all different.” Similarly, the wind is one,
but its sounds are many; their difference lies with the hollows. In other
words, if value judgments are many and the world is one, the cause of
variety can only lie in the ego. However, this does not mean that the
myriad hollows can sing without wind or that they can sing “without
shape.” Similarly, a person cannot exist without ego (the hollow’s shape)
or without the world (the wind). “Heaven and earth were born at the
same time I was;” the myriad sounds are the union between hollow and
wind. That is the piping of heaven. The sound is not just the wind’s, the
hollow’s. It is not outside of them but in their union. The same goes for
the relationship between humans and the world—being-in-the-world.
What does this have to do with “losing me” and “walking two
roads”? It is because the difference in sound depends on the hollow’s
shape that we can make the body like dried wood, the mind like dead
ashes. In order to correctly understand this passage, we should be mind-
ful of the words “can be made like” (ke shi ru 可使如). The Zhuangzi does
in fact seem to advocate that joy and sorrow should have no way to seep
in (Ziporyn 2009, 24), but also points out “That's not what I mean by feel-
ings. When I talk about having no feelings, I mean that a man doesn't
allow likes or dislikes to get in and do him harm” (Watson 2013, 40-41).
Otherwise, as Hui Shi aptly asks, how can a man be without feelings?
What this passage and the “Qiwulun” demonstrate is that since the
world and I are one and I am able to shape “me,” I am also able to shape
the world through me. Zhuangzi does not advocate that having the
heartmind as dead ashes is a goal we should pursue. As said above, the
important thing is not the “pivot of Dao” itself, the calm and empty zero,
but the ability to return to it, because that means I “can be made like”
anything. That is the reason why Huzi is able to confound the shaman in
Zheng with his myriad transformations (ch. 7).
In this framework, being able to make the heart like dead ashes is
the actual basis for the power to refuse, because for us it is not only an
unreachable endpoint, but the first step toward transformation and free-
dom. Explaining the loss of “me” through the piping of heaven, then, has
three steps. First, if there are wind and hollows, there will be sound; if
there are things and people, there will be value judgments. Second, hol-
lows and wind must produce sound, but not necessarily one specific
sound, because each sound depends on the hollow’s shape; in the same
way, people cannot be without value judgments, but there is no need for
one specific set of value judgments, because value depends on the ego.
Last, if the hollows “each can be itself” and “all take what they want for
themselves,”18 one’s ego can be lost, and we can return to the pivot. We
can reshape ourselves to “respond to the infinite transformations.”
Changing Me Without Regret

While Sartre’s description of pre-reflective consciousness is somewhat
questionable, since its absolute spontaneity and other characteristics
seem to exceed the bounds of phenomenological provability, his distinc-
tion of consciousness and ego and the explanation of their relationship
make good sense. His contribution in this area consists in ridding “ego-
less” philosophy of its mysticism and letting it spring from a purely ex-
periential analysis. Being without a hypostatized ego, for Sartre, does not
exceed the realm of experience, and the resulting unity does not require
any mystical elements.
Our understanding of the Zhuangzi should follow a similar line of
reasoning, in order to avoid being misled by its poetic words and fantas-
tical allegories. First, this existential interpretation matches the two-
tiered conception of the heartmind characteristic of early Daoism. Second,
Zhuangzi and certain existentialists like Heidegger and Sartre take con-
sciousness without a hypostatized ego as our original state, and not as
18
This follows Watson’s translation, which puts more emphasis on the “self”
meaning of zi 自, instead of on its “natural” sense (2013, 8).
``
something reached after getting rid of our dispositions. Because of this

very reason wuwo (no “me”) does not really the mean absence of “me,”
but indicates that, although the individual always has an ego, he or she is
not restricted to it because it is a creation of fluid and ever-changing con-
sciousness. If it seems that only the ego remains, it is because conscious-
ness has shrouded itself, lost its function, been covered by weeds and
brambles, unable to adapt to change. Alienation means developing a
fixed heartmind, then taking it to be real. In this light, having too many
desires is not due to an ego that has grown oversized, but to one that has
been subject to substantialization and objectification.
Sartre’s and Zhuangzi’s philosophies differ here: to Sartre, because
the ego is not an essence, the self can only be a process, not a substance,
and the individual is always at the crossroads between possible and real.
This means the for-itself craves to become a thing, to have an unchang-
ing essence like the myriad things, without the burden of freely creating
itself. However, becoming a thing is impossible for it because the essence
of being human is to have no essence. In this case, the individual seems
to live between two fires: on one hand, if I accept the dominion of my
ego, I have no way to be free and can only live in alienation, unable to
experience my full existence; on the other hand, if I accept the absolute
freedom and creativity of my consciousness, I face the anxiety of infinite
possibilities without a home to return to.
Other existentialist thinkers have criticized Sartre’s thought on this
matter, especially Merleau-Ponty: although realizing that the ego I relied
upon for so long is merely a model drawn upon shaky evidence is in-
deed a daunting discovery, it is not as dreadful as Sartre makes it out to
be. Zhuangzi himself would not agree with Sartre’s description of the
second choice: the reason why people should want to lose their “me” is
the suffering caused by it, yet the state achieved after losing the “me”
should be free from anxiety, or at least the process itself should be no
cause of dread; if “losing me” seems like sacrificing part of myself it is
only because I still nurse feelings of affection towards the false ego.
Although the ego is the only knot that we really need to unravel, at
the same time it is a bond that every person can scarcely bear to get rid
of, because it can give us a passive sense of security. As the child does
not need to decide the direction of his life, but can entrust the responsi-
bility to his parents, we can entrust our decision-making power to our
hypostatized ego, and live under its control without care. Allowing the
ego to be our life’s autopilot is a tendency every person faces; but the
only way to take life in our hands and be as awake as Zhuangzi is to ac-
cept that there are more important things than our ego. If the prospect of
a free life is not enough to get us to change ourselves, the pain the ego
creates is undoubtedly a compelling reason. Even so, though after hav-
ing seen the root of the problem with clarity it is easy to accept Zhuang-
zi’s advice, no matter how much we might agree with him putting our
ego behind is still easier said than done.
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Daoist Seals
Part 2: Classifying Different Types
SHIH-SHAN SUSAN HUANG 1

Abstract
This second part of the study of Daoist seals focuses on types, building on Wang
Yucheng’s earlier studies. They come in four: 1) seal script; 2) heavenly scripts; 3)
talisman-inspired; and 4) graphic. The underlining criterion is the Daoist strategy
of image-making: it sheds light on the interlocking relationship of Daoist texts
and images. The first type is purely script-based, while the fourth is purely
graphic. Between the two is the core zone of Daoist visual culture as it blends
image with text.
The first Daoist seal typology goes back to Wang Yucheng 王育成, who
reproduced over 260 seals mainly from the Daoist Canon—Song and
post-Song, some Tang—and created a comprehensive index of titles and
references (2000, 58-75; 2001, 472-93). He divided them into four types: 1)
seal script style (zhuanshu shi 篆書式); 2) talismanic seal script style (fu-
zhuan shi 符篆式); 3) seal imitating a talisman (daofu shi 道符式); 4) and
talismanic graphic style (futushi 符圖式) (2000, 54-55; 2001, 470-71; cf. Li
2003b, 78).
1
I would like to thank Chen Yun-ru, He Yan-chiuan, Fang Ling-guang, Chen
Chien-chih, Hsu Ya-hwei, Hsieh Shu-wei, Sakai Norifumi, and Ma Xiaolin for
their input. I also thank Jesse Green, who edited this article at its early stage.
46
Huang, “Daoist Seals” / 47
While these types are useful, they also beg for further clarification.
First, Wang does not sort out the seal specimens he reproduces accord-
ing to his types; rather, he lays out numbered seals according to the radi-
cal order of their titles. In addition, the titles of the four types he pro-
posed suggest overlapping concepts, making it hard to distinguish one
group from another. All this makes it challenging for readers to grasp
the relationship between the types of seals and their visual appearance.
In addition, Li Yuanguo 李遠國 and Lu Kunyong 盧崑永 reconfig-
ured over 200 visual samples of Daoist ritual seals, re-drawn from the
Ming Daoist Canon as well as stamped replicas of Ming-Qing copper
seals in private collections (2002, 1-12). The authors chart the types of
Daoist ritual seals into two major parts. The first, sub-divided into 78
kinds, sorts out seals based on the names of divinities associated with
them plus their ritual function in summoning gods and subjugating de-
mons (2002, 48-198). The second, containing 53 kinds, showcases seals of
Daoist celestial bureaus, and ritual seals bearing charms and citations
from scriptures (2002, 209-326). While the juxtaposition of one-to-two
visual samples with pertinent citations from Daoist texts makes this
study a useful handbook, the two-part types entail certain overlapping
especially regarding the seals’ ritual functions and thus is confusing.2
The visual criteria underlining the types of Daoist seals, are missing.
Building on the aforementioned scholarship, I divide Daoist seals
into four types: 1) seal script; 2) heavenly scripts; 3) talisman-inspired;
and 4) graphic. My revised types stress the Daoist strategy of image-
making, and the interlocking relationship of Daoist text and image.3 The
first type is purely script-based, moving toward the fourth type, which is
purely graphic. What sets between the two categories is, in fact, the core
zone of Daoist visual culture blending image with text.
2 For example, the Seal of the Office of the Northern Pole for Expelling Perversi-
ties (Beiji quxie yuan yin 北極驅邪院印), categorized under Part 2, is used for
summoning gods and subjugating demons—a criterion associated with seals
labeled as Part 1. Equally problematic is the Seal of the Departments of the Mes-
sengers of the Five Thunders (Wulei shi yuan yin 五雷使院印), classified under
Part 2, which is noted for its power of summoning the heavenly army and subju-
gating the poisoned dragons (Li and Lu 2002, 211-15, 230-33).
3 For more discussions of Daoist imagetexts, see Huang 2012, 11, 14, 21, 136, 139,
149, 154, 158, 165, 185, 232, 344. Also, see Huang 2017, 72, 96.
Seals in Seal Script

Seals in seal script style occupy the smallest group of samples in the Dao-
ist Canon.4 Compared to other types, they are most legible and reflect
Daoism’s close relationship to mainstream seal culture current at that
time. They typically evoke the judicial authorities in charge of major ce-
lestial bureaus crucial to Daoist rituals, such as the Seal of the Office of
the Northern Pole for Expelling Perversities (Beiji quxie yuanyin 北極驅邪
院印) (Fig. 1a), Seal of the Great Master of the Law of the Capital Heaven
(Dutian dafazhu yin 都天大法主印) (Fig. 1b), Seal of the Office of the
Heavenly Pivot of the High Clarity (Shangqing tianshu yuanyin 上清天樞
院印) (Fig. 1c), and so on. These examples are all cited from Song texts,
including the early twelfth century (ca. 1116) Zhuguo jiumin biyao 助國救
民秘要 (DZ 1227; Skar 2000, 433-34) and the Southern Song Tianshuyuan
zhengfa 天樞院正法 (DZ 549; Andersen in Schipper and Verellen, eds.,
2004, 1068-70).5
a. b. c.
Fig. 1: Daoist ritual seals in seal script style. —a-b. Zhuguo jiumin biyao, DZ 1227,
32: 61; c. Tianshuyuan zhengfa, DZ 549, 10: 474.
420 seals of this category are reproduced in Wang 2000, 58-75; 2001, 472-93.
5The seals reproduced in Fig. 1a-c are from Wang’s seals nos. 95, 180, 35 repro-
duced in Wang 2000, 66, 69, 72. For other seals featuring celestial bureaus, also
rendered in seal script style, see Seal of the Office of the Refinement in the Upper
Palace of the Nanchang (Nanchang shanggong shouliansi yin 南昌上宮受錬司印),
Wushang huanglu dazhai lichengyi, DZ 508, 9: 630; Seal of the Lord of the Dao
(Daojun yuyin 道君玉印), Shangqing lingbao dafa, DZ 1221, 30: 902; Seal of the Im-
mortal Capital of the Nine Elders (Jiulao xiandu zhi yin 九老仙都之印), Sanhuang
neiwen yimi, DZ 856, 18: 583.
``
Beyond seals directly linked to ritual functions, seals marking the

identities of Daoist masters—which individuals may have used as per-
sonal seals or for other religious functions—were often rendered in seal
script style. For example, the personal seals stating different style names
and Daoist titles of the Jin-dynasty Daoist Yan Deyuan 閻德源 (1094–
1189), discovered in his tomb in Datong, Shanxi (Fig. 2a) (Datongshi 1978,
4; Wang 2000, 5), and the Seal of the Great Patriarch of Xuanjiao Daoism
(Xuanjiao dazongshi yin 玄教大宗師印) of the renown Yuan-dynasty
Daoist Wu Quanjie 吳全節 (1269–1346) (Fig. 2b) were all in seal script
style. The four seals excavated from Daoist Yan’s tomb bear various style
names evoking his Daoist identity, such as “Teacher of the Ten-Foot
Chamber of the Jade Void” (Yuxu zhangshi laoshi 玉虛丈室老師) and
“Dragon Mount Daoist” (Longshan daoren 龍山道人).
Fig. 2a. Personal Seals of Yan Deyuan.
An unusual Daoist seal in seal script style was discovered accom-

panied by a colophon of the late Yuan-to-early Ming Shangqing Daoist
master Chen Tianyin 陳天尹 (Fig. 2c; Liaoning 2015, 203). It appears as
part of a little-studied handscroll known as the “Scroll of Colophons in
Honor of Zhou Wen-ying” (Zhou Wenying tiba juan 周文英題跋卷) in the
Liaoning Provincial Museum collection (Yang 1979; Wang 2000, 8). As-
sembling a letter, a poem, a tomb epitaph, and a biography, the materials
were written by different hands by late Yuan Daoist literati, including
Yang Weizhen 楊維禎 (1296-1370) and Ni Zan 倪瓚 (1301-74), in memory
of their deceased friend Zhou Wenying 周文英.
Master Chen inscribed his colophons twice, both before and after Ni
Zan’s colophon. He stamped various Daoist seals alongside his colo-
phons, including the seal in seal script style, which accompanied his sec-
ond colophon. It reads, “Seal of the Lord of the Immortal Capital of the
Nine Elders” (Jiulao xiandu jun yin 九老仙都君印) (Fig. 2c). 6 In Master
Chen’s words, this and the other seal he stamped below it were “the
seals inherited from the founder” (zuyin 祖印), suggesting that they may
be older seals transmitted from earlier Shangqing Daoists. Wang
Yucheng further linked the seal to a now-lost Northern Song seal bearing
the same name and made by the Shangqing Daoist Liu Hunkang 劉混康
(1036-1108) upon Emperor Huizong’s 徽宗 (r. 1100-1126) request (Wang
2000, 95; Maoshan yuanfu guan song bei 茅山元符觀頌碑, Maoshanzhi, DZ
304, 5: 664; Ebrey 2008, 67-68; 2011; 2014, 131-59).
Figs. 2b-c Personal Seals of Daoists in Script Style
The seals selected from the Daoist Canon (Fig. 1a-c) as well as that
of Master Chen (Fig. 2c) are all rendered in the so-called layered seal
script (diezhuan 曡篆), a style newly developed in Song-Yuan govern-
mental sealing culture (Fig. 3a-b). Its trademark is the evenly arranged
“spiral effect.” By transforming what may originally be single straight
6 For more on samples and functions of the seal of the Nine Elders of the Immor-
tal Capital of the High Clarity, see Wang 2000, 94-96; 2001, 495-97.
``
lines into spirals, it creates rhythmic layers and an overall grander visual
effect (Lu 2009).
One of the earliest governmental seals best representing this trend is
Emperor Huizong’s Seal of the Inner Court Library (Neifu tushu zhi yin 内
府圖書之印) (Figs. 3a), a Northern Song imperial seal used at the court of
Emperor Huizong to authenticate selected paintings and calligraphic
pieces in the imperial collection.7 Numerous other official seals dated to
the Liao, Jin (Jing et al., 2007), Xi Xia, and Yuan periods that imperial
courts and peripheral bureaus used join this prestigious group. This in-
cludes the oft-cited Yuan imperial seal that reads “Treasures of Tianli”
(Tianli zhi bao 天曆之寳) (Fig. 3b; Liao 2016, 93-94), that appears frequent-
ly on masterpieces of painting and calligraphy once collected at the court
of Emperor Wenzong 元文宗 (1304-32). All this leads to the so-called
“nine-layered seal script” (jiudiezhuan 九曡篆) in Ming governmental
seals.8
Fig. 3a-b: Imperial seals in layered seal script style-a. Seal of the Inner Bureau
Library, Northern Song, on the Tang calligraphy Jilong song by Emperor
Xuanzong. National Palace Museum, Taipei. b. Treasures of Tianli, Yuan dynasty,
on the Northern Song painting, Five-colored parakee by Huizong’s court. Museum
of Fine Arts, Boston (Liao 2016, 94).
7 For more on Song imperial seals, including the “Shangshusheng” 尚書省 seals
and the standard mounting format used at Emperor Huizong’s court, see Peng
2008, 2009; Wang Y. 2004; Barnhart 1983; Ebrey 2008, 114-21. Emperor Huizong
was personally interested in seal making and collecting, including Daoist seals.
This is reflected in the now-lost Xuanhe yinpu 宣和印譜 compiled under his reign
(Ren 2006, 247, 250; Zhao 1998, 55-58; Ebrey 2011).
8 For more on seals in this style, see Luo 2010, 235, 237, 242, 245-49, 251-53; Jing et
al. 2007; Fang 2008, 195-97, 201-13, 221-23; Lu 2009; Zhaonasitu 1997.
Recent scholarship has called attention to the Yuan official and Dao-
ist seals in newly-invented Phags-pa script (Basiba wen 八思巴文 )
(Zhaonasitu 1997; Zhaonasitu and Xue 2011; Cai 2011; Ma 2017), which
could have been stimulated by the official seals in layered seal script
style wide spread in the Yuan. Ma Xiaolin 馬曉林 deciphered a rare seal
in Phags-pa script associated with the Quanzhen patriarch Zhang
Zhixian 張志仙 (Fig. 4a; Ma 2017, 58), who assumed his leadership in
1285. The seal was carved onto a stele dated 1301 and located in the Dao-
ist Temple Dongzhen guan 洞真觀, Mt. Lanke 爛柯山, Luoyang, Henan.
The Phags-pa script (Fig. 4b; Ma 2017, 59) underneath the Chinese char-
acters reads, “The Seal of the Great Patriarch of the Mysterious School
that Expounds the Dao (Xuanmen yandao dazongshi zhangjiao zhiyin 玄門演
道大宗師掌教之印). It is embedded with multi-layered spirals that re-
semble the layered seal script in other aforementioned Daoist and impe-
rial seals.
a.
b.
Fig. 4. a. Phagspa-script Seal of the Quanzhen Daoist Patriarch Zhang Zhixian.
Dated 1301. b. Transliteration of the Phagspa script by Ma Xiaolin.
Seals of Heavenly Scripts

This group is the largest among the four types and occupies over 40 per-
cent of Daoist ritual seals Wang reproduced from Daoist texts.9 They are
part of Daoist “imagetexts,” since what Wang called talismanic seal
script in fact belongs to the abundant and multifaceted repository of
heavenly scripts (tianshu 天書) (Hsieh 2010). Other names include cloud
seal (yunzhuan 雲篆), esoteric seal script (mizhuanwen 秘篆文), jade seal
script (yuzhuan 玉篆), true writs (zhenwen 真文), heavenly writs (tianwen
9 Wang has over 130 seals in this category (2000, 59-64; 2001, 472-78).
``
天文), hidden script (yinshu 隱書), vermilion script (chishu 赤書), self-
generating jade graphs (ziran yuzi 自然玉字), and more (Wang 1991;
Hsieh 2010; Huang 2012, 91-93, 141, 154-64; Ledderose 1984; Li 1997,
2003b).
The diverse heavenly scripts appear frequently in Daoist scriptures
and liturgical compilations preserved in the Daoist Canon. Some of these
texts—mostly those dating to the thirteenth-to-fourteenth centuries—
even juxtapose transliterations alongside the seemingly arcane writs to
imbue a sense of legibility to the mysterious forms (Fig. 5a-b; see Hsieh
2017).
a.
b.
Fig. 5: Heavenly scripts with transliteration—a. Detail of sixty-four words in jade
seal script with transliterations, Shangqing lingbao dafa, DZ 1221, 30: 791; b. Detail
of the natural scripts, Qingwei yuanjiang dafa, DZ 223, 4: 161.

More and more comparable samples were discovered in archaeo-
logical sites such as a Tang Dunhuang manuscript (P. 2865) (Fig. 6a) and
a number of Song tomb epitaphs (Fig. 6b) (Huang 2012, 141). Regrettably,
this type of Daoist script was rarely documented or studied by scholars
of Chinese calligraphy and seals; they remain esoteric to most modern
readers.
a. b.
Fig. 6: Archaeological samples of Daoist talismanic script—a. The celestial script
of the three qi, detail from a Dunhuang manuscript. Ink on paper. Tang dynasty;
b. Daoist true writs, rubbing from a tombstone. Northern Song dynasty, early
eleventh century. Chengdu, Sichuan.
Pertinent to the lore of heavenly scripts is the phenomenon of thun-

der writs (leishu 雷書, leiwen tianzhuan 雷文天篆, leizhuan zhenwen 雷篆真
文), a new category of thunder-inspired Daoist scripts, developed along-
side the rise of thunder rite, a ritual noted for its efficacy in healing, ex-
orcism, and rainmaking, first promoted by the Northern Song Divine
Empyrean school and widely practiced by other Daoist schools in Song-
Yuan China (Liu 1987; Li 2003a, 279-81; Li 2007; Huang 2012, 328). Thun-
der writs can be further linked to the so-called ghost script (guishu 鬼書),
mentioned in Tang calligraphy discourse, a type of celestial script one
finds on the corpse of an evil person struck by lightning (Li 1997, 42; Li et
al., 2000, 93; Li 2003a, 376).
``
Daofa huiyuan provides ample samples of thunder writs, including

historical anecdotes with transliterations (Li et al., 2000, 93) (Fig. 7). The
thunder writs shown here are in line with the aforementioned heavenly
scripts—completely incomprehensible to ordinary eyes. Writing in the
13th century, Zhou Mi 周密 (1232-98) cites anecdotes of thunder writs
people spotted on various architectural surfaces in Buddhist temples and
wine shops alike. Except a few legible words, “all the rest look like in-
comprehensible Daoist talismanic scripts” (Qidong yeyu 齊東野語, 12:
11a-b, Siku quanshu edition).
Fig. 7: Thunder Writs. Daofa huiyuan, DZ 1200, 28: 248.
The seals reproduced in the following group show traces of how

Daoist talismanic writs depart from traditional writings to create their
own idioms (Fig. 8a-d).10 The curvy writs in each seal are rendered in
individual word-like units and, similar to the seals in layered seal script
style, they bear repetitive spirals. What differentiates them from the pre-
vious group, however, is that curvy lines no longer appear only in paral-
lel spirals. Rather, they are intertwined, crossing over one another, just
like clouds or cosmic qi in motion. One observes doubling, tripling, ab-
breviating, or simply reconfiguring of certain compartments of legible
words. Fig. 8a reads, “Dragon scripts of the eight daunters” (bawei long-
wen 八威龍文). Tis stamped seal can be used for posting or medicine-
10The seals reproduced in Fig. 8a-d are from Wang’s seals nos. 5, 22, 163, 110
reproduced in Wang 2000, 65-66, 69, 71.
taking. Fig. 8b has, “Seal of the Highest of the Three Heavens” (Santian
taishang zhi yin 三天太上之印). It is used for stamping on envelopes of
liturgical documents submitted to gods.
In addition, many seals in this category bear word-like elements
hard to decipher. The Seal of the Three Departments of Tai, Xuan, and
Du (Tai xuan du sheng yin 泰玄都省印) (Fig. 8c), therefore, is “a seal inher-
ited from the founder” (zuyin 祖印), arguably transmitted from Han-
dynasty Celestial Masters and later used to summon celestial military
forces.11 At first glimpse, the scripts bear balanced layered spirals com-
parable to the first seal type (Fig. 1a-c). But perhaps because the seal de-
sign was “altered after the regular seal script” (Lingbao shangjing dafa, DZ
219, 3: 1061), the scripts are meant to be esoteric. Adding to this is the
illegible Seal of the Jade Emperor (Yudi yin 玉帝印) (Fig. 8d), used for
summoning the dragon to the adept’s visualization in order to facilitate
his cosmic journey (Li and Lu 2002, 71). The style recalls the abbreviated
natural scripts associated with Qingwei Daoism (Fig. 5b).
a. b. c. d.
Fig. 8: Seals in heavenly scripts—a. Seal of the dragon scripts, Shangqing lingbao
dafa, DZ 1221, 30: 902; b. Seal of the Highest of the Three Heavens, Wushang
huanglu dazhai lichengyi, DZ 508, 9: 629; c. the Seal of the Three Departments, Ling-
bao wuliang duren shangjing dafa, DZ 219, 3: 1061; d. Seal of the Jade Emperor,
Taishang dengzhen sanjiao lingying jing 太上登真三矯靈應經, DZ 286, 5: 4.
Surprisingly, at the end of a highly regarded calligraphic scroll, Ji-

long song 鶺鴒頌 (Ode on Pied Wagtails) by the Tang emperor Xuanzong,
dated 719 and now in the National Palace Museum, Taipei (Liu ed., 2008,
86-89; Hou 2012), there is a rare Daoist seal (Fig. 9a-b) whose wavy writs
11For an explanation of the term, see Luk 2015, 122-23. Cf. a different definition
of the term by Skar 1996, 180-181, n. 46.
``
resemble those of the aforementioned seals.12 While its mysterious con-

tent is not deciphered, it seems plausible to read it as consisting of six
talismanic scripts composed in three vertical rows, with two in each row.
The curvilinear strokes of the writs follow a similar interlocking pattern
not unlike the script style analyzed earlier.
The seal’s placement invites a potential link to the historical milieu
associated with Emperor Huizong, who supported Daoism and the pro-
duction of Daoist seals, talismans, and paintings (Ebrey 2008, 67-71; 2011;
2014, 131-59). The seal was stamped prominently on the upper part of
the yellow silk damask immediately after the work. At the border of this
piece of silk damask we also find multiple Northern Song imperial seals
reflecting the so-called Xuanhe mounting (Xuanhe zhuang 宣和裝 )
(Barnhart 1983; Ebrey 2008, 114-20; 2014). This is a coded mounting and
sealing program Huizong used in authenticating masterpieces of paint-
ing and calligraphy in his court collection (Liu 2008, 82).
To the right of the seal is the “Zhenghe” 政和 elongated seal on the
upper right of the brocade. Corresponding to this is the “Xuanhe” 宣和
elongated seal on the lower right of the brocade. To the left edge of the
brocade, we see the “Zheng” 政 and “He” 龢 square seals stamped at the
center. A little bit away from this group of seals is the most prominent,
oversized Seal of the Inner Court Library (Neifu tushu zhiyin) in layered
seal script style (Fig. 3a), describe earlier. 13 Two colophons following
Huizong’s imperial seals were from the hands of Cai Jing 蔡京 (1047-
1126), a well-documented official particularly close to Emperor Huizong
(Ebrey 2008, 2014), and his brother Cai Bian 蔡卞 (1048-1117) (Fig. 23c),
who signed his name here with an administrative title, Messenger of the
Temple of the Central Taiyi (Zhong taiyi gongshi 中太一宮使), suggesting
a potential link of this scroll’s readership to the prominent imperial-
12 For a section-by-section reproduction of this scroll, including the Daoist seal,

see the online database published by the National Palace Museum, Taipei:
<http://painting.npm.gov.tw/Painting_Page.aspx?dep=P&PaintingId=14715>
(retrieved on October 10, 2017).
13 These imperial seals, together with a selection of brocade and paper in specifis
measurements, constitute the signature Xuanhe mounting formula, a coded for-

mula Huizong used in authenticating masterpieces in his collection (Liu 2008, 82).
patronized Daoist temple—Temple of the Central Taiyi (Zhong taiyi

gong 中太一宮)— in the Song capital Kaifeng.14
a.
b. c.
Fig. 9: Seal and Colophon from the Jilong song. Detail of the mounting brocade
(25x11.2 cm).
While the previous group of seals shed light on the fundamental

taste of Daoist talismanic writs, other seals exhibit still a wider range in
variation. A case in point is a series of closely comparable Seals of the
14 Some scholars of calligraphy speculate that the two colophons by the Cai
brothers were in fact copies. That said, Hou Yili cited historical records that con-
firm that the two brothers have inscribed colophons on the Jilong song .
``
Bureau of the Great Numinous Treasures (Lingbao dafasi yin 靈寳大法司

印) recorded in the Southern Song-to-Ming Daoist texts (Fig. 10a). 15 The
seal was mainly used for sealing liturgical documents and envelopes
(Wang 2000, 94; Li 2003b; Ren 2006, 248).16 These seal samples compare
closely to an actual bronze seal (Ming?), now in the collection of the His-
tory Museum, Beijing (Fig. 10b) (Wang 2000, 94; cf. Luo 2010, 60). The
multiplicity of this seal template speaks volumes about the popularity
and longevity of the seals’ transmission.
a. b.
Fig. 10. Seals of the Bureau of the Great Numinous Treasures—a. Shangqing ling-
bao dafa, DZ 1223, 31: 398; b. Seal template of the bronze seal, Ming, History Mu-
seum, Beijing.
Fig. 11: Jade Scripts of the Bright Great Brahma, Lingbao lingjiao jidu jinshu, DZ
466, 8: 278.
Stylistically, the overall design appears more ornamental and

graphic in comparison to the seals in heavenly writs discussed earlier
(Fig. 8a-d). This is most evident in the lines ending with spiral or Y-
15 The one reproduced in Fig. 8a of this article is no. 256. Cf. seals nos. 255, 257-
259 in Wang 2000, 64, 75; Tseng 1993, 104 (Fig. 5.28); Li and Lu 2002, 209.
16 For the size guideline, see Shangqing lingbao dafa, DZ 1223, 31: 398. Cf. contem-
porary seals rendered in seal script style and used by Taiwanese Daoists to evoke
the same Daoist celestial office (Wang 2000, 95). When used in contemporary
Taiwan, the seal is used for funeral-related rituals; see Su 1999, 179.
shaped hooks, which in turn call to mind the so-called “jade scripts of
bright Great Brahma” (dafan guangming yuzi 大梵光明玉字) (Fig. 11)
(Legeza 1975, 69; Li et al., 2000, 183), a rare and fairly stylized variation
of heavenly scripts preserved in the thirteenth-century liturgical compi-
lation of the Numinous Treasures Daoism.
This ornamental script style may reflect the cultural trend of anti-
quarianism in Song China (Huang 2012, 161). Its visual prototype can be
traced to such archaic scripts as the bird script (niaozhuan 鳥篆), bird-
and-insect script (niaochong shu 鳥蟲書) (Han 1987; Cao 1999; Tseng 1993,
82-83, 103-104; Louis 2003; Luo 2010; Hou 2011), or fish-and-insect seal
script (yuchong zhuan 魚蟲篆) inspired by birds, fish, and insects, evident
in the Han seal carving (Fig. 12a; Luo 2010, 132; Hu 2005, 134) and the
birdscripts (Fig. 12b-c; Cao 1999, 7; Louis 2003, 15; Huang 2012, 157) in-
laid on the surfaces of two bronze hu vessels discovered in the Western
Han tomb of Prince Liu Sheng (165-113 BCE) in Mancheng, Hebei.
a.
b. c.
Fig. 12: Ancient birdscripts.
For example, the character jin 菳 (splendid) (Fig. 12c), whose mod-
ern line drawing was retrieved from the inlaid lid of the same hu vessel,
is composed of playful birds and fish.17 Its overall design recalls an ar-
chaic Qin imperial seal recorded by the Southern Song scholar Zhao
17The same episode was recorded in various Song-Yuan official sources, includ-
ing Xu Zizhi tongjian changbian 續資治通鑑長編 (Extended Continuation to the
Comprehensive Mirror in Aid of Governance 496: 2a-b) and Songshi 宋史 (the
Song History 154: 4a-b), although no illustration was provided there. For more
study, see Li 2006.
``
Yanwei 趙彥衛 (1163 jinshi) in his Yunlu manchao 雲麓漫抄 (Free Copy of
the Cloudy Foothill; pref. 1206) (Fig. 13a-b; Li 2006, 54; Huang 2012, 157).
b.
a.
Fig. 13a-b. Transliteration and line drawing, full-page and in detail, of a Qin-
dynasty jade seal, reported-ly found in 1098 near Xianyang, Henan (Yunlu
manchao 15: 2b).
Zhao provides a transliteration of the seemingly illegible imagetext.

It reads, “receive the order from heaven, long live and prosper forever”
(shouming yu tian, ji shou yongchang 受命于天，既壽永昌). This fish seal
script or fish-and-insect seal script was presented to the Northern Song
court by a citizen named Duan Yi 段義 from Xianyang 咸陽 in 1098.
Duan claimed that he unearthed this ancient seal in 1096 in the Liuyin
Village 劉銀村, Henan. Upon receiving this, the Song government sum-
moned a connoisseurship committee led by Cai Jing 蔡京 to authenticate
the seal.
Based on its unusually blue-like green luster that was highly re-
garded as a trademark of the original jade produced in Blue Field (Lanti-
an 藍田) in Shaanxi, the intricate carvings on the seal knob, and the fish-
and-insect seal script, the committee concluded that it was a genuine seal
of the Qin time (Yunlu manchao15: 9a-b). Curiously, the jade seal illustrat-
ed by Zhao Yanwei compares remarkably to a large square seal (Fig. 13c),
stamped on the upper right corner of the world-renown Southern Song
ink painting depicting the Chan patriarch (Fig. 13d) (Li 2006).18
c. d.
Fig. 13c-d Seal on one of the paired scrolls of Chan Patriarchs Taming the Mind.
Southern Song. Ink on paper. Tokyo National Museum.
a. b.
Fig. 14: Seals evoking cosmic qi and light—a. Seal in Jade Script of the Three
Mysterious Flying Qi, Daofa huiyuan, DZ 1220, 30: 167; b. Seal of the Purple Light
and Cinnabar Heaven, Daofa huiyuan, DZ 1220, 30: 140.
18 The painting is one of the two paintings that form a set entitled Two Chan Pa-
triarchs Taming the Mind (Erzu tiaoxin tu 二祖調心圖), attributed to the tenth-
century painter Shi Ke 石恪. For an interactive image file of the two Southern
Song paintings of the Chan Patriarchs, see the e-Museum website: <
http://www.emuseum.jp/detail/100832/000/000?mode=detail&d_lang=zh&s_lang
=zh&class=&title=&c_e=&region=&era=&century=&cptype=&owner=&pos=225&
num=1> (retrieved on September 24, 2017).
``
In a similar vein, some other Daoist seals named after cosmic qi or

light borrow selected visual elements from the ancient scripts inspired
by birds and insects (Fig. 13a-b). One observes a bird’s head at the center
of the Seal in Jade Script of the Three Mysterious Flying Qi (Feixuan sanqi
yuzhang zhi yin 飛玄三炁玉章之印) (Fig. 14a), a seal to be stamped on li-
turgical envelopes (Li and Lu 2002, 277).19 The Seal of the Purple Light
and Cinnabar Heaven (Ziguang dantian yin 紫光丹天印) (Fig. 14b), a
ritual seal in the possession of a thunder-rite master to be stamped on the
dragon-summoning document (cf. Reiter 2007, 110), also bear script-like
symbols with lines and spirals, or lines that begin or end with a “Y”
shape. Unlike the Seals of the Bureau of the Great Numinous Treasures
(Fig. 10a-b), which are “legible”, these symbols are not meant to be legi-
ble words.
The preoccupation with thunder power in Song-Yuan Daoism has
stimulated more creations of seal designs, infusing still more innovative
graphic idioms to the growing repertoire of Daoist writs. Let us start
with two groups of seals used widely in thunder rites and best docu-
mented in Daoist historical sources, archaeological finds, and contempo-
rary practices.
The first group features Seals of the Thunderclap Bureau (Leiting du-
si zhi yin 雷霆都司之印) (Fig. 15a-e), noted for its power to summon the
thunder troops. In the Daofa huiyuan version (Fig. 15a-b), the back side of
the seal also bears engraved graphs (Li and Lu 2002, 216-17), available in
two alternative templates (Fig. 26b-c below), which we will turn to when
we discuss the fourth type. The Thunder Sire Shaoyang (Shaoyang
leigong 邵陽雷公) is said to activate the seal’s power of exorcism by
“shining the seal upon the poisonous dragon” (zhao qi dulong 照其毒龍)
(Sakai 2012, 30), just like a mirror.20 Surprisingly, two Jin seals excavated
in Heilongjiang 黑龍江 (Fig. 15c-d) in the 1980s and 1990s respectively
demonstrate striking similarity with the seal samples illustrated in Daofa
19 It is the seal no. 175 reproduced in Wang 2000, 62, 71. Cf. seal no. 174 in Wang
2000, 62, 71.
20 Buddhist talismanic seals recorded in medieval Dunhuang manuscripts were
sometimes treated as “the source of illumination” (Copp 2011, 211). For a Daoist
mirror bearing graphs of talismans and constellations, recorded in Emperor Hui-
zong’s antiquities catalogue and discovered in archaeological finds, see Ebrey
2008, 197 (Fig. 6.38); Huang 2012, 225-26 (Figs. 4.41-4.44).
huiyuan (Figs. 15a-b), suggesting that the circulation of such seals was
not restricted to the south.21
The second group, Seals of the Great Thunder Fire of the Capital
Heaven (Dutian daleihuo yin 都天大雷火印) (Fig. 16a-c),22 summon celes-
tial officials, control demons of mountains and rivers, and evoke rain.
They can be used in sealing talismanic ritual documents and “stamping
disease and demons” (yin bing yin gui 印病印鬼) (Daofa huiyuan, DZ 1220,
29: 594). “Whenever one moves the seal, the thunder strikes as well”
(yindong leidong 印動雷動) (Tianshuyuan zhengfa, DZ 549, 10: 473).23 The
Southern Song Tianshuyuan zhengfa describes the seal script reproduced
in Fig. 16b as “layered celestial-writ seal script” (die tianwen zhuan 曡天文
篆) (Li 2003a, 296; Li and Lu 2002, 159).24
At first glimpse, viewers are confronted with dots and graphs that
are integrated to form organic scripts. The most eye-catching visual in-
novation lies in the graphic reconfiguration of the word “lei” 雷, refer-
ring to “thunder” (Figs. 15a-e, 16a, 16c). The lower compartment of the
“lei” character is now replaced with an incised axe-shaped pattern filled
with three dots.
In a similar vein, repetitive motifs of an incised rhombus or square
pattern enclosing a dot take over parts of the scripts of “du” 都 and “yin”
印. Furthermore, many more strokes are simply replaced with incised or
relief dots, such as the renditions of “lei” 雷, “ting” 霆, “huo” 火, “da” 大,
21 For a study of the spread of Daoist teachings (esp. the Quanzhen Daoism) in
northeast China in the Jin dynasty, see Wang 2012.
22 Cf. the seal samples reproduced in Li and Lu 2002, 216-17, 231.
23 Cf. Wang 2000, 105-109. Note that I treat the seals discussed here as an expan-
sion of the seals in talismanic script, namely, the second type according to
Wang’s types. This is different from Wang’s classification of these seals, which he
groups them under the fourth type, seals in talismanic graphic style. Fig. 25a-b,
d-e reproduced in this article correspond to the seals nos. 234-1, 232, 185, and 183
reproduced in Wang 2000, 72, 74.
24 Cf. similar designs of Seal of the City God Justice (Tiju chenghuang yin 提舉城隍
司印) and Seal of the Immortal Capital of the Nine Elders (Jiulao xiandu zhi yin 九
老仙都之印) in Tianshuyuan zhengfa, DZ 549, 10: 474; Shangqing lingbao dafa, DZ
1221, 30: 902.
``
and “zhi” 之. The heavy uses of dots and the visual contrast of incised
and relief markings make the overall designs animated.
The thunder-inspired seals find their contemporary counterparts in
liturgical seals used by Daoists in Taiwan. The two seal templates shown
here (Figs. 15e, 16c) are from two six-sided compact seals used in con-
temporary Daoist rituals. The Seal of the Thunder Bureau in the Ta-
wanese Daoist Hong Baijian’s collection (Fig. 15e) is comparable to the
Jin-dynasty seals discovered in Heilongjiang (Fig. 15c-d); it is for sealing
documents associated with the thunder rite.25 The Great Thunder Fire of
the Capital Heaven (Fig. 16c) engraved on one of the six-sided seal
owned by the Daoist Hong Baijian 洪百堅, demonstrates a reverse design
that resembles Fig. 16a.
a. b.
c. d.
Fig. 15: Seals of the Thunder Bureau —a. Daofa huiyuan,
DZ 1220, 29: 594; b. Daofa huiyuan, DZ 1220, 29: 150; c.
Discovered in Chaoyang, Wuchang, Heilongjiang
province in 1980s. 5x5 cm. (Jing et al. 2007, 9: 476); d.
Discovered in Shangzhi, Heilongjiang province in 1991.
e. 5.8 x 5.8cm. (Jing et al. 2007, 9: 475); e. One of the six-
sided seal designs used by the Celestial Master in
contemporary Taiwan (Su ed., 1999, 179).
25Although engraved on a single seal, these seal templates are used for different
purposes. For reproductions, see Su 1999, 179.
a. b.
c.
Fig. 16: Seals of the Great Thunder Fire of the Capital Heaven—a. Daofa huiyuan,
DZ 1220, 29: 150; b. Tianshuyuan zhengfa, DZ 549, 10: 473; c. Six-sided Seal owned
by Daoist Hong Baijian in Taiwan (Wang 2000, 240).
Talisman-Inspired Seals
The third type Wang Yucheng proposed refers to the talisman-inspired
seals (Wang 2000, 55, 59-75). This is the second largest type among the
four, occupying over 30 percent of the seal samples he retrieved from
Ming and pre-Ming Daoist texts. Many seals examined in earlier article,
including the Daoist and Buddhist seals from the Dunhuang manu-
scripts (Huang 2017, Figs. 12-14) and the series of Yue Seals (2017, Figs.
5b, 6a-d, 7a-d) can be grouped under this category.
To make the connection between seal and talisman, it is useful to
outline what constitutes the basic form of a talisman (Li et al. 2000; Li
2003a, 395-400; Despeux 2000, Mollier 2003, 2008; Sakade et al., 2005;
Verellen 2006; Tseng 1993, 79-96). 26 Using anthropomorphic terms, Li
Yuanguo unpacked the stereotype of a talismanic structure in tripartite
(Li et al., 2000, 107; Li 2003a, 395-97). The head of a talisman (futou 符頭)
often extends its symmetrical components from the top to both sides,
covering the left and right contour. The feet of a talisman (fujiao 符腳)
refers to the lower part. The abdomen or gallbladder of a talisman (fufu
符腹 or fudan 符膽) refers to the most essential component enclosed in
the middle part of a talisman, just like the inner realm of the abdomen or
gallbladder covered within a human body. The esoteric spells are some-
times integrated within the abdomen of the talisman (funei shu yizhou 腹
26For an excellent introduction to Daoist talismans, see the film entitled “The
One Hundred Day Exorcistic Talisman” (Baijie fu 百解符 ) by Patricia Fava:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lAI9azG_SWQ (retrieved on November 16,
2017). Thanks to Hsieh Shu-wei for his input.
``
内書役咒; Daofa huiyuan, DZ 1220, 30: 215), covered by other strokes su-
perimposed on them when the talisman is completed, and thus remain
esoteric to the untrained eye.
One can glimpse the talisman-making procedure from numerous il-
lustrated instructions preserved in liturgical compilations in the Daoist
Canon (Fig. 17). The “decomposed forms” (sanxing 散形) detail step-by-
step “how-to-draw” guidelines along with spells to be chanted while
drawing the talisman. This is followed by the “assembled form” (juxing
聚形), which represents a finished sample of a talisman. The sample
shown here is the decomposed and assembled forms of the Talisman of
the Three Luminants of the Sun, the Moon, and the Northern Dipper
(Sanguang fu 三光符) (Fig. 17), a major talisman essential to the Song-
dynasty Celestial Heart (Tianxin 天心) Daoists in exorcism, healing, and
thunder rites (Despeux 2000, 511; Li 2003a, 401).
Fig. 17: Decomposed and Assembled

Forms of the Three Luminants,
Taishang zhuguo jiumin zongzhen biyao,
DZ 1227, 32: 61.
A talisman is often composed of a mixture of writs and graphs. One

classic design principle originating in early medieval Daoism is to incor-
porate the so-called compound scripts (fuwen 複文) (Fig. 18) into a talis-
man (Fig. 19a). This is a unique Daoist writ noted for its multiplicity of
the same characters to form a complex script.
Fig. 18: Compound scripts, Taiping jing, DZ

1101, 24: 524.
The oft-cited examples from Taiping jing 太平經 (Fig. 18; Wang 1960,
475), for instance, show that within one unit of fuwen writ, it is possible
to juxtapose double characters of “di”地, “huo”火, “yue”月, “ri”日,
“sheng”生, “mu”木, or triple characters of “tian” 天, “zi”子, “xia”下,
“fang”方, “ or even six times of “tian” 天. We observe a similar compos-
ing principle underlining the talisman to open the mind and get rid of
delusion (kaixin biwang 開心辟妄) (Fig. 19a), recorded in the Six Dynas-
ties Zhen gao 真誥 (DZ 1016, 20: 542; Sakade et al., 2007, 66-67).
a. b. c.
Fig. 19: Talismans—a. Talisman to open the mind and disperse absurdity, Zhen
gao, DZ 1016, 20: 542; b. Talisman evoking the sixth star of the Northern Dipper,
Beidou qiyuan jinxuan, DZ 753, 17: 88; c. Talisman of Tienpeng, Daofa huiyuan, DZ
1220, 30: 50.
The other visual strategy for talisman-making is to integrate cosmic

symbols referring to the sun, the constellation, and so on. For example,
the talisman associated with the sixth star (Quwuxing 武曲星) of the
Northern Dipper (Fig. 19b) is composed of multiple square motifs that
symbolize the light of the constellation (see Li and Lu 2002, 170). In addi-
``
tion, the talisman in the name of the exorcist deity Tianpeng (Tianpeng
xifu 天蓬檄符) (Fig. 19c) bears lined dots symbolizing the constellation,
especially the Northern Dipper; it also contains legible words such as the
name of the deity, “Tianpeng” 天蓬, and “gui” 鬼 (demon).
When adapting a talismanic design to a seal counterpart, several
modifications take place along with the change of media. Unlike the
mainstream talismans, which are elongated in shape, Daoist seals are
often cut in square, and their sizes are much smaller than talismans. This
implies that a seal designer/carver would have to truncate or simplify a
talismanic design when he transfers the design from a talisman to a seal.
Furthermore, switching from “writing” talismans with the traditional
brush on paper to seal “carving” on wood and other hard surfaces
would naturally compromise the nuances of the thickening and thinning
of calligraphic brushstrokes.
The Tianpeng Seal (Fig. 20a), the Plague-expelling Seal (Fig. 20b),
the Seal Evoking the Sun (Fig. 20c), and the Seal of the Supreme Tenuity
(Taiwei 太微) (Fig. 20d), serve as good examples of talisman-inspired
seals. 27 These seals embody elements of the constellation and compound
scripts comparable to talismans discussed earlier; they also look much
more “squeezed” in comparison to the elongated talismans, with much
more intensely packed angular switchbacking lines. Stylistically, the in-
tense parallel lines in Figs. 20a-b, in particular, recall the busy graphs
seen in the group of the Yue Seals discussed in Part 1 of this study
(Huang 2017, 81-82).
a. b. c. d.
Fig. 20: Talisman-inspired Seals—a. Tianpeng Seal, Daofa huiyuan, DZ 1220, 29:
829; b. Plague-expelling Seal, Gaoshang shenxiao yuqing zhenwang zishu dafa, DZ
1219, 28: 619; c. The Seal Evoking the Sun, Huangdi taiyi bamen rushi mijue, DZ
587, 10: 778; d. Seal of the Supreme Tenuity, Shagui lu, DZ 1215, 28: 526.
27Fig. 17a-d are numbered 66, 194, 83-1, and 53 in Wang 2000, 59-60, 64-65, 67, 74.
For an explanation of the Supreme Tenuity, see Skar 1996, 168.
Seals reproduced here, on the other hand, compare closely to a spe-

cific type of healing talismans rendered in a simpler composition shorter
than the standard talismans, with heavy uses of compound scripts (Fig.
21) (Lin 2013, 435, 447; Ren 2006, 199-200). Such therapeutic talismans
address such physical issues as headache, stomach ache, and digestion
difficulty (Fig. 21); they also address mental problems, such as enhancing
memory (kaixin qiangji 開心強記) and curing depression (jie beisi 解悲
思).28
Fig. 21: Talismans for healing digestive problems. Suling zhenfu, DZ 389, 6: 356.
A small sub-group of seals of this type demonstrate unusually com-

plicated designs in a slightly elongated composition (Fig. 22a-c; see Li
and Lu 2002, 113-14). Their graphic designs resemble Daoist registers (lu
籙; Amy Lynn Miller in Pregadio ed., 2007, 39-42),coupons (juan 劵), or
contracts (hetong 合同) (Fig. 23), an assortment of talismanic documents
whose compositions are wider than standard talismans and were used in
ordination or salvation rituals (Huang 2012, 34, 278-79). Compared to a
typical talisman that tends toward a vertical and elongated structure, a
register or a coupon like those shown here bears a wider composition,
28See, for example, Suling zhenfu, DZ 389, 6: 343, 348-49, 358-59. Perhaps just be-
cause these healing talismans are easier to draw, they were adapted in non-
Daoist medical treatises and encyclopedia of the Song and Yuan periods. For
more recent studies acknowledging the common uses of talismans and seals in
Chinese medicine and Daoist practices, see Lin 2013; Lin Fushi and TJ Hinrichs in
Hinrichs and Barnes eds., 2013, 68, 111.
``
with talismanic elements filled in multiple “lines”. Interestingly, all the

seals that resemble miniature registers or ritual coupons are associated
with demon-quelling or demon-summoning, and evoke the North Pole
(Beiji 北極), the North Emperor (Beidi 北帝), and the Daoist underworld
Fengdu 酆都 (Mollier 1997, esp. 367-69; Huang 2012, 120-34, 254-61).29
a. b. c.
Fig. 22: Seal designs that resemble Daoist registers, coupons or contracts—a. The
Premier Demon-quelling Seal by the North Emperor, Fumo shenzhou miaojing, DZ 1412,
34: 415; b-c. North Pole Demon-quelling Seal, and Fengdu demon-summoning Seal,
Shagui lu, DZ 1215, 28: 525.
Fig. 23: Daoist coupons and contract, Lingbao lingjiao jidu jinshu, DZ 466, 8: 350-51.
29 I am grateful for Dr. Saikai Norifumi for his input.

Graphic Seals
Seals dominated by graphs make up about 15 percent of all the Daoist
seals reproduced in Wang Yucheng’s seal index (2000, 55, 59-75).30 Mov-
ing from the first type that is word-based, here we swing to the other
pole of the Daoist imagetext seesaw. The graphic seals can be further
divided into two groups, one making reference to the animated cosmic qi,
and the other citing diagrammical conventions of Daoist ritual space,
lamp maps, and charts of numerology.
The first group (Fig. 24a-d) conveys the movement of cosmic qi
through linear graphs highlighted by curvy lines. 31 The unusual round-
shaped Seal of the Taiji 太極 (Fig. 24a) preserved in a text associated with
the thunder-rite bears the most fantastic graphs (Li and Lu 2002, 154). In
particular, the labyrinth occupying the upper half of the overall composi-
tion, is in fact created by an unbroken stroke traveling back and forth
along the left-and-right direction, just like writing a talisman. The whim-
sical line starts from the upper left corner of the seal template, continues
in rhythmical spirals toward the upper right corner of the seal, and
heads back toward the left edge of the seal in a plainer linear fashion
punctuated by three small circles. This line then turns downward when
it reaches the left edge of the design, and begins a different cycle of up-
and-down movement. At the middle of the composition, it slides to the
right edge and starts yet another series of switchbacking movement,
moving horizontally and downwards. Finally, it turns dramatically up-
ward and ends at the upper right corner of the composition. Similar
graphic principles, if not equally elaborate, govern the underpinning
designs of the Seal of the Lord of the Dao (Daojun yin 道君印) (Fig. 24b)
used in salvation rituals (Li and Lu 2002, 55). The Seal for Sending Peti-
tions in the Flying Steps of the Nine Spirits (Faqian jiuling feibu zhangzou
yin 發遣九靈飛步章奏印) (Fig. 24c), worn by a Daoist master on his left
arm when submitting the petition to gods at the beginning of a ritual,
and the Precious Seal of the Divine Empyrean in Jade Script (Shanxiao
yuwen baoyin 神霄玉文寳印) (Fig. 24d) made of gold and used in curing
30 Although I have regrouped at least five seals from Wang Yucheng’s fourth
type to the third group, the overall percentage remains the same.
31 Fig. 20a-d are seals nos. 48, 228, 205, and 157 in Wang 2000, 67, 71, 73-74.
``
all diseases, are embedded with shorter interlocking lines (Li and Lu
2002, 279).32 The graphs of Fig. 24d highlight short curvy lines ended
with a “Y” shape.
a.
b. c. d.
Fig. 24: Graphic seals—a. Taiji Seal, Daofa huiyuan, DZ 1220, 29: 560; b. Seal of the
Lord of the Dao, Taixuan dusheng xuzhi, DZ 565, 10: 607; c. Seal for Sending
Petitions, Shangqing lingbao dafa, DZ 1221, 30: 903; d. Precious Seal of the Divine
Empyrean, Gaoshang shenxiao yuqing zhenwang zishu dafa, DZ 1219, 28: 617.
These graphic seals resemble the miniature versions of the oft-cited

cosmic diagrams (Fig. 25) illustrated in the early 12th-century commen-
tary (DZ 147, 3: 64-65; Huang 2012, 93; Despeux 2000, 511-13; Legeza
1975, 32-37) to the Duren jing 度人經 (DZ 1). Since the preface is attribut-
ed to Emperor Huizong and the main text celebrates the supreme status
of the Divine Empyrean school, this text may be associated with the Di-
vine Empyrean Daoists active at Huizong’s court. Created by the Sover-
eign of the Heavenly Perfected (Tianzhen huangren 天真皇人), a deity
playing a crucial role as a transmitter of heavenly scriptures in Numi-
nous Treasure Daoism (Hsieh 2007), the diagram is noted for its dynamic
graphs that evoke the fluid, tread-like, and uplifting qi filling the uni-
verse at Daoist creation.33
32For comparable seals, see Li and Lu 2002, 55, 168, 257-58.

33Cf. the Diagram of the Chant of the Azure Sky, and the Diagram of the Great
Floating Earth at Dawn from the same text; see Huang 2012, 93-94 (figs 2.5, 2.6);
Despeux 2000, 513 (fig. 10).
Fig. 25: The Diagram of Blue Original

Transformation of Numinous Treasure,
Lingbao wuliang duren shangpin miaojing
futu, DZ 147, 3: 63.
Graphic seals can also embody miniature renditions of ritual space,

evident in the following three seals related to the thunder rites and re-
trieved from the fourteenth-century Daofa huiyuan (Fig. 26a-c; DZ 1220,
29: 151, 594).34 The most complex design among the three, Fig. 26a (Li
and Lu 2002, 162) features a mandala-inspired seal template with a
wheel motif at the center. Flanking the border of this design are triangles
made of lined dots and what look like the Eight Trigrams. Curvilinear
patterns ended with a “Y” shape motif fill the rest of the seal surface. The
seal evokes the vital military vehicles of the so-called Fire Carriages (Hu-
oche 火車), driven by the generals of the celestial Departments of the Five
Thunders (Wulei 五雷) (Skar 1996, 168), which in turn possess millions of
celestial soldiers (Daofa huiyuan, DZ 1220, 29: 598-602; Sakai 2012). The
wheel with radiant arrows may signal the fire wheel.35 Pertinent to this is
the altar-like diagrammical design in Fig. 26b that shows the Eight Tri-
grams at the border, and a character that reads “thunder” (lei 雷) flanked
by stellar symbols of lined dots referring to the Northern Dipper. An ad-
ditional talismanic stroke circling partially the “thunder” character and
rolling upward to the upper left adds a sense of speedy mobility of the
troops.
These correspond to seal nos. 77, 234-2, 235-2 respectively in Wang 2000, 68, 74.
34
Cf. the Chariot Talisman for Rescuing the Soul (Duhun chefu 度魂車符) with a
35
wheel motif in Lingbao yujian, DZ 547, 10: 257; Ren 2006, 197.
``
a. b. c.
Fig. 26: Graphic seals mimicking diagrams of ritual space and charts of numerol-
ogy—a. Seal of the Fire Chariots of the Departments of the Five Thunders, Daofa
huiyuan, DZ 1220, 29: 151; b-c. Two templates for the back side of the Seal of the
Thunder Bureau, Daofa huiyuan, DZ 1220, 29: 594.
Both Figs. 26a and b resemble ritual charts showing the aerial view
of Daoist altars (tan 壇 or daochang 道場), such as the lamp charts of the
Daoist altars with the Eight Trigrams flanking the charts (Fig. 27a-b) il-
lustrated in the thirteenth-to-fourteenth century liturgical manuals
(Lowell Skar in Pregadio ed., 2007, 673-74, 679-80). The lined dots in Fig.
27a refer to the arrangement of lamps in the ritual space mimicking the
constellations; they compare to the lined dots in the seal template illus-
trated in Fig. 26c.
a.
b.
Fig. 27: Daoist ritual diagrams—a. Lamp chart with the Nine Palaces and Eight
Trigrams, Lingbao lingjiao jidu jinshu, DZ 466, 7: 32; b. Lamp Chart, Lingbao yujian,
DZ 547, 10: 343.
Both the seal templates in Figs. 26b-c are alternative designs for the
back side of the aforementioned Seal of the Thunder Bureau (Fig. 15a).
As noted earlier, the seal is supposed to be deployed as a source of light
to shine upon and thus exorcise the poisonous dragon. Seen in this way,
it is especially significant that the design in Fig. 26c, reserved for the back
side of the seal, is in fact a miniature map of light.
a. b. c.
Fig. 28: Graphic seals with numerology designs—a-b. Divine Seal of the Monarch
of Heaven, Fumo shenzhou miaojing, DZ 1412, 34: 415; shagui lu, DZ 1215, 28: 526;
c. Seal of the Great General, Shagui lu, DZ 1215, 28: 526.
In addition, there are also minimalistic seal designs that feature

simple lines and dots (Fig. 28a-c).36 Figs. 28a-b are both called the Divine
Seals of the Monarch of Heaven (Tiandi shenyin 天帝神印). The seals sub-
jugate evil spirits, bring auspices (DZ 1412, 34: 415), and grant longevity
(DZ 1215, 28: 526). The Seal of the Great General (Dajiangjun yin 大將軍印)
in Fig. 28c evokes the Emperor of the North in charge of the North Pole.
Wearing this seal on the right arm, one will always win in the battlefield
and conquer all evils (Fumo shenzhou miaojing, DZ 1412, DZ 34: 416).
It is likely that the Daoists deploying these

seals see simple configurations of lined dots
like these not as mere decorative graphs but
as symbols that resonate with cosmological
orders. Pertinent to this is a newly-developed
diagrammatical study of divination and nu-
merology, first proposed by the Song Neo-
Confucian scholars who studied the Book of
Changes and its divinations.37
Fig. 29. River Chart from
Daozang
36 These seals correspond to seals nos. 72, 43, 71 respectively in Wang 2000, 66-67.
Cf. Li and Lu 2002, 117-18, 127-28.
37 I am grateful to Richard Smith for connecting this group of graphic seals to the
charts associated with Yijing numerology.

``
The River Chart (Hetu 河圖), attributed to Chen Tuan (d. 989) and
preserved in the Daoist Canon (Fig. 29; DZ 158, 3: 168), belongs to this
category. It aims to reveal, in numerological terms, the “patterns and
processes of cosmic change” (Smith 1991, 108; Huang 2012, 96, 98).
Conclusion
Visual analysis remains an effective tool for modern readers to make
sense of the seemingly chaotic array of seal designs preserved in the
Daoist Canon. As a first step toward a systematic documentation of the
styles of Daoist seals, four types are proposed: seals in seal script, seals in
heavenly scripts, talisman-inspired seals, and graphic seals. The four
types demonstrate wide-ranging composing principles. Laid out in se-
quence, these four types also demonstrate a gradual departure from the
norm of Chinese seals, moving from a script-based mode to the grey
zone of imagetext, and to the graphic. Hybrid imagetext, the esoteric un-
derpinning of the majority of the seal designs examined in this article,
speaks volumes about the uniqueness and creativity of Daoist visuality.
Other Daoist symbols share these visual idioms that manifest in other
formats and materials, such as the myriad forms of heavenly scripts, tal-
ismans, and maps of the ritual space.
The study of Daoist seals has stimulated additional questions await-
ing future exploration. It is encouraging to go beyond Daoist seals and
look harder into the mechanism of Daoist imagetexts and their associat-
ed functions. For example, one can take the thunder-inspired visual de-
signs (seal and talisman alike) and materials (thunder-struck wood)
alongside rituals inspired by thunder (thunder rites) and examine if
there is any mechanism underlining art and religion. Can one speak of a
category of Daoist visual and material culture that is exclusively inspired
by thunder rituals? Indeed, one can take a similar thematic approach to
re-examine other Daoist seals according to their specific functions or
their association with specific schools, and compare them with talismans
serving the same functions or the same schools. Is there a common visual
grammar underlining the visual features of Daoist seals and talismans in
service of a common function or within the same school?
Going beyond Daoism, it is equally promising to expand the inquiry
to a comparative scale, placing Daoist and Buddhist seals face to face.
After all, the limited Buddhist seals brought to comparison in Part 1 of

this study (Huang 2017) reveal only a tiny tip of the Buddho-Daoist ice-
berg. At first sight, the Buddhist talismanic seals appear “atypical” and
“Daoist-inspired” because they lack iconic forms such as a buddha or a
bodhissatva that dominates Buddhist art. Alternatively, these aniconic
images are created based on a mixture of Chinese writings and graphs,
which may indeed reflect an under-stated but fundamental visual ex-
pression that shapes the common ground of Chinese religious visual cul-
ture.
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Immortals and Alchemists
Spirit-Writing and Self-Cultivation

in Ming Daoism
ILIA MOZIAS
Abstract1
What role do immortals play in the life and practice of a community of alche-
mists? In this paper, I examine the role of immortals in the cultivation practice of
a small alchemical community formed around the famous Ming alchemist Lu
Xixing. Lu and his companions had no connection to any religious institution,
and instead of looking for a human master, they turned to the practice of spirit-
writing. In séances, they met numerous immortals and discussed with them var-
ious aspects of self-cultivation and personal life. Lu collected detailed records of
these conversations in his key treatise, which documents how immortals became
members of their community and transformed alchemical cultivation into a jour-
ney in the twilight zone between the human and immortal worlds. They accom-
panied Lu and his companions on all stages of alchemical cultivation and helped
them enter a state of mind necessary for achieving enlightenment. Participation
in spirit-writing séances allowed the Daoists to practice internal alchemy without
leaving their habitual literati life.
Do rituals play any role in internal alchemy (neidan 內丹)? Do immortals

and gods participate in alchemists’ cultivation? Do alchemists need their
help and advice? Alchemical scriptures seem to give negative answers to
1This paper is a revised version of a part of my forthcoming dissertation on Lu

Xixing. I presented it at the 11th International Conference on Daoist Studies in
May 17-22, 2017 in Paris.
83
all these questions. The language of alchemical scriptures is very tech-

nical and symbolical, gods and rituals are rarely mentioned, and visuali-
zations of gods are usually absent. To achieve immortality, alchemists
manipulate their own essence (jing 精), vital energy (qi 氣), and spirit
(shen 神) without any involvement of the divine. Many modern alche-
mists such as Chen Yingning 陳攖寧 (1880-1969) even claimed that inter-
nal alchemy was devoid of superstitions and could be easily reconciled
with modernity (see Liu 2009).
Still, some rituals played an important role in its history, notably
spirit-writing (fuji 扶乩/箕, fuluan 扶鸞). During the Ming and Qing dyn-
asties (1368-1911), many alchemical communities used spirit-writing
techniques to communicate with the gods, to receive transmission of al-
chemical secrets, and to create new alchemical scriptures (see Lai 2013;
2015).
One such community was formed around the famous alchemist Lu
Xixing 陸西星 (1520-1601 / 1606). Members were ordinary literati who
had no formal connection to any religious institution. Unable to find a
true master in this world, they looked for help among the immortals and,
in spirit-writing séances, channelled numerous divine entities to discuss
various questions related to alchemical cultivation and their personal
life. Having no obligations to any institution, these alchemists could
practice in a way suitable to their educational and social background. For
them, internal alchemy was an intellectual quest of men of letters, in
which meetings with divine guests played a crucial role.
The Author
Lu was born and lived most of his life in Xinghua 興化 county near
Yangzhou 揚州 (modern Jiangsu). According to his biography in the
Chongxiu xinghua xianzhi 重修興化縣志 (Revised Edition of the Gazetteer
of Xinghua County), he tried to pass the civic examination nine times but
failed. Giving up on that, he turned to Daoism and spent his life writing
and pursuing immortality. 2
2 Published in Zhongguo difang zhi jicheng 中國地方志集成 (Chinese Local Gazet-

teer Compendium), 48:243.2a-b. (Nanjing: Jiangsu guji chubanshe. 1991).
Mozias, “Immortals and Alchemists” / 85
Lu was a prolific writer whose interests were not limited to internal

alchemy, producing many works during the short period from 1564 to
1573. In 1564, Lu wrote his first alchemical treatise, the Jindan jiuzheng
pian 金丹就正篇 (Chapters on Seeking the Correct Understanding of the
Golden Elixir, ZWDS 5, 368-71).3 In 1573, he finished his last work on the
subject, the Zhouyi cantong qi kouyi 周易參同契口義 (Oral Presentation of
the Seal of the Unity of the Three, ZWDS 5, 287-317). The first edition of
the collection of his alchemical writings, the Fanghu waishi 方壺外史 (Ex-
ternal Secretary of Mount Fanghu) came out around 1572. A second edi-
tion soon followed, published after 1580.
In 1576-78, Lu wrote a commentary on the Zhuangzi, entitled Nan-
hua zhenjing fumo 南華真經副墨 (Ancillary Writings on the Scripture of
Southern Florescence, ZWDS 2, 3-299). Toward the end of his life, he also
composed commentaries on the Śūra gama-sūtra (Lengyan jing 楞嚴經)
and the Laṅkāvatāra Sūtra (Lengjia jing 楞伽經句), and participated in edit-
ing a local gazetteer.4
Lu Xixing is usually considered the founder of the so-called Eastern
School (Dongpai 東派) of internal alchemy. However, no sources prior to
the 19th century mention such a school, and the name first appears in the
writings of Li Xiyue 李西月 (1806–1856), the founder of the Western
School (Xipai 西派) (Yang 1995, 38-41). Nothing close to Lu indicates that
he was ever ordained or became a member of any religious institution or
lineage. 5 He apparently had no teacher or disciples, and had few if any
close Daoist and Buddhist friends.
3 Lu’s works appear in the Zangwai daoshu 藏外道書 (Daoist Texts Outside the
Canon; abbr. ZWDS) (Chengdu: Bashu shushe, 1992-94). For a new edition of his
writings, see Lu 2010.
4 He usually gives exact dates in the prefaces, allowing a reconstruction of his
biography and a creation of a writing timeline. See Lu 2010, 670-72, 680-87.

5 Liu Ts’un-yan (1976) claims that Lu was a Daoist “priest” and, probably, a
member of the Complete Perfection School (Quanzhen dao 全真道). Liu, however,
bases this conclusion not on the analysis of original sources, but rather on the
assumption that a master of Daoist self-cultivation must also be a member of a
Daoist institution. In fact, Lu’s case shows that this assumption is incorrect. Lu
was indeed a famous alchemist, but all available primary sources indicate that he
Rather, it seems that the majority of his friends were local literati,
some of them quite famous. They include the renowned poet Zong Chen
宗臣 (1525-1560) and the Grand Secretary of the Imperial Cabinet (Neige
shoufu 內閣首輔) Li Chunfang 李春芳 (1510-1584). Lu was particularly
close to Zhao Shi 趙栻 (n.d.) and Yao Gengsheng 姚更生 (n.d.), who be-
came his companions in alchemical cultivation and spirit-writing.
Rather than standing out as the founder of an alchemical school, Lu
therefore was just an ordinary man of letters interested in internal al-
chemy who happened to be also a successful writer of alchemical books.
The Transmission
How is it possible to practice internal alchemy and write alchemical trea-
tises without receiving a formal transmission from a true master? Alt-
hough Lu never worked with a human master, he claimed to have re-
ceived a direct transmission from a divine perfected, none less than the
legendary immortal Lü Dongbin 呂洞賓. The preface to the Jindan jiu-
zheng pian describes his development. It says,
The thousands of volumes of alchemical scriptures I have read all say that
the great drug of longevity should grows from the Former Heaven qi of
genuine oneness.6 Being asked where this qi comes from, alchemical scrip-
tures assuredly point to the “other place.”7 If we search for it, could it be
that our body does not have this qi, so we should look for it in an “other
place?” There are few who believe in this and many who doubt this.
From my early years, I aspired to practice this way, but because my
abilities are dull and my nature is obtuse, I was not able to understand its
had no formal connection to any religious institution. I discuss Lu’s life in more
details in the forthcoming dissertation (Mozias, in progress).
6 The Former Heaven qi of genuine oneness (xiantian zhenyi zhi qi 先天真乙之氣) is
the primordial qi, which existed before the creation of the universe. An alchemist
is supposed to imbibe it and, using it as a main component, to form a drug of
immortality.
7 “Other place” (bichu 彼處) is an ambiguous term. Chen Yingning discusses it in
the introduction to Li Xiyue’s, Daoqiao tan 道窍談 (Talks on the Essence of the Way)
(ZWDS 26, 607.2a-608.2b). He sees three meanings: qi stored in the kidneys; a
void outside the body; and people of the opposite sex, i.e. sexual partners.
essence thoroughly. I sometimes took the Zhouyi cantong qi 周易參同契

(Seal of the Unity of the Three) and the Wuzhen pian 悟真篇 (Chapters on
the Awakening to Perfection) for my readings. But I found that thorns and
brambles on the path were hard to eliminate, and I was going backwards
rather than moving forward.
Then I discovered the commentaries of Yu Yan 俞琰, from which I first
learned about the way of purity and nonaction.8 Whenever he spoke about
the cultivation of qi external to the body, he condemned all these practices
as heterodox. He considered that metal, tripod, fire, and tally are just the
fire of the furnace. Yu Yan was firmly entrenched in his predispositions,
which were steadfast and could not be shaken. Alas! If it means indeed on-
ly purity, then what do the worst students laugh about and why does slan-
der arise so easily? [Laozi 41]
Lu here describes the transmission of alchemical knowledge as a tedious

intellectual pursuit of a man of letters who struggles to understand the
essence of internal alchemy. In his studies, Lu first turns to books. He
reads numerous alchemical scriptures, but soon confronts a problem: he
is unable to understand the meaning of the concept of an “other place”
that alchemical scriptures claim to be the origin of the main ingredient of
the drug of immortality, the Former Heaven qi of genuine oneness. Lu
continues his attempts to find an answer in books, but without success.
Continuing his quest, he eventually has the critical encounter:
At that point in my reading of alchemical books, I was unable to avoid

doubts. Then, in the dingwei year of Jiajing era (1547), it was my destiny to
have a fortuitous meeting with Patriarch Lü in the thatched hut in Beihai.
Patriarch Lü stayed with me and our relationship was cordial and harmo-
nious. He granted me the wine of the mystery and consoled me with sweet
words. It was a rare encounter, unparalleled in past, present, and future
lives, and not likely to repeat even in thousand years.
Patriarch Lü encouraged me to diligently practice the superior Dao.
First, he explained how to combine yin and yang and pursue cultivation of
the Dao. At that time, I mistakenly mentioned the teachings of the three
8 Yu Yan (1258-1314) was a scholar and alchemist, mostly known for his commen-
tary on the Zhouyi cantong qi, called Zhouyi cantong qi fahui 周易參同契發揮 (Elab-
orations on the Seal of the Unity of the Three, DZ 1005) (Pregadio in Pregadio
2008, 1190-91).
peaks and asked the Master about it. 9 The Master dismissed them but
transmitted the Jietai zhi ge 結胎之歌 (Song on Coagulating a Fetus) and the
instructions on “entering the chamber.”
The Master’s words and doctrines, which filled up the books and vol-
umes, were subtle and profound. I recorded and preserved them. But alt-
hough the words contain the essentials of the superior Dao, they cannot
express it completely, and over the next twenty years, I almost completely
failed to live up to the Master’s expectations.
Not only Lu does not meet a human master, he even does not try to look
for one. Fortunately, he has a meeting with a legendary immortal Lü
Dongbin who explains the right way of self-cultivation and presents him
with new books that contain profound and subtle knowledge. As Lu
puts is, it was “a rare encounter, unparalleled in the past, present and
future lives, which is hard to present itself even in thousand years.” A
rare encounter it probably was, but, evidently, not as rare as a meeting
with a human master whom Lu has never met. Such man of letters as Lu
Xixing seems to have more chances to encounter an immortal than to
meet a human master. However, he does not reach a thorough under-
standing of internal alchemy immediately after the meeting with the
Master. He continues to doubt and hesitate for twenty years. Then things
change:
In the jiaping (the 12th lunar month) month of the jiazi year (1564), I escaped
to the wilderness. Looking at myself in a mirror, I saw my sorrowful life
and the grayish hair on the temples. I sighed deeply, as no meritorious
achievements have been achieved yet, and I knew that I was running out of
time. I again received a response from Patriarch Lü, who appeared to me in
a dream. I discarded the one and became concerned with the other [Laozi 12]
and, thereupon, achieved great realization.
Within a few years, my practice was complete. I looked into my
memory for the Master’s transmission and was able to recall almost all of it.
I examined treatises, doctrines, scriptures and songs and repeatedly clari-
fied their meaning. One day, in a state of transition between being awake
and sleeping, my mind became clear and unimpeded, I felt as if I achieved
9 Three peaks (sanfeng 三峰) refers to sexual cultivation practices fully called
“gathering and battling at the three peaks” (sanfeng caizhan 三峰採戰). In alchem-
ical literature, this term usually has a derogatory meaning (Hudson 2008, 411-16).
enlightenment and I wrote this essay. Confucius said, “Be thoroughly

versed in the old and understand the new.” 10
Today, I am versed in the old and understand the new. Although my
words are but manifestation of a sudden conjecture, and I do not dare to
use them to correct those who realized the Dao, they nevertheless do not
contradict the meaning of my Master’s teachings. (ZWDS 5, 368.2a-2b)
Once Lu meets the Master for a second time, he has a painful moment of
self-reflection, achieves great realization, recalls all the teachings, and
enters “a state of transition between being awake and sleeping.” Only
then he achieves enlightenment and comes to write his alchemical trea-
tise.
Here he equates the transmission of alchemical knowledge to prac-
tical cultivation. It is not a one-time event but rather a lifetime journey,
which begins with reflecting on the meaning of the alchemical scriptures
and ends when he writes his own treatise. Such is the way of self-
cultivation of a man of letters.
The Master plays an important role in this journey. He appears
when Lu is unable to resolve his doubts, becomes a participant in Lu’s
internal conversation over the meaning of alchemical scriptures, discuss-
es with him critical aspects of alchemical cultivation, and suggest right
answers to Lu’s questions. The Master helps Lu to enter into a state of
mind necessary for achieving enlightenment and adds a transcendental
facet to an intellectual journey of a man of letters in the world of internal
alchemy.
Spirit-Writing
The meetings Lu had with the Master were not accidental, but took place
during spirit-writing séances, both widespread in late imperial China as
well as still popular today, especially in Taiwan.11
10 Lunyu 2, 11. “The Master said, be thoroughly versed in the old and understand
the new – then you can be a teacher” (Watson 2007, 21).
11 Studies on spirit-writing include Chao 1942; Clart 1997; 2003; Goossaert 2014;
2015; Jordan and Overmyer 2014; Kleeman 1994; Lang and Ragvald 1998; Xu
1999.
During a séance, one person goes into trance and holds a sieve or a
stick, then traces images on a surface covered with sand or ashes. Anoth-
er person records and interprets these images as characters. They might
use a stick or a brush, producing the images on paper. Sometimes, in-
stead of being held by a person, the sieve hangs from a rope. Followers
see records obtained in this manner as messages from the gods; the me-
diums’ names are usually not recorded.
Centered around the medium and the spirit-writing ritual often
communities of followers develop. Members watch the delivery of the
messages, ask questions, and discuss a wide range of problems with the
gods, ranging from obscure doctrinal questions through the details of
everyday life to personal issues. They may sometimes use other divina-
tion methods, such as trances, dreams, and spirit possession. Regardless
of the divination method, the purpose is to receive and record divine
revelations.
Members typically meet for some time, record the content of their
communications with gods, choose the most valuable records, and edit
and compile them into a book, which is often published. The practice
appears in the historical records in the 10th century, notably associated
with the cult of Purple Lady (Zigu 紫姑) (Boltz 2009). Practiced first by
ordinary, often illiterate or semi-literate commoners, it gradually became
a literati pastime, involving numerous different immortals, gods, histori-
cal personages, and deceased poets who all came to discuss politics, ex-
amination issues, or career prospects. The attitude of the literati to the
practice was often half-serious: without denying the possibility of com-
municating with the divine, they still felt free to reject or even ridicule a
god’s advice if it did not correlate with their own understanding and
worldview (Xu 1999).
In the late 12th century, several communities of devotees used spirit-
writing to produce scriptures associated with the god Wenchang 文昌
(Kleeman 1994; Goossaert 2014; 2015, 84). From this time on, many Dao-
ists communities incorporated it into their ritual, even though authorities
often regarded it with suspicion (Lai 2015, 115). During the late Ming
and Qing, it spread more widely, finding popularity among Daoists, ad-
herents of heterodox movements, local elites, officials, and also com-
moners. Spirit-writing groups most commonly channeled Wenchang, Lü
Dongbin, Guandi 關帝, Doumu 斗母, and Zhenwu 真武. During the Qing,
their scriptures were collected, edited and codified (Goossaert 2015).
Spirit-writing also became an important source of revelation of new
alchemical scriptures, often centering around Lü Dongbin. 12 The most
famous and best studied among them is the Taiyi jinhua zongzhi 太一金華
宗旨 (Instructions on the Golden Florescence of Great Unity) (Mori 2002;
Cott 2011). Translated by Richard Wilhelm and with a commentary by
Carl Jung under the title The Secret of the Golden Flower, it became one of
the first alchemical scriptures known in the West (Wilhelm 1984; see also
Cleary 1992). Numerous other works are collected in the Lüzu quanshu 呂
祖全書 (Complete Collection of the Works of Patriarch Lü), going back to
the late Ming and republished variously in the 18th and 19th centuries
with ever new treatises (Lai 2013).
Besides scripture revelation spirit-writing as ritual also became the
foundation of a new Daoist movement. Lai Chi-Tim argues that during
the late Ming a new lay Daoist movement emerged “that shared a belief
in Patriarch Lü combined with spirit-writing, independence from monas-
tic institutions, and the engagement of lay communities in the cult within
certain congregational contexts in association with traditional lineages”
(2015, 119). The combination of spirit-writing with internal alchemy is an
important characteristic of this movement. Lai further claims that this
movement first emerged in the late Ming in Jiangnan, where Lu lived at
the time (2015, 118). An analysis of the spirit-writing activities of Lu’s
community illuminates the practice of this group in its early stages.
The Record
Lu participated in spirit-writing séances over twenty-six years, from 1547
until 1572. He kept detailed records and collected them in his Sanzang
zhenquan 三藏真詮 (Truthful Explanation of the Three Depositories), only
a portion of which is still extant. An abridged version of the extant parts
of the text was first published in 1936 by Chen Yingning in the journal on
internal alchemy Yang shan banyue kan 揚善半月刊 (Biweekly Journal for
Promulgation of Goodness) (Yang 1995, 44). Full versions of the extant
12 On the spirit-writing tradition connected to Lü Dongbin, see Goossaert 2015;

Lai 2013; 2015; Mori 2002; Valussi 2015.
portion appear in the Daozang jinghua 道藏精華 (Essentials Splendors of

Daoist Canon; abbr. JH), edited by Xiao Tianshi 蕭天石 (1908-1986),13 as
well as in the Daoshu jicheng 道書集成 (Collection of Daoist Books; abbr.
JC).14 A revised and edited version is, moreover, available in the new
collection of Lu’s writings (Lu 2010). Parallels with other works of Lu
arguably prove its authenticity (Yang 1995, 44-54).
In the preface, Lu describes his meeting with Lü Dongbin and how
the treatise came about.
My knowledge is meager and my nature is inferior. I was deaf to the Dao.

Yet starting from the autumn of the dingwei year [1547], when it was my
destiny to have a fortuitous meeting with Patriarch Lü, we together with
Sir Yao Siming (Yao Gengsheng) got a chance to receive the Master’s re-
gardful and earnest instructions. We were meeting with the Master for
many years, and in great details recorded these events and the essentials of
the Master’s teaching. Over the years, so many records have been collected
that pages were dropping out of the book’s slipcases.
Here the description of the meetings with the Master differs from that in
the preface to the Jindan jiuzheng pian. Lu claims that he met the Master
not once or twice but rather numerous times. He also met him not alone
but together with his friend Yao Gengsheng 姚更生 (courtesy name Sim-
ing 四溟).15 At some point, another Lu’s friend, Zhao Shi 趙栻 (courtesy
name Ziyang 子嚴), joined the community:16
13 See Daozang jinghua 道藏精華 (Essential Blossoms of the Daoist Canon), vol.54.
(Taipei: Ziyou chubanshe. 1987).
14 See Daoshu jicheng 道書集成 (Collection of Daoist Books), vol.44. (Beijing: Jiu-
zhou tushu. 1999).

15 We have only a limited knowledge about Yao Gengsheng. He, just like Lu,
belonged to the circle of local literati. In 1579, Yao successfully passed the pro-
vincial examinations and received the degree of juren 舉人. In 1592 he was ap-
pointed a head magistrate of Xiangcheng county 襄城縣 (in modern Henan prov-
ince) (Lu 2010; 684, 686).
16 We know very little about Zhao Shi. He was apparently a member of a rich and
influential local lineage. His cousin Zhao Song (趙宋 n.d.), also a close friend of
Lu, was a publisher of Lu’s alchemical writings.
Later Sirs Zhao Zaoyang (Zhao Shi) and Yao met the Master again. Togeth-
er we served as attendants at the Master’s gate (studied with the Master as
his disciples). Months and years went by; every one of us recorded what
has been transmitted to him by the Master. One day, we gathered together
and looked at the records. Even though the order of our records was differ-
ent from each other, their core was the same and the essentials of the Mas-
ter’s teaching were not dissimilar. It was a rare encounter unparalleled in
the past, present and future lives that indeed does not to present itself often.
The meetings between the three companions and the Master was a
communal activity as they met him together as a group. At the same
time, it was a personal undertaking of each of the three friends, as they
made their own personal records. The compilation of the final treatise,
however, was Lu’s initiative. He writes:
I was afraid that, as times had been changing, the Master’s teachings would
fall into oblivion and would not be propagated. Therefore, I cherishingly
gathered the records recorded by me and my two companions, collected
them and combined them into a book. I divided it into three volumes. The
first is called the Fazang 法藏 [Depository of Law], the second is the
Huazang 華藏 [Depository of Ornaments], and the third is the Lunzang 論藏
[Depository of Doctrines]. The Fazang discusses the Dao, the Huazang dis-
cusses the language, and the Lunzang discusses the doctrines.
At the beginning, neither the Master intended to transmit a sacred book,

nor Lu planned to create one. Only gradually, Lu realized the value of
the records he and his friends made and, fearing that the Master’s teach-
ings might be lost, started to compile the treatise. Considering the rec-
ords sacred, he preserved them in their original handwriting and even
vowed to keep them secret. Lu writes:
Each of these contains records made in our own handwriting, which were
stored in our houses. This book could be compared with the Dashun 大順
[Great Compliance] and the Hetu 河圖 [River Chart]. Those who guard it
should know to keep it secret. The Master’s order concerning the Fazang are
especially strict: it should never be exposed! There is a vow to Heaven. This
vow says,” It is better to sell the stolen goods than to expose the Fazang. Let
Heaven be a witness; I vow to never forget this!” (JC 44, 472.2-473.1)
Presently, only a part of the treatise, the two chapters of the Fazang, is
still extant, but we are, nevertheless, able to understand the text’s main
characteristics. In the treatise, Lu describes regular meetings between
immortals and the small group of the three followers.17 The meetings
occurred in various locales, including local Daoist and Buddhist monas-
teries, but they mostly took place at the private houses of the community
members. In 1561, Lu bought a house on the east bank of the Huai River
淮河, which also became a venue for conducting spirit-writing séances.
The text contains few specific details on the rituals performed by the
group members. Nevertheless, Lu repeatedly refers to an altar for ritual
performances and sometimes mentions the community festivals and cel-
ebrations, such as the commemorations of immortals’ birthdays, leaving
no doubt that the group engaged in formal ritual.
Spirit-writing was probably not the only method of communication
with immortals, used by the community members. Lu defines three ways
for immortals to descend to the human world. He writes:
The Perfected descend [to the human world] in three different ways: in
form, in spirit and in qi. Using a sieve 箕, they descend in spirit; entering an
aperture, they descend in qi; if they are visible, they descend in form. (JC 44,
408.2)
That is to say, immortals can descend in their spirit, in their qi, or in
their bodily form. Spirit-writing is a method of communication with the
spirits of immortals. “Entering an aperture” is a technique that allows
immortals to descend in their qi, and probably refers to some kind of
spirit-possession. The community members might have used spirit-
possession as well as other similar techniques, but Lu never explicitly
acknowledges or describes it. It is even less clear how humans can meet
immortals in their bodily form, but the treatise indeed contains many
records of face-to-face meetings with immortals who behave like ordi-
nary humans and seem to have physical bodies. Lu, however, provides
no information on relevant rituals.
17Probably, other persons sometimes participated in the séances. Thus, Lu sever-

al times mentions certain Mr. Gu 顧子 (JC 44,477.2). However, the community
definitely included only three permanent members, as Lu records only their con-
versations with immortals.
Nevertheless, spirit-writing was undoubtedly the core ritual of the

group. Often, Lu explicitly refers to spirit-writing technique. For exam-
ple, the famous physician Hua Tuo 華佗 (140-208) sometimes descended
to teach Lu medical issues and to help him and his family members with
health problems. One day, Hua sent the following message:
Immortal master Hua Qingnang (Hua Tuo) sent a message via a sieve, “I
was thinking about something else, how is your health?” (JC 44, 491.2)
Besides spirit-writing, no other ritual or divination technique is explicitly

mentioned in the text.
The main purpose of the ritual activity of the group was similar to
that of all other spirit-writing communities: to meet the divine and to
record divine revelations. In the treatise, Lu meticulously records con-
versations between the three companions and their divine guests. He
usually writes down the date of a conversation, the name of a person
who asked a question, the name of an immortal or god who replied to it,
and the content of the reply. 18 He earnestly records numerous, often
quite trivial details of encounters with immortals, making his description
very vivid and realistic. The compilation of the records is organized in a
chronological order.
The Sanzang zhenquan is a remarkable treatise. Lu does not create
either a Daoist scripture or a book of moral instructions, or a manual on
alchemical cultivation. The treatise rather resembles a collection of an-
thropological field notes. Unlike a modern anthropologist, however, Lu
studies not the human society, but the world of immortals.
Spirit-writing séances are intertwined with Lu’s career as a writer of
alchemical books. Conversations with divine guests culminated in writ-
ing and publication of Lu’s own alchemical works. The Sanzang zhenquan
has a record of the meeting with the Master in 1564, after which Lu
achieved enlightenment and wrote his first alchemical work. Lu contin-
18 Lu makes no clear distinction between immortals (xian 仙) and gods (shen 神).
The majority of his divine guests are referred as immortals. He uses the term
“god” in some specific cases, referring, for example, to such well-known low-
level deities as the House God (zhaishen 宅神). In this paper, I call all his divine
guests “immortals,” making exceptions only when Lu uses other designations.
ued to write his alchemical works until 1573, while still encountering
immortals in the séances of spirit-writings. We have no information that
Lu and his friends engaged in spirit-writing activity after 1572. The year
1572 is also an approximate date of the publication of the first edition of
the collection of his alchemical writings. His last alchemical treatise dates
from 1573, and his commentary on the Zhuangzi from 1576-1578.
The Encounters
Besides Lü Dongbin, Lu and his friends channeled various ancient im-
mortals, famous Daoists, gods of different ranks, Buddhist monks, his-
torical figures, obscure deities, demons, and more. The pantheon kept
changing, as new, previously unknown and often even unidentified dei-
ties descended to teach. Still, Lü Dongbin was a key figure among the
immortals who communicated with Lu’s group, coming more often than
others that included Zhongli Quan 鐘離權, Liu Haichan 劉海蟾, and Lü’s
immortal assistants Suye 素野 and Yulu 玉爐.
These immortals soon came to form part of an extended alchemical
community built around the three main human protagonists. Lu refers to
Lü Dongbin as “master” (shifu 師傅), to Zhongli Quan as “grand master”
(taishi 太師), and to Yulu and Suye as “senior disciples” (shixiong 师兄).
The difference between the immortals and humans within this communi-
ty is often blurred. Immortals frequently behave as if they are humans,
engaging in ordinary conversations. For example,
On the 24th day, at si hour and one ke [about 9:15 am], we faced the Master
at the Circumpolar Altar. The Master chanted, “There ought to be a meet-
ing at the Yellow Crane Tower, an iron flute will be even more silent.” He
ordered us to sit down on the ground. He said that if he spoke too much,
we would not able to remember everything. Therefore, he described his
teachings in a general manner. (JC 44, 497.2)
Divine guests were ubiquitous in the community’s life, appearing at all

sort of time and in various places. As the text records,
On the 28th day, in the evening, I just have finished making records; Patri-
arch Lü suddenly opened the door and entered. He sat down in my seat
and ordered to call student Zhao, who was with Madam Shen. He calmly
said that our will was not strong; therefore, our endeavors were unsuccess-
ful. (JC 44, 500.2)
That is to say, Lü Dongbin enters the room suddenly, without any invita-
tion or preliminary ritual activity: he can open the door and seems to
have a physical body. He even knows the most intimate details of the
personal lives of the members of the community: he knows that Zhao is
with Madam Shen. He is, apparently, not happy about it, pointing out
that the will of his disciples is weak and, therefore, their endeavors are
unsuccessful.
Immortals take an active part in the personal life of Lu and his com-
panions. They help Lu to heal his wife and children, assist Zhao with the
organization of a funeral, and always express their concern for the com-
munity members’ well-being. Relations between the humans and immor-
tals may be quite emotional. When immortal Yulu is ordered not to de-
scend anymore, he reacts to this order with genuine grief:
On the 26th day, in the morning we invited the grand master to descend,
but senior disciple Yu suddenly descended and immediately bade us fare-
well. He said, “The Master’s orders are very strict, I may not talk to you a
lot.” Then, he started to cry and departed, weeping in great grief. (JC 44,
518.1)
In addition to spirit-writing, the divine guests may descend through

spirit-possession, in dreams, and even as real humans. Frequent visita-
tions by the deities mean that the community members, albeit still living
in the human world, are to a certain extent joining the world of immor-
tals. Alchemical cultivation became a journey to the world of immortals.
Still, Lu and his friends are not full-fledged members of the world
of immortals, but ordinary humans. They often do not know what im-
mortal they are going to meet or are unable to recognize their divine visi-
tors. Yao Gengsheng once had the following dream:
Sire Yao said, “Last night I also had a strange dream. I dreamed entering a
grotto-residence. I saw more than eighty Perfected there. Among them, I
recognized only the Patriarch. Auspicious clouds were drifting in the sky,
the music of immortals sounded majestic and sonorous. There were peach-
es as big as pumpkins, the Perfected peeled and eat them, and their happi-
ness was boundless.” (JC 44, 487.1)
In the dream, Yao meets more than eighty Perfected, but recognizes only
one of them, Lü Dongbin. He describes the majestic gathering of Perfect-
ed, but makes no effort to interpret its meaning. The quotidian encoun-
ters with the divine guests notwithstanding, the community members
have only a vague understanding of the world of immortals.
There always remains certain distance between the three compan-
ions and the divine guests that does not allow the latter to descend in
their full form. Alchemical cultivation becomes an attempt to shorten
this distance in order to meet the divine in its completeness. The form in
which immortals descend depends on the community members’ success
in self-cultivation. Lu once asked Yulu why ordinary humans are unable
to see the bodies of immortals:
I asked, “Do gods and immortals have bodies?" Senior Disciple Yu replied,
"They do. However, gods and immortals who come here now are all com-
ing in their spirits; their bodies are not coming." I replied, “If gods and im-
mortals have bodies, why do they not let humans see it?" The senior disci-
ple replied, “When you pass seven-tenth of your way of self-cultivation,
you will naturally be able to see it. Today we meet through spirit-writing.
Seeing is achieved gradually.” (JC 44, 513.2)
The world of immortals gradually reveals itself to the community mem-

bers. As the time goes by, Lu and his friends meet more and more divine
guests and understand the world of immortals more and more deeply.
At some point, they even take part in great gatherings of immortals, pre-
sided by the highest-ranking immortal in the Sanzang zhenquan, Grand
Patriarch Meng 孟太祖 (Meng Taizu).19
19 GreatPatriarch Meng is the highest-ranking immortal in the Sanzang zhenquan.

Lu also refers to him as grand master Meng 孟太師 (Meng Taishi) and grand
patriarch Meng 孟教主 (Meng Jiaozhu). Lu calls him a man of Zhou (zhouren 周
人), so he was apparently born during the Zhou dynasty (周 1045 BC – 256 BC).
He is probably the same immortal whom Lu once calls Immortal Meng He from
the Southern Palace (Nangong liexian Meng He 南宮列仙孟河). It is not clear
whether this figure corresponds to any known Daoist immortal.
However, immortals never reveal themselves to the humans com-

pletely. When the world of immortals and the world of ordinary practi-
tioners converge, immortals stop descending.
The Master said, “I have already completed the transmission of the Way. In
tranquillity, you should contemplate about it. This hour, this day, this
month, this year I part with you forever. From this time on, other immor-
tals will also stop descending.”
I asked, “Why is this so?”
The Master said, “It is not that the ways of the immortals and humans
are separated. When the ways of immortals and humans are different, im-
mortals descend; when the ways of immortals and humans converge, im-
mortals leave. I am leaving to carry out the teaching of the age.”20
I duly prepared paper and ink and asked the Master to write the mes-
sage. The Master said, “Originally I wanted you to record this, but you
have already memorized all these words by heart.” Having finished speak-
ing, he departed. (JC 44, 488.2)
Lü here says that he has already finished the transmission of the Dao.
Because Lu Xixing does not need the divine help any more, the Master is
prepared to help those who do need his help – this is what he probably
means by “carrying out the teachings of the age.”
Immortals did not stop descending after the above conversation
after all, and the community members were still able to communicate
with divine guests for many years to come. Yet the above conversation
shows that the human knowledge of the world of immortals is bound to
be incomplete. When a practitioner starts cultivating, he is still unable to
see immortals clearly. As he begins to achieve success, immortals may
stop descending.
Spirit-writing creates a new alchemical community that includes
both humans and immortals as its members. Divine guests, who behave
like humans, establish intimate connections with Lu and his friends, and
give them a chance to closely watch the world of immortals. Spirit-
writing transforms alchemical cultivation into a process of gradual
recognition of the true form of immortals.
20 Shijiao
世教, lit. the teaching of the age, usually means the teaching of the sages,
the way of Confucius and the Duke of Zhou 周公.
Yet, the community members’ knowledge of the divine world re-

mains limited and vague. The success in cultivation draws them closer to
the world of immortals, but at the same time prevents them from seeing
the true face of the divine. Spirit-writing creates a liminal state between
the human world and the world of immortals and makes an alchemical
cultivation a journey in the twilight zone between the two worlds.
The Teachings
The teachings of the immortals as recorded in the treatise are numerous
and not limited to internal alchemy. They teach about medicine, Feng
Shui, and exorcism. They debate external alchemy, sexual practices,
mind cultivation, and secret formulas (koujue 口訣 ). Even Buddhist
monks sometimes descend to discuss various aspect of Buddhism.
The main purpose of the meetings with immortals is to help the
community members in their self-cultivation practice. Immortals, how-
ever, never transfer alchemical knowledge in its completeness. Their in-
structions are situational, fragmentary, and vague. Immortals not only
teach alchemical knowledge but also create an air of uncertainty that
prompts Lu and his friends to seek their own answers to alchemical
problems.
Immortals’ instructions on alchemical cultivation are contextual. It
is obvious that they adjust their teachings to the community members’
progress. In the beginning, they may even refuse to give instructions. For
example, once the Suye told Lu and his friends,
My master blames you for having meagre virtue. He accused me of trans-

mitting knowledge too easily. Your mercury has already been accommo-
dated; it is up to you how to deal with it. 21 From this time on, we are not al-
lowed to discuss it. (JC 44, 477.1)
This conversation occurred shortly after Lu started to interact with

immortals. At that time, Lü Dongbin seemingly considered Lu and his
companions to be unworthy to receive his transmission yet, so he con-
demned Suye for transmitting the secret knowledge too easily.
21 Mercury (gong 汞) here refers to the spirit or mind of a practitioner.

In content, moreover, the teachings change over time. In the begin-

ning, the immortals mainly teach basic mind cultivation. Later, they ex-
plain more advanced aspects of alchemical teaching, such as the “pluck-
ing the drug” (caiyao 採藥). In the end, they even discuss the final stages
of alchemical cultivation: the formation of the yang-spirit (JC 44, 513.1-2)
and the technique of “entering the womb” (toutai 投胎) (JC 44, 523.2).22 It
is thus evident that the immortals accompany Lu and his companions on
all stages of their alchemical journey.
In addition to matching the members’ cultivation progress, the
teachings are also relevant to their everyday life, and sometimes they
descend unexpectedly to help the community during crucial moments. A
case in point is the following:
On the first day of the 10th month, after sundown, we have just finished to
refine a drug and started to nourish it.23 Suddenly Master Zhongli Quan
descended and, flaunting his sleeves around, began to sing, "Heaven and
Earth are numinous, creation and transformation are covetous, the day of
destiny has not come yet, and mind is a beholder." In this way, he, dancing
and singing, passed inside and outside the house several dozen times. Then
he sat down on the ground and ordered us to sit down in a row. (JC 44,
486.2)
Divine guests demonstrate detailed knowledge on how the disciples’

cultivation proceeds. Thus, in the following passage the grand master
descends to help fix some problems in preparing an external elixir:24
22 Eskildsen (2006) calls the practice of “entering a womb” and similar techniques
“emergency death meditations.” Their purpose was to help an alchemist “to
avoid passing into a disembodied or subhuman state” (Eskildsen 2006: 373) in
case he was not able to form a yang-spirit and achieve immortality.
23 In this passage, Lu describes the process of preparing the external elixir (wai-
dan 外丹). Lu and his companions practiced external (laboratory) alchemy for
many years, and the Sanzang zhenquan contains many relevant instructions. Lu
calls external alchemy the Earth Prime (diyuan 地元) and considers it not an al-
ternative but rather an integral part of internal alchemical cultivation. I discuss
this issue in more detail in my dissertation (Mozias, in progress).
24 Lu refers to two immortals by the title “grand master,” Zhongli Quan and
Meng He. Here he probably refers to Meng.

On the 29th day, we were cleaning a tripod in a wing-room on the east of

the altar. Suddenly, the grand master arrived. He ordered us to cover the
tripod with a lid and said that at this time the drug in this tripod is already
too old. The senior master ordered us to stop refining it. He promised to
descend again at the chen hour (7-9 a.m.) on the 3rd day of the month and to
transmit us something else. Because at that time Zhao was busy with his
family affairs, the time of the meeting was changed to the chen hour of the
13th day. (JC 44, 516.2)
Here Lu does not describe the content of the grand master’s instructions,
but rather puts them into the context of time: a specific moment in the
process of refining the drug, the time of the day and the date. The ma-
jority of instructions of immortals in the treatise refer to a particular
problem encountered by a particular practitioner on a particular stage of
cultivation on a particular day and time.
The community members meet various immortals whose instruc-
tions may sometimes contradict each other. In the following episode, Lü
Dongbin refutes the instructions given by another immortal:
The Master asked, "Is the elixir of you two already ready? Who taught you
to dry up the mercury so recklessly?" I replied, "Master Xuanzhen ordered
us to do so." 25 The Master said, “Even studying with me, you do not study
properly. Your understanding of the teaching is not profound enough, qi is
again leaking out, fire phasing has not been adjusted, you are short of the
mother-ingredient and your virtue is deficient. How could you possibly be
able to gather the drug completely?” (JC 44, 478.1)
Lu’s own instructions, however, may also be unclear or incomplete. Lu

comments on one of such instructions:
Note: Since my companions and I are only beginners, the Master stopped
the discussion here. Yet, it is indeed the practice of cultivating oneself with
a jade liquid. It should not be slandered. (JC 44, 474.2)
25Master Xuanzhen 玄真子 is an ancient immortal. His biography appears in

several collections of the biographies of immortals. See e.g. Xu xianzhuan 續仙傳
(Sequel to Biographies of immortals, DZ 295).
The Master’s instructions seem to be so vague that Lu feels it necessary

to defend their truthfulness, arguing that their incompleteness reflects a
low level of the practitioners’ own achievements.
Not all communications with immortals contain valuable
knowledge. Sometimes, Lu and his companions become observers who
watch divine guests’ performance and try to guess what message this
performance is supposed to convey:
On the 11th day of the 8th month, we offered congratulations to the Master
Embracing Mystery (Liu Haichan) on his birthday at the Circumpolar Tow-
er. 26 We have finished congratulating the Master, but senior disciple Yu
did not come. Suddenly, a very martial and fierce god descended. He un-
tied a sword, which hanged [on the altar?], put it on the waist, in big strides
walked several times around the altar, with a brush wrote a message,
which said that he was secretly sent to inquire after [our?] traces. When we
again met another day, he retrieved the sword to the roof beam and de-
parted. (JC 44, 511.1)
Lu diligently records a martial god’s ritual performance, but he cannot

discern its purpose and meaning.
The instructions are personal, contextual, not universally true, and
may contradict each other. The community members not only receive
and record the divine instructions, but also actively participate in the
transmission of alchemical knowledge. They openly express their doubts,
ask questions, compare instructions received at different times or from
different immortals, and reflect on their own cultivation and life. Immor-
tals are interlocutors who urge them to contemplate over the deep al-
chemical secrets. Sometimes, such contemplation may lead to enlight-
enment. Lu writes:
After parting with the Master, I recorded his words and immediately start-
ed to meditate. All of a sudden, I attained truthful understanding and
wrote the following poem, which I presented to the Master:
Right between the end of one month and the beginning of the next,
Lu calls Liu Haichan the Master Embracing Mystery Liu (Hanxuan Liu Shi 含
26
玄劉師), or just the Master Embracing [Mystery] (Han Shi 含師).

The two parts of the tally merge with each other.

Nothingness contains being, being returns to nothingness.
Watch how the end of one month becomes the next:
The waxing crescent moon on the geng day.27 (JC 44, 487.2)
Lu starts to meditate immediately after the meeting with the Master. He

achieves enlightenment and writes a poem that expresses his under-
standing of the essence of alchemical cultivation. Conversations with the
divine guests culminate in Lu’s enlightenment and writing.
Immortals actively participate in the cultivation of the members of
Lu’s community. They descend during crucial moments of cultivation,
give instructions and adjust their teaching to their disciples’ cultivation
progress. However, they sometimes give no instructions, and their ap-
pearance during crucial moments of cultivation may be more important
than the content of their teachings. They neither give complete answers
to the community members’ questions, nor dispel their doubts. They ra-
ther embody the process of intellectual inquiry and prompt the commu-
nity members to think, to contemplate, and to transform themselves.
Conclusion
Do alchemists need to communicate with immortals? Lu never explicitly
claims that one cannot succeed in cultivation without communicating
with immortals. Yet, immortals play an important role in the cultivation
of his community. They accompany Lu and his friends on all stages of
alchemical cultivation and help them to achieve enlightenment. Alchem-
ical cultivation became a journey to the world of immortals in the com-
pany of immortals. This approach to alchemical cultivation seems to
uniquely suit those literati who wish to practice internal alchemy with-
out leaving their habitual social circle.
Lu and his companions try to change themselves without changing
their everyday lives. They waste no time in the search for a true human
27 Geng 庚 indicates the 3rd day of a lunar month and symbolizes the beginning of
a new cycle of transformation. It is a part of the matching stems of the moon
(yueti najia 月體納甲), a system that correlates the lunar phases with the heavenly
stems (tiangan 天干) and with the trigrams of the Yijing.
master – great immortals themselves come to teach them alchemical se-

crets via spirit-writing. They need not abandon their wives and children
in order to be able to cultivate unperturbed—the twilight between the
world of humans and the world of immortals, created during the spirit-
writing séances is the ideal “space” for cultivation. They ought not to
stop their intellectual pursuits – alchemical cultivation is the loftiest of all
intellectual endeavors. The ritual of spirit-writings transforms their ordi-
nary life – the life full of doubts, uncertainty and constant self-
reflection—into the life of alchemical cultivation. Paradoxically, Lu and
his companions meet immortal beings in order to remain ordinary hu-
mans—even in their quest for immortality.
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Daoist Ritual Manuals in Vietnam
Self-Cultivation, Cosmic Steps,
and Healing Talismans
EKATERINA ZAVIDOVSKAIA
Abstract
This paper examines visual representations—charts, talismans, and drawings—
in Daoist ritual manuals contained in a collection of about 200 Chinese-language
manuscripts from the Sino-Vietnamese border. Today kept in Taiwan, they pre-
sumably belonged to ritual specialists of Zhuang and Yao ethnic minority groups.
This paper provides detailed analysis of many common graphic and pictorial
images featured in Daoist manuals omnipresent in south China and, as this re-
search shows, neighboring Vietnam. Used during the ritual of salvation of the
soul of a deceased, these manuals present numerous talismans that formed part
of the healing techniques practiced by Daoist priests.
Returns and Reversions

About 200 Chinese-language manuscripts with Daoist ritual manuals
from the Sino-Vietnamese border, today kept in Taiwan, presumably
belonged to ritual specialists of Zhuang and Yao ethnic minority. Some
of them contain graphic representations called either “seven returns,
nine cycles” (qifan jiuzhuan 七返九轉), or “seven returns, nine reversions”
(qifan jiuhuan 七返九還).
The term originally relates to practices of internal alchemy. Here
“seven” represents fire, “nine” stands for metal, and “seven returns, nine
108
Zavidovskaia, “Ritual Manuals in Vietnam” / 109
reversions” means to use fire to melt metal. Doing so, practitioners revert
metal to its original nature, obtain the immortality pill, and reach the
highest rank of sainthood, a rank known as Gold Immortal of the Daluo
Heaven (daluo jinxian 大羅金仙). The idea is to return or revert (fan 返,
huan 還) to Dao and cosmic origin (Robinet 2011; Baldrian-Hussein 2008).
Song-dynasty Numinous Treasure (Lingbao 靈寶 ) adepts on Mount
Tiantai practiced “the salvation of the living and the dead; they were
linked with practical exterior methods using cosmological correlations
and the force of thunder as well as with interior techniques patterned on
inner alchemy” (Despeux 2000, 515). This matches what the manuscripts
describe.
The first work to examine is manuscript V34. Its title is not legible,
but it gives the Daoist name of its recorder as Daochang 道昌 and the
date as dingmao 丁卯, i. e., 1867 or 1927. Typologically similar to V30, dis-
cussed previously (see Zavidovskaia 2017), here seasons are also con-
nected to heavenly marshals, but with a stronger emphasis on their
summoning.
The beginning of the manuscript looks incoherent and may well
describe a ritual of the salvation of the dead, transferring them to be re-
born or become immortal (chaosheng 超生), not unlike requiems or uni-
versal salvation rites (pudu 普渡). Although showing only few thunder
characters, the text belongs to school of Thunder Rites (Leifa 雷法) and
frequently mentions the Thunder Lord (Leigong 雷公).
Many passages also deal with visualization. “Imagine that this star
enters the Heavenly Palace” (tiangong 天宫), a major sphere in the sky, it
says, and, “Imagine summoning many stars, visualize your own body as
their receptacle and parts of your face like gates.” The text also associates
the inner organs with marshals and matches the fingers to the Perfected
of the Ten Directions (shiji zhenren 十極真人). Other visualizations in-
clude the ringing of a bell, celestial officials summoning demons, the or-
gans and elixir fields in the body, as well as the breaking of an egg.
In line with classical Thunder Rites, where internal alchemy was at
the heart of the Daoist therapeutic and exorcist ritual (Despeux 2000, 471),
the text here seems to describe how an officiating priest performs the
procedure of “rotating” his vital energy (qi 氣) to establish contact with
the Thunder deities and save the soul of the deceased.
Fig. 1
Page 38 of V34 (Fig. 1) shows a picture in the context of a liturgy

that fights pestilence, portrayed in the shape of a snake. It depicts a
method of making a royal boat for the king or god of pestilence (wen 瘟),
made of paper and sent off along the river or burned to signify the ex-
pulsion of demons. Here the boat is also associated with parts of the
body. So the ritual of sending off the King of Pestilence on a flower con-
nects to the spleen. Two human figures appear to be a Daoist priest,
shown once face forward and once with his back. His hat and a pole are
decorated by a shining pearl.
The same text, on pages 45-46 (Figs. 2-3) shows specific diagrams
that can be split into pairs of lines with cyclical symbols. The first shows
the “nine returns”: kidneys→ heart→ liver→ lungs→ spleen→ Cinnabar
Chamber→ Energy Gate→ Gate of Life→ Divine Palace (part of the celes-
tial Wei 尾 constellation). The “seven reversions,” depicted next, include:
veins→ qi→ blood→ essence→ bones→ marrow→ bodily form.
They probably are linear versions of the Nine-Star circular diagrams
discussed earlier (Zavidovskaia 2017), but it remains unclear whether
they represent actual physical movement or are purely about interior
action. In any case, they relate to the central thunder deity called
Tianting yuanleisheng Puhua tianzun 天應元雷聲普化天尊, also known
as the Thunder Ancestor (Leizu 雷祖).
Fig. 2 Fig. 3
Fig. 4 Fig. 5
On page 54 (Fig. 4), the diagram reads top to bottom, describing the
process when the soul is taken to the terrace for the deceased souls. In
the position si 巳, it transforms into a perfected. The central diagram,
then, has five cyclical symbols with the names of five perfected, such as
Heavenly Born (Tiansheng 天生) Unchanging (Wuying 無奐), Dark Ver-
million (Xuanzhu 玄朱), Full Central (Zhengzhong 正中), and Baby Cin-
nabar (Zidan 子丹).
The next page (Fig. 5) gives instructions to “chant this ten times to
isolate the demons” while using “the palm to close the demons’ gate,”
the one among the three gates—plus humanity and the gods—that leads
out from the infernal world. The ceremony is typically performed on the
last day of the 7th lunar month, or after the ritual of universal salvation. It
also involves shutting off the demons’ route in the belly, closing the
earth door, i. e., the mouth, and blocking the gate of humanity, i. e., the
nose, through which the demons might enter the body. To the left we is a
diagram with eight symbols that features one return and six reversions.
The manuscript stands out due to its intensive use of this alchemical
method, known previously mainly for personal self-cultivation in the
context of a ritual for the dead.
Cosmic Steps
Book 3 is a work most likely of the Yao 瑤 tradition, famous for its rich
pictorial works, nowadays rapidly snapped up by tourists. It presents
another diagram showing rituals of cosmic stepping or “pacing the void”
(bugang 步罡). This comes in two forms.
[The first] begins usually from the star closest to the celestial North Pole.
Then, in accord with an ancient, universally accepted numbering of the
stars, the walk leads through the eight trigrams arranged in the pattern of
the Luoshu 洛書—commonly following the sequence of numbers from the
so called magic square. (Andersen 1989, 17-18)
Linked with the medieval school of the Three Sovereigns (Sanhuang 三

皇), here generally each step comes with an incantation: the adept, stand-
ing in the position of the star, evokes the image of its deity (1989, 39).
Its second form is the Pace of Yu (yubu 禹步), closely related to the Celes-
tial Masters (Tianshi 天師). Here “the master follows the outline of a con-
stellation or of a cosmic diagram. Through the dance, he is taking pos-
session of the constellation’s or the magic square’s forces” (Schipper 1996,
85). In the Vietnam manuscripts, the Luoshu version is almost omnipres-
ent, but Book 3 is different.
Page IMG 7133 (Fig. 6) depicts several Dipper constellations. Four
diagrams have the Northern (7 stars), Southern Dipper (6), and Eastern
Dippers (6), leaving out the Western and Central Dippers, maybe be-
cause they are lower in the hierarchy. Two constellations of four un-
named stars each sit around the central part that shows the top Daoist
heaven, Daluo tian 大羅天; plus, there is a five-star constellation beneath
the Southern and Eastern Dippers.
Page IMG 7148 (Fig. 7) has an image of a Daoist, preceded by a pic-
ture of a sacrificial boat (Fig. 8), used to send the soul of the deceased to
the otherworld, more specifically to the Western Heaven (xitian 西天).
Page IMG 4178 (Fig. 9), moreover, seems to show a procedure of taking
the soul across the bridge from hell, releasing it from the Iron City
(Tiecheng 鐵成). Here the stars of the Northern Dipper next to the Daoist
priest appear from the bottom up, showing seven real instead of the ca-
nonical nine and expressly mentioning their names.
Book 3 also provides several “cloud” style talismans, notably on
page IMG 7200 that activate the bearer during the morning audience. On
the following page, the talismans go together with characters “master”
and “treasure,” while others work during major festivals or purgations
(zhai 齋), i. e., liturgies for the living, and provide protection when com-
mencing distant travels. In addition, there is also a talisman for the twen-
ty-four nodal periods of the year.
A talisman topped with human head appears variously, e. g., on
page IMG 7204 (Fig. 10), matching comparative images in the Daoist
Canon associated with the Numinous Treasure (Lingbao 靈寶) school of
the Song dynasty (Figs. 11, 12). The text says that this type of talisman
should be burned for best effect. Further pages, moreover, show three
human figures each, possibly depicting Daoist priests or the Three Pure
Ones.
Fig. 6
Fig. 7 Fig. 8
Fig. 9 Fig. 10
Fig. 11 Fig. 12
Rites of Healing
The manuscript V99 has neither title nor front page. Its first part consists
of a set of addresses and memorials to various deities, with no talismans.
Some characters are supplemented with Vietnamese writing in ballpoint
pen. Page 76 has a partial memorial to the Lord of the (Yellow) River and
the Tortoise King, the water official of the eight seas. Another page men-
tions of Annam 大南國 and relates how a local believer got sick. Divina-
tion reveals that “the red hibiscus tree (fusang 扶桑) from the Water De-
partment (shuifu 水府)” is to blame, but that the Great [Jade] Emperor,
duly summoned, will descend to the altar and reveal a divine spell to
expel the illness.”
The text excels in the outstanding artistic value of its drawings, the
refined brush of its calligraphy, and the exquisite talismans of various
structure, which seem to be produced by a different school. Page 161 (Fig.
13) shows thunder characters in circles combined with the instruction:
“Hold the talisman in your left hand and engage your essence. With the
fingers of your right hand make a hand seal [mudra] and pierce the tal-
isman with it. This causes the deities to descend to the altar.”
Page 162 (Fig. 14) reads: “The first talisman cures all sickness and
the evil that caused the disorder. Install a lamp installed on the bottom
[at the patient’s feet?] and direct the head of a patient lying on the bed
upward. This imitates prison. Next, wrap up parts of the body with yel-
low paper.”
The talisman to the right shows the figure of a patient, some parts
painted in yellow, indicating the wrapping of the body. The top presents
the names of top deities in circles, notably the Three Primes (Sanyuan 三
元). Ritual masters worship them in their human form as generals Tang
唐, Ge 葛 and Zhou 周, and also as the celestial Three Officials (Sanguan
三官). Along the patient’s body write: “Evil enters into prison, life arrives
from outside, the demon is suppressed.”
In addition, the text lists manipulations on body that symbolize the
five thunders deities catching, handcuffing, and beating the offending
demon. Cowering beneath the patient’s feet, the ferocious malevolent
entity is suppressed while the patient has both hands and feet hand-
cuffed. The lowest line reads: “Smash the nasty demon! Smash the nasty
demon!”
Fig. 13 Fig. 14.
Page 163 further instructs that one talisman should be taken with
water, presumably after it is burned, to be effective inside the body. It
can make the patient experience spirit powers (shentong 神通) and comes
with the incantation: “I use the rope to catch the demon!”
Page 164 (Fig. 15) talks of “using yellow paper and vermilion ink”
while showing two human figures, one above the other, being attacked
by metal and fire. The chant runs, “Standing on one foot, I handcuff the
demon, tie him up with yellow and vermilion. As they serve as a medi-
um, the power enters the drawing, and creates a beating without num-
ber.” Here the priest stands on one foot and performs the Daoist magical
calculation liujia 六甲, a type of divination associated with the sixty-day
cycle (Andersen 1989 33). The demon is driven to hell.
Fig. 15 Fig. 16
Pages 165-66 outline how to ask the one-foot spirit general to sum-
mon myriads of gods, including the Lord King of the East and the High-
est Lord Lao, to enter the talisman and expel all evil. There is a ritual of
cosmic steps, complete with incantations. In addition, priests ask the no-
torious divine warrior Heisha to enter the body of the patient and kill the
demons, using various seals (yin 印) with the names of deities. “I capture
and beat on Heaven and Earth at each hour, day, month, year…” Some
talismans here are to be buried in the ground, others are used in lanterns
that stay lit until recovery.
Page 167 (Fig. 16) depicts the process of descent into the under-
world prisons to suppress the demons there. It shows a human figure
with crossed legs, his torso marked with the names of the three corpses
or deathbringers who, on each night of the gengshen 庚申 day, report the
person’s the misdeeds to the heavenly authorities, then punish him with
sickness and pestilence (Qin 1994, 321; Maspero 1981: 330-39; Kohn 2015).
The depicted figure also has a space for the bearer’s name and a formal
note to the Department of Pestilence. The talisman signifies that some

force has been dispatched to bind and destroy the demon, marked on the
body at head, chest, and feet, where its influence is most potent. In add-
tion, blocks are put on the sides of the body.
Fig. 17 Fig. 18
Page 168 (Fig. 17) has a talisman depicting the suppression of the
demon in the center as he is attacked by spirits described as numinous
entities (ling 靈), incense is placed all around, and four types of demons
are left outside. The top shows the removal of other magical influences
coming from spirit writing and talismans, shackles. The bottom shows
the dissipation of evil influences and all illnesses. This talisman is to be
carried on the body.
The talisman on page 169 (Fig. 18) serves to eliminate evil influences.
Made in the shape of a human figure, it should be kept at the head of the
bed. The sides of the body show orders to great generals (dajiang 大將),
inside the body’s contours there is a command that all evil from the “ac-
tual body” (zhengshen 正身), as opposed to its replica, the paper effigy
(tishen 替身), is to be dispatched driven to prison. Five knights and five
officials stand near the shoulders of a figure. Human figures on Pages
184, 185 (Figs. 19-20) are to be made or yellow paper with use of cinnabar
ink, they represent the generals of the five directions as specified above
their heads. Their purpose is to catch and defeat demons causing pesti-
lence and cleanse their area of control. They are placed in the five corners
or around the sickbed. All the figures have the corpses drawn in the
chest area. The generals of the north and south seem to provide stronger
protection, given the talismans on the contours of their bodies. They rep-
resent a Thunder Rite centered on destroying evil forces by means of
thunder military deities (Reiter 2011).
To sum up, the manuscript V99 stands out because of its elaborate
talismans used in rituals of healing contagious diseases and pestilence.
Daoist talismans were widely used to cure and block pestilence, com-
monly found both throughout China and its adjacent regions. From a
structural perspective, the talismans can be described as a visual repre-
sentation of the ritual act itself: they use many details and symbols that
imitate the priest’s actions of pointing at demons and expelling disease.
In addition, they also depict the internal agents within the patient’s
body responsible for illness or well-being, such as, most importantly the
three corpses or deathbringers. Some talismans use a human figure as
the replica of the patient’s body, subjecting it to exorcism. In another case,
the talisman depicts only the head, an incantation written beneath it.
However, the ritual affects the replica, even if partial, and its effect car-
ries over into the person’s actual real body.
“Rain” Talismans
There are many talismans with special characters in the manuscripts that
are difficult to figure out. What exactly is their system? What are the
principles of their composition?
Fig. 19 Fig. 20
Most obviously, they tend to consist of the word for “rain” (yu 雨)
plus something below, putting together various characters and radicals
according to context and often also using the word “demon” (gui 鬼).
Such talismans seem quite similar to those usually drawn by Daoist
priests for sundry purposes, such as those shown in Henri Doré’s Re-
searches into Chinese superstitions (Fig. 21; 1914) and collected by Alexeev
(Fig. 22; 1910, 37; also Zhang and Wu 2014; Liu 1999).
Fig. 21 Fig. 22
For example, the talisman in Fig. 21 uses three characters containing

“rain” at the top, indicating the three highest heavens. This is followed
by three characters containing the radical “demon” and four with the
word for “food.” 1 Talismans in manuscripts from Vietnam, too, use
“rain” as a header, forming part of a sacred word, a feature sometimes
called “rain header characters” (yugaizi 雨蓋字; Zhang and Lee 2005, 44).
Here the word “rain” is more than just rain: it signifies thunder in all its
potency. The talismans accordingly fulfill an active function in the ritual
texts, implying the use of thunder to fight, block, and expel evil forces
and demons of disease. They enhance the power of both text and ritual.
As Catherine Despeux says,
A number of texts, especially since the Song ritual compendia, describe the
rules that apply to the proper drawing and preparation of the talismans, in-
cluding preparatory measures, proper times and conditions as well as ac-
1 For studies of talismans both in historical context and in terms of struc-

tural typology, see Chen 1942; Drexler 1994; Liu 1995; Liu 1999.
companying visualizations. Few instructions, on the other hand, have come

down to us regarding the composition of diagrams. (2000, 534)
Scholars so far have not come to any firm conclusions about the
meaning of the “rain header characters.” I find that they follow a fixed
pattern, but show a variation of elements that may well depend on the
ritual specialist working within his own hereditary tradition. Despeux
also mentions that drawing a talisman happens in two phases—
separating the shape (sanxing 散形) by tracing the elements one by one,
then putting them together to assemble the shape (quxing 取形). This
method is often used in Thunder Rites:
Fig. 23 Fig. 24
It allows the clear distinction of the originally separate elements that creat-
ed it; in others, the various parts are meshed together inextricably so that
the talisman becomes one integrated whole. A good sample for the latter
are certain talismans used in thunder rites where the overall pattern ob-
scures the various internal parts. (Despeux 2000, 534; see also Liu 1999,
106)
V 142, page 5, shows these “rain headers” in the process of creation

(Fig. 23). The text above and below describes the sequence of adding the
brush strokes. In addition, there is also the process of “walking” along
the cyclical symbols, which signifies separating and assembling the tal-
isman.
V99, Page 161, in addition, first presents a prayer: “May the
Tiangang 天罡 star of the Northern Dipper give me power to fill my
body with perfect energy and blow the divine power into the talisman!”
(Fig. 26). Then it shows a string of thunder talismans, all consisting of
“demon” plus various other radicals, signifying different effects upon
nasty sprites. It also has instructions: “Hold the talisman with your right
hand and blow on it with incense; pierce it with the fingers of your left
hand held in the form of a hand seal.” This procedure will make heaven-
ly generals and troops descend to and dispel demons.
V98, of the same author and owner as V99, devotes its first pages
purely to talismans, with some variations (Fig. 25). The intended subject,
a demon or evil person, is taken into a circle so that various forces can
attack it from all directions. At the top, the talismans show the standard
vignette signifying the Celestial Master ordering all evil forces to dis-
perse.
Fig. 25 Fig. 26
V100, page 26, next, contains a number of talismans whose structure

imitates the human body (Fig. 27). They include characters on the head
as well as written formulas on the torso, specifying its purpose and two
lines that describe the sequence of pacing the Northern Dipper. The low-
er part of the body seems to be associated with demonic forces concen-
trated there.
Fig. 27
The calligraphy in V 100, page 29, proves that the manuscript belongs to
the same author and tradition as V98, V99 (Fig. 28). The page starts with
a talisman to be placed at the head of the bed. It shows an eye and says,
“The eye holds sun and moon.” Above is a string of cyclical symbols,
clamped down between eight demons. To the left it shows a “talisman of
the eight arrays of the mysterious altar” to be consumed with water.
Here the eight trigrams are accompanied by combinations of characters,
differing from one another in symbolic writing.
Fig. 28
Fig. 29
V48, page 16, several times uses the world “prohibit” (jin 禁) in talismans
that otherwise mainly employ the radicals for “sun,” “moon,” “mouth,”
and more, together with the regalia of the Celestial Master (Fig. 29). Simi-
lar talismans resembling human figures became quite common after the
rise of Thunder Rites in the Song.
V56 has neither title nor front page. Page 2 is an example of the
combination of active visualization (xiang 想), awareness of the inner
organs, and application of cyclical symbols plus “rain header characters”
(Fig. 30). It probably serves in a procedure of opening the demon gate for
general salvation while pacing the Luoshu. The composition of characters,
with occasional other elements, like a bar under “rain,” should be read in
context. Generally there seem to be two traditions: special talismans that
present a separate entity containing magical and healing powers; and,
more commonly, “rain header characters” spread through the entire li-
turgical text, enhancing the potency of the work as a whole.
Fig. 30
Miscellaneous Diagrams
Further manuscripts contain pictures and diagrams that—as far as re-
search shows so far—differ from standard motifs, showing that even
highly conservative Daoist ritual manuals, which normally present in-
formation accessible only to trained adepts, may yet have individual var-
iations.
V143-2, page 292 035 presents a combination of trigrams, rain head-
er characters, cyclical symbols, and the word for “sun” on the right (Fig.
31). It may well depict the process of the soul’s passing into the abode of
the immortals (xianjie 仙界). The page also shows four “thunder” charac-
ters, representing the heads of nine demons who are taking their pleas-
ure (le 樂) but are now put behind bars (ge 格). Then there are Queen
Mother of the West and her partner, the Lord King of the East as well as
images of wells water, the trigram for “land.” All this signifies well-
being, the soul’s “entering the Hall of Bliss” (futang 福堂).
Fig. 31 Fig. 32
Page 292 049, on the left, presents a diagram of pacing the stars to-
gether with an incantation of Thunder Ancestor: “The body of the priest
becomes the North Pole, the Lord Lao, and the roar of the lion” (Fig. 32).
To the right, it has a chart possibly showing a visualization system of
protection for the priest’s body. One of the protectors is the Perfect War-
rior Zhenwu 真武 (here written 镇武), with the prayer: “May the Great
General of the Thunderbolt protect my body!”
Page 292 051 has an illustration of more details, including a cup of
clear, probably hot, water to drive away nasty sprites and a long snake
that dispels demons (Fig. 33). The rain header character contains the
word “imperial” (yu 御), joined by a picture of a Seven Star sword of the
Celestial Master.
Fig. 33
Another relevant source here is V28, entitled Xinlu guigu xiansheng

gua ke 新錄鬼谷生先卦科 (Newly Recorded Divination Rites of the Mas-
ter of the Demon Valley), a rare text relevant for ancestor worship. It is
dated to 1910, the forth year of Dyu-Tân 維新肆 (1907-1916), and the
owner’s name is Su Shunqing 蘇順慶.
The work presents of divination methods related to various histori-
cal or legendary figures, mainly of the Warring States period: Jiang Tai-
gong 姜太公, Emperor Wu 武帝, the Duke of Zhou 周公, and Lü Dongbin
呂洞賓 (Fig. 34). Each name is accompanied by a combination of five

“sun” and “moon” characters, plus their various combinations, ranging
from auspicious through neutral to inauspicious. It may well reflect a
Confucian type of divination.
Fig. 34
Page 39 presents a chart that determines which taboos (ji 忌) family

members have to observe with regard to their deceased ancestors (jiagui
家鬼). Its central panel gives the number of days in the lunar month,
while various lines point to days best for prayers for the living and the
dead. This impacts the good fortune of the living as well as the well-
being of the family’s life stock (fig. 35).
Folder 5 is another divination book, consisting of thirty-six pages. It
begins with methods of divination for various life matters, such as select-
ing lucky dates to do certain things. Then it deals with diseases, reflect-
ing the belief that ailments are the result of an unwholesome interaction
with deceased parents, spirits, or ancestral tombs.
Fig. 35
For example, on page IMG-00015, the text has ballpoint writings in

Vietnamese, says, “See urine channel sickness and sand, child`s disease,”
or maybe “See child`s disease of Hung,” referring to cases when children
suffer fever. Page IMG-00017 again repeats this phrase and includes the
names of local deities, otherwise unknown.
Another big part of the text deals with divination for marriage, us-
ing cyclical symbols, the five phases, and more. The five emperors of the
five directions are particularly efficacious in selecting the right wife.
Conclusion
The various ritual practices documented in this collection of manuscripts
from among ethnic minority groups rural North Vietnam share a great
deal of similarity with those in neighboring Guangxi. It is most likely
that the manuals were transmitted from China, but it is hard to track
down earlier or even parallel Chinese versions, as much as it is next to
impossible to determine their relationship to the more standard texts
included in the Daoist Canon. Most manuscripts present a variety of
methods for different ritual purposes. They tend to be truncated or cor-
rupt, often highly abbreviated, reflecting a long history of being copied,
abridged, and recompiled to serve as handy tools of local Daoist priests.
The practitioners of these liturgies may belong to either of two cate-
gories. 1) Daoists (daogong 道公) or non-celibate priests, masters of civil
altars (wentan 文壇), who claim to belong to the Maoshan 茅山 and
Zhengyi 正一 schools. Reciting Chinese scriptures, they work both in
North Vietnam and throughout Guangxi. 2) Ritual Masters (shigong 師公)
or masters of military altars (wutan 武壇), who define themselves as as-
sociates of the Meishan 梅山 school. They perform rituals in Chinese and
also in Zhuang, as documented in works using the old Zhuang script.
The texts mention both schools and lineages. Their priests can per-
form rituals in Chinese, but they may also cooperate with local shamans.
They make ample use of Chinese and Daoist cosmology and take fre-
quent recourse to diagrams, such as the ones described above. Most
common among them are those showing how to pace the Nine Palaces or
the Luoshu, closely followed by thunder talismans, notably with rain
header characters, as well as divination charts. They all serve the needs
of the community, the living and the dead, activating healing and mar-
riage as much as for mortuary and salvation rituals.
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Forum
on
Contemporary
Practice
Daoism and Peacebuilding
Toward an Agenda for Research and Practice1
ASHLEY SOUTH
There are profound yet underexplored connections between Daoism and

peacebuilding. The yin-yang symbol represents the dynamic unity of
distinct yet interrelated forces; the borders between yin and yang are
fluid and, at certain points in cycles of energy, interchangeable.2 This is a
recognition of difference within a broader understanding of complemen-
tarity. Yin-yang theory recognizes the inevitability of change and the
need for skillful management and transformation of conflicts. Peace is a
key concept in Daoist philosophy—not as static harmony but as vibrant
and living balance—and the Daoist classics have much to say about war-
fare, both in principle and in practice.
There are some striking similarities and comparisons between the
rich tradition of Daoist practices, philosophy, political theory, and litera-
ture and applications in the field of peacebuilding as developed in the
context of peace studies and international relations in Western academia
1 Many thanks for help and suggestions to my taiji teacher, Keith Lorenz; to Pro-
fessor John Rudy; and to my dear friends and teachers, Mark Raudva and Caro-
line Ross. Thanks also to Michael Woods and Norman Ware for help with manu-
script copyediting.
2 The ultimate reality of Dao is one, but there is little we can know or say about
this; phenomenal reality begins with dualism (taiji—the concept) and proceeds
toward multiplicity or the ten thousand things (Daode jing 1, 42).
137
and by aid agencies (nongovernmental organizations [NGOs], the UN,

etc.). These connections have not previously been analyzed beyond gen-
eral comments. This article offers some tentative perspectives from
which the Daoism/peacebuilding nexus might be explored, and sketches
elements of a proposed agenda for research and practice.3
Peacebuilding
Daoist visions of peace appear mainly in the classics, particularly the
Daode jing, the Zhuangzi, and the Sunzi bingfa (Art of War). Here as else-
where peace is an “essentially contested concept,” 4 meaning different
things to different actors. It looks different to a villager in a war zone, to
a refugee, to a government—or rebel—soldier, to a businessperson look-
ing to invest, to an NGO aid worker, or to an international diplomat
(Richmond 2007). Definitions of peace often include notions of tranquili-
ty and calm; a more limited definition, and the primary one adopted
here, is the idea of peace as the absence of violence—peace does not im-
ply lack of conflict but, rather, the nonviolent management (and poten-
tial resolution) of differences.
For the purposes of this essay, peacebuilding is taken as aiming to
reduce and control levels of violence without necessarily addressing its
root causes. Going beyond conflict management to address the underly-
ing issues and inequalities that structure conflicts, its activities generally
involve a commitment to transformative action on the understanding
that conflict is caused not only by direct violence but also by underlying
systems of structural violence. These terms were first developed in the
1970s by the Norwegian sociologist Johan Galtung, who argued that
peacebuilders must address the root causes of conflict by building capac-
ities for conflict management/resolution and transformation among other
3An example of the “plural integration” of (ancient) Chinese and (modern) West-
ern political theory is provided by Alex Karmazin (2016)
4“Essentially contested concepts” reveal different meanings, with different im-
plications, for different actors; see Gallie 1962, 121–80. On different nations of
peace from a multicultural perspective, see Dietrich et al. 2011.
South, “Daoism and Peacebuilding” / 139
strategies. Galtung (1996) developed an agenda aimed at transforming

unjust social and political structures, in order to build equitable peace.
Another key founder of peacebuilding as an academic enterprise
and field of practice is the sociologist John Paul Lederach (2003). For him,
peacebuilding needs to engage both with political elites and with mid-
ranking and grassroots actors, including (but not limited to) NGOs and
other civil groups. Although less explicitly political than Galtung, Leder-
ach introduced the concept of “conflict transformation,” holding that
conflict is a natural and normal part of life and that these energies can be
changed in positive ways (in the personal, relational, structural, and
deep cultural dimensions). Over the past two decades, peacebuilding
practice has become diverse and somewhat professionalized.
However, the field is not without its critics (Richmond 2007). Inter-
national acknowledgment—or co-optation—of the peacebuilding agenda
owes much to UN Secretary-General Boutros Boutros-Ghali’s 1992 Agen-
da for Peace, which defined post-conflict peacebuilding as “action to iden-
tify and support structures which will tend to strengthen and solidify
peace in order to avoid a relapse into conflict”, and called also for greater
efforts at 'preventative diplomacy'.
There is broad agreement and extensive scholarly exploration re-
garding how religious ideas and practice can contribute positively to-
ward peacebuilding (Dietrich et al. 2011). There is also a good deal of
historical and contemporary evidence indicating that religion can exac-
erbate and drive violent conflicts (Jeong 2000). This seems to be particu-
larly—although not exclusively—true for the exclusionary or fundamen-
talist elements of the Judeo-Christian and Islamic faiths.
A survey of the literature reveals little on the relationship between
peacebuilding and Daoism, beyond some discussion on the importance
of understanding local contexts and the valuable resource that religion in
general can be toward resolving conflicts and building peace. For exam-
ple, the Palgrave International Handbook of Peace Studies explores the no-
tion of “transrational peace,” in which non-Western ideas and influences
are deployed to extend and deepen the meaning and practice/experience
of “peace,” moving the concept toward a more spiritual, postmodern
dimension. Despite a passing reference to Dao (Dietrich et al. 2011, 13),
the emphasis is on other religions and traditions. Similarly, the Wikipe-
dia discussion of religion and peacebuilding includes subsections for
Judaism, Christianity, Islam, Baha’i, and Buddhism but nothing on Chi-

nese religions or cultural traditions.5
Despite the lack of in-depth case studies, I assume that individuals,
groups, and networks are engaged in Daoist peacebuilding, but this
work is not in the public domain. In the project sketched here, it will be
important to respect confidentiality and privacy, particularly in the con-
text of an esoteric tradition such as Daoism, and the need to protect sen-
sitive peacemaking and peacebuilding activities in conflict-affected areas.
Nevertheless, it should be possible to develop a body of analysis and
some guiding principles. As an initial contribution, this essay sketches
some parameters of what the study of Daoism and peacebuilding might
look like.
Daoism
According to the Daoist classics, the sage cultivates “virtue” (de): the
quintessence of positive characteristics, a combination of refined person-
al traits and skillful abilities. The sage is characterized by an ability to
identify phenomena, including potential conflicts, at an early stage of
manifestation, making limited and strategic interventions in order to
guide developments in a fruitful manner and direction rather than wait-
ing until disaster has struck or fruit is already overly ripe.
The cultivation of skillful perception regarding the causes, dynam-
ics, and unfolding of events may be likened to the notion of conflict sen-
5 Of the other major world religions, Buddhism arguably has most in common
with Daoism, both historically and in spiritual-philosophical terms. In the pre-
sent age, activist scholars such as Sulak Sivaraksa have developed philosophies
of Buddhism and peace within a radical framework of spiritual and social transi-
tion. He distinguishes between “priestly,” conservative aspects of religion and
the visionary “prophetic” tradition, with its emphasis on universal love and al-
truism. In The Wisdom of Sustainability: Buddhist Economics for the 21st Century
(2009), Sulak argues that the transformation of unjust social relations “requires
personal and spiritual change first, or at least simultaneously. … Valuing the
spiritual dimension gives voice to humanity’s depth. All descriptions of religious
experience come down to being less selfish” (89).
sitivity in the field of peacebuilding.6 Only a careful and well-informed

reading of contexts and conditions (at the local level in particular) can
produce an analysis sufficiently attuned to the possibilities of emerging
conflict. As a body of practice and reflection, Daoism fits well with
peacebuilding, understood as a multifaceted and flexible art rather than
just a toolkit of techniques.7
Peacebuilding interventions must be carefully timed. There are situ-
ations in which intervention is unlikely to produce a successful outcome,
and may expose would-be peacebuilders to harm; skillful interventions
need to be timed and targeted. In some contexts, a realistic assessment
may lead to the conclusion that no positive intervention is possible; ra-
ther, it is necessary to wait for the right circumstances and the best loca-
tion. It is better, therefore, to intervene early, at the first signs of trouble,
rather than wait until large-scale violence and conflict have already at-
tracted media and political (diplomatic) attention, by which time violent
conflicts may be far more intractable and difficult to resolve.8
Daoism is sometimes called the “watercourse way” (Watts and
Huang 1975). Like water, the Dao flows through the courses of least re-
sistance. Energy (qi) can be dammed or pent up, but this is generally
considered unhealthy, leading to resistance and possibly the unleashing
of destructive energies. Rather than encountering confrontation, energy
wants to be led by the skillful sage (or politician) and directed toward
more creative channels. Daoist techniques—including forms of medita-
tion, taiji quan, qigong, acupuncture, fengshui, some martial arts, and
other energy-oriented practices—are tools for guiding or leading energy
toward healthy dynamics. i. e., the unobstructed flow of qi.
6 Conflict sensitivity involves understanding the context and dynamics in which

violence plays out and in which external interventions operate. See Handschin,
Abitbol, and Alluri 2016.
7 Thanks to Jon Rudy for this insight (personal communication, October 27, 2016).
8 On the level of interpersonal relations (intersubjective psychology), disputes are
better resolved after one or both parties’ emotional force has been somewhat
spent, rather than trying to engage head-on with a torrent of feeling during the
height of arousal. In the words of my teacher, Keith, “we empty behind the forci-
ble opponent, letting that force spend itself; then very little effort is needed to
lead the opponent” (or, if necessary, to send him or her tumbling).
More advanced practices, including inner alchemical meditation, go

further, seeking to transform energies—including the refinement of base
impulses into higher spiritual currents and the transformation of pain
and hatred into creative love.15 This body of theory and practice devel-
oped and elaborated over millennia, can be applied to the management
and transformation of violent conflicts. The approach is already richly
distributed throughout Chinese history, including symbolic and meta-
phorical references in some texts and ritual or religious practices. How-
ever, the Daoism of peacebuilding has not been explicitly articulated or
associated with theories and practices developed within the primarily
Western-originated and -oriented field of peacebuilding.
Internal alchemy studies and practices the transformation of emo-
tional energies (e. g., from hatred to love, from pain to joy), and by ex-
tension the transformation of values, identities, and interests (“changing
hearts and minds”).9 It focuses mostly on transformation of the personal
as well as interpersonal; less well explored at the alchemical level is the
application to politics and social structures10—although this is a major
concern of Daoist philosophical texts such as the Daode jing. Thus, Daoist
philosophy and practice are also relevant to the study and transfor-
mation of societies, through wise leadership, the cultivation of virtue,
and the avoidance of distractions/desires.
As a holistic philosophy, Daoism eschews monocausal explanations,
working with complexity in a manner compatible with modern systems
theory.19 This includes identifying timely junctures for action and finding
opportunities to reframe narratives. Such analysis and activities would
conceivably form part of the larger project, envisioned to explore the
connections between Daoism and peacebuilding.
Daoist peacebuilding should not be about the suppression of con-
flict and the imposition of a particular view of peace, but rather about the
skillful and nonviolent management of differences. Daoist approaches
would recognize and work with politics and contention rather than seek
to redefine contested sites and issues as technocratic problems.20 As such,
9See Cleary 1986; Chia 2008. I am indebted to Walter Kellenberger for this insight.
10Arguably, one of the great “problems of religion” is how to move from person-
al enlightenment toward social transformation. Thanks to Miomir Arandelovic
for this insight.
the emphasis would be on identifying and working with (and upon) un-
derlying causes rather than being distracted by surface phenomena. This
would be in line with “deep” approaches to peacebuilding (as per Gal-
tung), seeking to address structures and cultures of violence, rather than
surface-level attempts to stop fighting and build peace. As Alan Watts
argues,
[T]he Taoists are saying, then, that seen as a whole the universe is a har-
mony or symbiosis of patterns which cannot exist each without the other.
However, when it is looked at section by section we find conflict. The bio-
logical world is a mutual eating society in which every species is to prey
of another. But if there were any species not preyed upon by another, it
would increase and multiply in its own self-strangulation, as human be-
ings, through their skill in defeating other species (such as bacteria), are in
danger of disrupting the whole biological order (Watts and Huang 1975,
51–52).
Watts here claims Daoist endorsement for the notion that some forms of
violence may be inevitable in order for ecological systems to be balanced.
Failure to recognize this and act accordingly would block the natural
development or working out of energies and potentially cause more
harm than good as, for example, in the form of an overflow of potentially
violent energies. Watts invokes the Daoist principle of mutual arising:
“[T]he Taoist view of nature was not sentimental. It recognized that vio-
lence had sometimes to be used, but always with regret” (Watts and
Huang 1975, 53, 82). Furthermore, evil and suffering can only be known
because of their opposites (Daode jing 2).
“Just War”
What does Daoism have to say about the causes and conduct of armed
conflict?11 The subject can be approached through an examination of just
war theory (Jeong 2000, 62–64), a doctrine of military ethics developed
11Ferguson (1990), argues that development assistance tends to depoliticize con-

tentious issues by reframing them as amenable to technical solutions implement-
ed by government in partnership with aid professionals, rather than as sites of
political struggle, as is often the reality experienced by local communities.
initially by Western medieval (and arguably earlier) theologians. The

doctrine seeks to ensure that wars are initiated and conducted in an ethi-
cally defensible manner. While the horror of war is acknowledged, Just
War theory regards this as potentially the lesser of two evils under cer-
tain circumstances (i. e., in order to prevent even worse suffering such as
massive human rights abuses) and thus becomes a rationale for liberal
interventionism. The doctrine consists of two sets of criteria: jus ad bellum
(the right to go to war) and jus in bello (right conduct within war).
The criteria for just cause include that 1) the primary reason for go-
ing to war must be just (obviously arguable, depending on how the
terms are defined, it might be argued that war is always unavoidable); 2)
innocents must be in imminent danger and can be helped by military
intervention; 3) the injustice suffered by one party must be significantly
outweighed by the suffering of the other (comparative justice); 4) only
duly constituted authorities may wage war (competent authority); 5)
force may be not be used for subsidiary. i.e., unjust reasons (right inten-
tion); 6) the likelihood of a successful outcome must outweigh the suffer-
ing caused (probability of success); 7) force may be used only after all
peaceful and viable alternatives have been tried and exhausted, or as-
sessed as unworkable (the principle of last resort); and 8) anticipated
benefits are proportionate to the endeavor’s expected evils or harms (the
principle of proportionality).
The criteria for just conduct of war include: 1) acts of war should be
directed toward enemy combatants and not at civilians (distinction); 2)
combatants must ensure that any harm caused to civilians or their prop-
erty is not excessive in relation to anticipated military advantages (pro-
portionality); 3) an action must be intended to help in the defeat of the
enemy (military necessity); 4) aggression must be launched against a le-
gitimate military objective; that the fair treatment of prisoners of war and
civilians is ensured; and 5) combatants may not use such vile methods or
weapons as rape or weapons of mass destruction.
The Daode jing admonishes:
Counsel [the ruler] not to use force to conquer the universe

For this would only cause resistance.

Thorn bushes spring up wherever the army has passed.
Lean years follow in the wake of a great war. (ch. 30)
Weapons are instruments of fear;

They are not a wise man’s tools.
He uses them only when he has no choice …
If you rejoice in victory, then you delight in telling; if you delight in killing
you cannot fulfill yourself …
That is why victory must be observed like a funeral. (ch. 31)
Sunzi’s Art of War is required reading for students at many military col-
leges. In the introduction to his translation, Thomas Cleary argues that
“in Sunzi’s philosophy the efficiency of knowledge and strategy is to
make conflict altogether unnecessary. … The Superior militarist foils en-
emies’ plots; next best is to ruin their alliances; next after that is to attack
their Armed Forces; worse is to besiege their cities” (1991, xi). Again, ac-
cording to Cleary, “Art of War wars against war. … It infiltrates the ene-
my lines, uncovers the enemy’s secrets, and changes the hearts of the
enemy’s troops” (1991, xiv). Strategies of deception (e. g., ch. 2) are seen
as utmost strategic wisdom on the part of Chinese generals (although
secrecy may be antithetical to peacebuilding practitioners’ agenda of
transparency and openness).
In introducing the alchemical The Inner Teachings of Taoism, Cleary
provides a near characterization of Daoist “just war” theory:
Taoism is not sentimental and has always recognized the reality of war.
Rather than simply make moralistic pronouncements against war, Taoism
approaches this problem realistically, using two basic strategies. The first
of these is preventative, minimizing the causes of war existing in the hu-
man psyche; the second is palliative, minimizing the trauma of war when
it actually does take place. (1986, vii–ix)
The Art of War has attracted numerous commentaries, many of which

have themselves achieved classic status. It states that “war must be pon-
dered carefully. The man who takes pleasure in war will perish. … War
is not a thing to be enjoyed” (ch. 2).12
The text and its commentaries regard warfare as a great evil, often
producing appalling suffering, particularly on the part of women and
children, who usually constitute the majority of victims. Nevertheless,
like much of the Daoist canon, the approach is pragmatic: war may be
terrible, and everything should be done to reduce suffering to a mini-
mum. But sometimes armed conflict might be seen as the lesser of two
evils. Refraining from war can allow injustice even including mass atroc-
ities, to prevail, potentially entailing far greater suffering than the limited
damage caused by a quick, “surgical” strike.
The “art” of war thus lies in achieving legitimate military-political
objectives while causing minimal suffering. Sunzi’s approach is in line
with other forms of Daoist philosophy and practice, such as internal
forms of taiji quan, which uses softness and subtlety to deflect and defeat
the force of an enemy. 13 This conception of warfare echoes the im-
portance in Just War theory of armed conflict having a just cause and
being undertaken only as a last resort (jus ad bellum), and advocating the
right conduct within war, which should be undertaken in a way that
minimizes suffering (jus in bello).
In the case of just cause, there remain important political questions
regarding who determines this, how, and why. It could be argued that
most wars are unjust (both causally and in practice) and launched for
less than honorable reasons. Nevertheless, a high threshold is required to
argue that this would be the case for all conflicts (World War II against
Nazi Germany is often held up as an example of a just war against an
evil tyranny).
12 Similarly, “[T]he true gentleman … [uses weapons] only as a last resort, es-
teeming instead peace and tranquility. He sees no beauty in victory, to see beau-
ty in victory is to rejoice in the killing of others” (ch. 31).
13 “A force of four ounces deflects a thousand pounds”; see Wang (1985, 37). An-
other important concept in taiji is that if energy is resisted, it tends to push back.
“The softest thing in the universe / Overcomes the hardest thing in the universe”
(Daode jing 42, 76). In the words of my teacher, Keith: “Energy prefers to be led,
rather than forced” (personal communications, April and September 2016).
Another of Cleary’s translations collecting materials on Leadership

and Strategy, distills further dimensions of Daoist wisdom. In his intro-
duction, he argues that “warfare is one of the paradoxical symbols of
ancient Daoism, being the epitome of conflict and violence but also rep-
resenting a way of ending violence. … [The Taoists’] conceptions of just
and unjust wars [are] parallel with their comparisons between balanced
and exaggerated individuals” (1992, ix–x). Among the pithy statements
recorded are that “a degenerate society is characterized by expansion as
imperialism. … [K]illing innocent people … is not what armies are really
for. A militia is supposed to put down violence, not cause violence”
(1992, 26–27).
Furthermore, the “sage’s use of arms is like combing hair or thin-
ning sprouts: a few are removed for the benefit of the many” (1992, 59).14
Echoing Art of War (and taiji practice), according to Cleary the ancient
masters argue that “the supreme attainment of a just military action is to
finish its mission without fighting” (1992, 61)—an achievement that re-
quires “unfashionable wisdom and an unfailing Way” (Dao) (1992, 64).
In their writings “On Peace,” the Masters observe the importance of
what modern-day humanitarians might call “resilience”: “[I]f you are
modest, frugal, and disciplined, that will produce wealth for you” (1992,
77). Throughout this and other Daoist classics, wisdom—and not being
overly damaged by conflict—is repeatedly stressed as coming from the
elimination of desire and escape from attachments and anxieties (e. g.,
1992, 79–81; nonattachment is also a key concept in Buddhism).
As noted above, the sage or wise ruler is characterized by sensitive
attention to developing phenomena, so that problems can be headed off,
or positive developments cultivated, before they reach the critical level:
14An argument for liberal/humanitarian interventionism might be: “[W]hen they

hear that a neighboring nation oppresses its people, they [effective leaders] raise
armies and go to the border, accusing that nation of injustice. … The coming of
the armies is to oust the unjust and restore the virtuous. … The conquering of the
nation does not extend to its people; it removes the leadership and changes to
government, honoring excellent knights” (1992, 61). However, a note of some-
what cynical realism is also apparent: “When large groups attack small groups,
that is considered bellicose; but when large nations annex small nations, that is
considered smart” (1992, 88).
“refinement of attention means to consider problems before they arise, to

prepare against calamities before they happen, to guard against faults”
(1992, 106)15—doctrines that may be compared to notions of preventative
diplomacy, or early warning of emerging conflict (Boutros-Ghali 1992;
Jeong 2000, 202-03).
Conflict Transformation
The conflict transformation approach is best illuminated through two
peace processes I am most familiar with: Mindanao (southern Philip-
pines) and Myanmar (see South and Joll 2016). In both countries, Ethnic
Armed Organizations (EAOs) have long struggled for self-determination
against states that are experienced by ethnic minority communities as
culturally alien, and economically and politically dominant. EAOs in
both contexts are characterized by complex combinations of “greed” and
“grievance” factors but nevertheless enjoy significant (albeit contested)
political legitimacy among the communities they seek to represent, on
the basis of the grievances and political aspirations they articulate.
In both contexts, moreover, EAOs face significant challenges mov-
ing from insurgency to reinvent themselves as credible political actors
and governance authorities. Thus, the peace process between Manila and
the Moro Islamic Liberation Front represents a rare example of a Muslim
minority pursuing its political objectives through structured dialogue.
Also, in both contexts, peace processes underwent significant setbacks in
2015–2016.
In the Philippines, there was a failure to translate a political settle-
ment to decades of armed conflict into necessary enabling legislation. As
well as unfortunate incidents on the ground, lack of support for the legis-
lation among legislators also reflected the Filipino public’s unfamiliarity
with the Moro cause and an absence of understanding and sympathy for
it. The history of Mindanao is not covered sufficiently in history text-
books or the mainstream media, and Moro figures are mostly written out
of historical narratives of the Filipino nationalist movement. Most Filipi-
15“Sages do things while they are still small and thus can overturn the great”
(1992, 115). “The beginnings of fortune and calamity are subtle, so people are
heedless of them. Only sages see the beginning and know the end” (1992, 117).
nos, particularly outside Mindanao, do not appreciate the historical in-

justice and struggle of the Moro people and the legitimacy—and reason-
ableness—of their political claims. The establishment of the Bangsamoro
autonomous region and a sustainable solution to the armed conflict will
only be possible with a significant attitude change among the Filipino
majority.
Similarly in Myanmar, as a consequence of decades of military rule,
many people have little understanding of the history and situation of
ethnic communities, particularly those in the conflict regions. Most
members of the Bama majority community have been denied opportuni-
ties to learn about the struggle and suffering of their ethnic brethren.
Myanmar has already suffered intercommunal conflict in relation to
widespread discrimination against the Muslim community. There is po-
tential for cynical and populist politicians to mobilize prejudice against
the “other” in relation to the Muslim community, and also potentially in
opposition to ethnic nationality demands for self-determination, includ-
ing federalism. There is therefore a need in Myanmar to educate the
Bama majority regarding the grievances and aspirations of ethnic na-
tionality communities to preclude potential populist and divisive efforts
to undermine a political settlement.
In both contexts, deep, equitable, and lasting peace requires a trans-
formation of individual and intercommunal relationships, including a
reimagination of state-society relations and changes in basic attitude
(“hearts and minds”). This type of peacebuilding will have to go beyond
elite-level political negotiations, toward transformations of identity and
interest and a rechanneling of psychosocial energies.
How would the sage add value in such contexts? Under propitious
circumstances, he or she might advise the prince, whether a sovereign
government, insurgent commander, community leader, or humanitarian
diplomat, and/or contribute to media debates or academia. Timely and
practical advice may be invaluable, to prevent suffering.16 On other occa-
sions, it may be appropriate to “let them fight it out” (Luttwak 1999), and
so the sage might head up into the mountains and wander in the mists,
16“To escalate conflict is easy, to de-escalate, rare”: Mark Raudva, December 9,

2016 (personal communication).
leaving the world to its own devices. Ultimately, the sage follows his or
her heart-mind. Thus, in the Zhuangzi, various protagonists
accepted difference as given. They discoursed upon the nature of the heart
and they sought a unity proceeding from the heart. By such concerns they
sought to unite everyone in joyfulness and to harmonize all within the
boundaries of the oceans. Their greatest desire was to see this achieved
everywhere, by their efforts. They could face insults and not be disturbed;
they struggled to save the people from warfare; they aimed to prevent ag-
gression and to silence arms and thus to deliver future generations from
violence. In pursuit of such ideals, they walked across the whole world,
advising the high and teaching the low, and even though the world would
not listen, they just continued even more strongly and would not give up.
So it is said that high and low were tired of seeing them, but they never
gave up putting themselves forward. (Palmer 2006, 300)
An Agenda for Research and Practice

This essay contributes preliminary thoughts toward developing a peace-
building research agenda with a modest commentary on Daoist wisdom
and ethics. It is offered on the understanding that the person who knows
rarely tells, and vice versa. Next steps might include collecting concrete
examples of Daoist peacebuilding in practice—including activities and
interventions that could be so characterized, without necessarily being
framed explicitly in these terms. The approach sketched here would be
interdisciplinary in academic terms, with relevance hopefully to histori-
ans and political scientists, and scholars of Asian studies, religious stud-
ies, and peacebuilding.
This project may be of particular interest to Chinese scholars, practi-
tioners, and policy makers. The rise of China has seen renewed interest
in the soft power embodied in five thousand years of cultural history
and wisdom (Jacques 2009). Chinese (in particular state) actors have mo-
bilized elements of Confucianism and other cultural traditions (Kam-Por
2011) to enrich and empower China’s doctrines and practice, including in
the field of international engagement. The Daoist tradition has much to
contribute toward a distinctly Chinese theory and practice of transforma-
tive peacebuilding. This may be particularly relevant as China begins to
engage more in multilateral forums in the field of peacebuilding (e.g., in

Afghanistan and Myanmar).17
Daoist literature and practices cultivate and express a deep connec-
tion to the natural world. The project conceptualizes the earth as a living
being (or holistic system), and often an object of violence, exploring Dao-
ist approaches to environmental sustainability, healing, and justice.
There is an urgent need to find ways of managing conflicts with
love and compassion during a period of potentially violent readjustment
in the context of widespread geo/political upheavals (including the rise
of populist nationalism around the world, the growing impacts of cli-
mate change, and widespread migration crises). As a Christian, I find the
threaded pearls of Daoist wisdom both inspiring and instructive, in
stumbling merrily and with many errors along the Way.
References
Boutros-Ghali, Boutros. 1992. An Agenda for Peace. At
http://www.un.org/ga/search/view_doc.asp?symbol=A/47/277.
Chia, Mantak. 2008. Healing Light of the Tao: Foundational Practices to Awaken Chi
Energy. Rochester, VT: Destiny Books.
Cleary, Thomas. 1986. The Inner Teachings of Taoism. Boston: Shambhala.
_____. 1991. The Art of War. Boston: Shambhala.
_____, ed. 1992. The Book of Leadership and Strategy: Lessons of the Chinese Masters.
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Dietrich, Wolfgang, et al. 2011. The Palgrave International Handbook of Peace Studies:
A Cultural Perspective. London: Palgrave Macmillan.
Ferguson, James. 1990. The Anti-Politics Machine: Development, Depoliticization, and

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guage, edited by Max Black. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall.
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Civilization. London: Sage.
17Confidential, personal communications from a senior international peacebuild-

ing source (November 3, 2016).
Handschin, Sabina, Eric Abitbol, and Rina Alluri, eds. 2016. “Conflict Sensitivity:
Taking It to the Next Level.” Working paper, Swiss Peace Founda-
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tional Handbook of Peace Studies: A Cultural Perspective, edited by Wolfgang
Dietrich et al., 244–59. London: Palgrave Macmillan.
A Call to China
Daoism in Modern American Fiction
JEFFREY MEYER
I began graduate studies at University of Chicago in 1966, in theology.

By the end of the first year I decided against theology and joined the
field called History of Religions, studying with Mircea Eliade, Charles
Long, and Joseph Kitagawa. Deciding that Chinese religions was my first
interest, I began taking classes in Classical Chinese, learning the lan-
guage in the backwards fashion championed by H. G. Creel. I studied
the first year with a disciple of his, then under Edwin Kracke for the sec-
ond year. Finally, in the third year, I began to learn spoken Mandarin.
After finishing basic class work, I left for Taiwan in 1971 to study at
the Stanford Center in Taipei until the end of 1972. I completed my dis-
sertation and graduated in fall of 1973, beginning at the same time my
teaching career at University of North Carolina at Charlotte.
I did research in visual aspects of Buddhism, studied a sectarian
group in Taiwan that practiced spirit-writing, and continued my work
on Beijing as a sacred city. Already in the 1980s I had the desire to work
on a subject that would be of interest to ordinary Chinese people, so I
changed my focus to investigating how Chinese were attempting to car-
ry on their ancient moral tradition in public schools, first in Taiwan, then
in the PRC. It worked. While left speechless by the sacred city ideas, al-
most everyone I talked to was eager to discuss the (Confucian) morality
as it was presented in textbooks and classrooms.
In the early 1990s, I was asked to be chair of the department, so I
gathered a lot of research material, mostly mountain histories of Wutai-
153
shan, which had become the focus of my interest. I worked on that mate-
rial as much as I could during the next three or four years, enjoying es-
pecially the numinous interventions and miraculous stories sections of
the histories. In 1996 I was diagnosed with emphysema, and I realized
that I would never be able to actually go to Wutaishan. That ended my
interest in pursuing the research. I found I couldn’t do it as purely book-
ish endeavor.
I had expanded my dissertation on Beijing a few years earlier, and
this work was published as Dragons of Tian’anmen by the University of
South Carolina Press in 1991. A few years later, I chanced to meet Jane
Freundel Levey in Washington, the editor of the journal Washington His-
tory. She had spent some years in China, and we talked about the simi-
larities between the two capitals, Washington and Beijing. She wanted a
comparative article on the subject, which I wrote, and this work led me
eventually to publish, in 2001, Myths in Stone, a study of the symbolism
of architecture and planning of our capital.
I retired from teaching in 2008, having had, in retrospect, a rather
scattershot career in all sorts of subjects. I thought about continuing in
one or another of those fields, but eventually realized that, because of the
limitations in the academic study of religions, I felt led to try fiction in-
stead. I have loved every minute of it, feeling engaged in a way that I
had not felt before, a work that engaged my heart as well as my mind.
The result is this novel, A Call to China.
The Novel
The beginnings of this novel go back to 1988, when my wife and I began
to discuss the possibility of adopting a child. I was uncertain about it
until we thought about a Chinese child and the rightness of it struck me
suddenly and powerfully. Of course! It was not the result of a rational
process but an intuitive “given.” That realization helped me to under-
stand that my love for China couldn’t be completely described through
academic and scholarly endeavors, but needed a more emotional expres-
sion. So we did adopt Julia, now 28, shown below at age 16, with me be-
fore a portrait of Mao at Tian’anmen. And although I was not able to
write fiction until I retired, I have been happily doing so ever since.
Meyer, “A Call to China” / 155
Summary and Plot

A Call to China tells the story of a missionary family that goes to China in
1935—Harold and Adele Wayman and their recently born daughter Vic-
toria. In 1940 they visit the colorful and chaotic New Year festival at
White Cloud Temple in Beijing. Victoria is kidnapped by a sectarian
group called Siyishe, the FourOnes, and she is never found. The follow-
ing year a second daughter, Olivia, is born. After Pearl Harbor, the Japa-
nese occupiers force Americans and Europeans into the Weixian deten-
tion camp, where tensions between Harold and Adele begin to signal the
end of their marriage. After the war, Harold remains in Beijing, Adele
takes Olivia back to the States and the little girl conceives, in a childish
way, the idea of returning to China to find her missing sister.
The novel is a Bildungsroman, the story of the growth, education and
maturing of the two sisters, Victoria (given the name Bu’er by the
FourOnes) in rural China, Livia in urban America. Bu’er’s challenge is to
find a true leadership role among the FourOnes. Livia becomes a teacher,
an anthropologist, focusing on women’s religious leadership, which she
begins to study in Taiwan. After much procrastination, Livia finally de-
termines that she will return to China with the explicit aim of searching
for her lost sister. The final part of the novel follows her attempt to find
Victoria, and becomes for both sisters a spiritual quest, a kind of pil-
grimage which ends at Wutaishan, the northern mountains sacred to
Buddhists.
Below, to provide a taste, is a reprint of chapter 24. I picked it be-
cause of its Daoist content. The FourOnes are a sectarian group modeled
on the Celestial Masters tradition. The first part of the reading is meant
to evoke Zhuangzi, his irony and gentle humor, his frequent use of ani-
mals—fish, butterflies, sea birds, roosters, etc.—as pointers to wisdom.
The second part uses the yin/yang paradigm to interpret the fate of the
FourOnes in eloquent terms that win the respect of Bu’er’s sectarian fol-
lowers.
Chapter 24: Finding a Teacher

Shanxi. Spring 1983.
Bu’er’s day was taken up with visiting some of her patients in the vicin-
ity of Old Stonebridge. Along with other techniques learned during her
training as a Barefoot Doctor, she had become a skilled bonesetter. On a
windy and warm day in late May, she borrowed Heiyan’s rusty bicycle
to go see a patient. Old Mrs. Chin’s place was a farm on the eastern edge
of town, north of the road which followed the course of the Dasha River.
The old lady was almost eighty, still in good health, but had fallen on a
stone path above the farm two weeks ago and broken her tibia. Bu’er had
set the bone and promised to return to check it.
As her bicycle bumped along the dusty road, Bu’er was aware of
certain public improvements in the town. Mayor Ma had managed to
hire some rural laborers to scrape and level the main street, filling the
ruts and potholes that had made bicycle travel nearly impossible. Now it
was possible. She noticed the earthen walls of many of the homes had
been recently repaired, bricks inserted, and new mud spread over the
holes and gaps where the old ones had fallen out.
The Jin family had opened a small noodle factory in the middle of
town, and the Zheng family had started a knitting shop that produced
multicolored hats and scarves. Some were kept for the local market, but
most were boxed and shipped to Datong or Beijing for sale to tourists. As
their business increased, the Zhengs had hired five elderly women from
the village who were skilled knitters. There was talk that their increased
production might allow them to expand to foreign markets, such as Ja-
pan. These were signs of a new prosperity under the “reform and open-
ing” program of Deng Xiaoping.
Bu’er pedaled across the old bridge at the town center, glancing out
at the muddy Dasha River that flowed by. A hazy sun was reflecting off
its yellow waters. The location was now famous as the place where
Mayor Ma had stood up to the rogue Red Guard brigade during the last
days of the Cultural Revolution. Her own part in the event was conven-
iently forgotten.
The Stonebridge Party Committee had proposed a modest plaque to
commemorate the event, over the objections of Mayor Ma, who warned
of the dangers of a “personality cult.” She knew that he also hated being
reminded of this ugly chapter in his life. In the end, there was a com-
promise and a small plaque placed there which said merely Bridge of
Courage, without mentioning the event or any names.
Bu’er continued on the road past the bridge, following the course of
the river toward the east, until she came to the last house where Mrs.
Chin lived and raised her pigs with spectacular success. Bu’er stopped
and leaned her bicycle against the shoulder-high earthen wall, peering
over at an enormous sow lying on the ground with distended teats nur-
turing nine or ten eagerly sucking piglets. She had to smile at the sight.
“Ai!” cried Grandma Chin when Bu’er touched the bruised skin
above her cast. “You need to help me get on my feet, not poke at my sore
spots.”
“I’ve been told that before . . . I have a lot of unruly patients. You are do-
ing well, but you should not try to go back to work. Use your cane and
you can get around, but no heavy lifting. You are old now, Grandma,
and your bones are not so strong anymore. They will be slow to mend.”
“I have my business to keep up,” complained the old lady. “I’ve
had to hire Erdong, my niece’s son. He’s a strong fellow but I can’t afford
to pay him much longer or he will eat up my profits, like the pigs gobble
up their fodder.”
“Your prospects are bright. From what I just saw, I can predict a
nine- or tenfold increase in the near future.” The old lady smiled proudly.
Since old man Chin had died three years earlier, the pig business had got
better, an unexpected improvement that puzzled her neighbors, who
thought that Mrs. Chin, without a man’s management skills, would have
to sell her farm.
“Erdong,” she shouted, “make some tea for the doctor and me.
Bring the good cups.” She turned her piercing eyes toward Bu’er and got
back to the point. “How long till I’m up?”
“Perhaps six more weeks. I will come and check you every week.
Maybe, if you have to let go of Erdong, I could find someone of the
FourOnes to help you.”
“Your people are kind, but I don’t believe all that stuff about the
gods and spirits speaking through old Granny Guzhi . . . have they start-
ed talking to you yet?”
Bu’er wasn’t sure whether the old lady was being ironical, but she
thought not. She sensed behind the question a sincere interest. “Grand-
ma,” she said, “that is a troublesome question.” She paused briefly,
swirling the tea leaves in her cup to make them sink. With her new pros-
perity, Granny Chin was now drinking a good grade of Iron Guanyin tea.
“The FourOnes have expected me to become one of their leaders for
many years, but I do not often hear the voices. I have some understand-
ing of things, but I do not know if that knowledge would be helpful to
the FourOnes. The one thing I can do well is to diagnose and heal. I un-
derstand herbs and methods of treatment, as I have been taught by my
teacher, Mingling. You know her. She has treated your husband. Guzhi
has tried to teach me how to go to the spirits, but unlike the art of heal-
ing, I do not believe that can be taught.”
Mrs. Chin look at her intensely and Bu’er was reminded of the
beady eyes of a crane looking for frogs at the river’s edge. “Maybe you
have not found the right teacher.”
“What do you mean? Are you saying that you could be my teach-
er?”
“Ha!” cackled the old lady. “I could teach you only about pigs . . .
but there are many sorts of teachers under heaven and they do not all
walk on two feet! My teachers are right outside the door.”
“Who do you mean? Your neighbors?”
“No, the neighbors are the ones my late husband listened to. The
things he learned were useful but they are not enough. When the neigh-
bors were our teachers, we survived, but just barely. Now with my new
teachers, my pigs have truly flourished and I have prospered.”
“I see you are being deliberately mysterious. You want me to ask
you—who are these teachers?”
“It’s the pigs themselves. They are my teachers.” Bu’er looked at the
old lady’s face more carefully, expecting her to laugh at her own joke,
but she didn’t. Was she becoming senile? “After old Chin died and I
knew the responsibility was mine, I went to the pigs and asked them:
‘What do you want, what makes you happy and fertile pigs?’”
“So you don’t believe that Guzhi can talk to the spirits but think you
can talk to the pigs!” she observed.
“I’m not an idiot. Of course, the pigs don’t speak our language, so I
took my time and observed them carefully. I watched them for hours
and days at a time, listening to the sounds they made, their oinks and
grunts, watching them look for water, for food, and a place of protection
from the sun. I listened to their every sound, watched their every move-
ment, and slow though I am, I finally learned from them. If you doubt
this, look for yourself. The pigs are happy and fat, with many piglets.
And I no longer just survive. My purse is getting fatter. I’d get fatter my-
self if I didn’t have to work so hard.”
“A wonderful story, but how does it apply to my situation?”
“That part is not so easy,” she said, her arthritic fingers clasped
around the rustic tea cup. “You must find your own teachers. You must
think about your own needs and observe things carefully. Then you will
find them and you will learn something.”
Bu’er left Mrs. Chin, having promised to return the following week.
As she rode the bicycle back toward the western part of the village,
thinking over what the old lady had said, she began to consider the pos-
sibility that there was some reason in her crazy ramblings. She began to
see some similarities between her words and what Mingling had taught
her, years ago, about the virtue that resides in every creature, if you ob-
serve it carefully. But you must look beyond the humans, she thought,
who have so many conflicting points of view: Confucians, Daoists, Bud-
dhists, Communists, and Capitalists. Instead of studying these, she
thought, you must study the other creatures who are always there, al-
ways the same, the creatures with legs, wings, fins, and even those who
live but do not move, like herbs, grasses, and trees.
Bu’er, Heiyan, and Guzhi had gone to a farmhouse on the southern edge
of a small town called Zhongduzhuang, some twenty miles west of Old
Stonebridge. Government agents had been investigating them, so they
moved their meetings from one home to another in different towns near
the northeastern border of Shanxi Province. Traveling was a hardship,
but better a moving target than a sitting duck.
The land around Zhongduzhuang was hilly and dry, the clay earth
full of stones, very hard to farm successfully, so the enterprising towns-
folk had taken up brickmaking, and stacks of crudely made bricks stood
next to a kiln on the eastern edge of town. The first signs of prosperity
had appeared, but the town was still too small to attract much attention
and was a safe place for the FourOnes to meet. So they met in the home
of one of the town’s prosperous farmers.
A local member began by complaining to Heiyan. “The government
has been harassing us, on and off, for many years, so we are always feel-
ing anxiety. We do not receive clear directions from the spirits. You, our
leaders, are getting old. You say that sister Bu’er will be our leader, but
she brings us few messages from the spirits. Where do we go from
here?”
Heiyan responded rather formally, intending to address the con-
cerns of all those who had gathered. “Your questions are on the mark. I
have given much thought to them myself, over the last years, especially
since the death of Long Nail. I would summarize our situation as fol-
lows,” he said, speaking in a voice loud enough to reach those crowded
into the back of the room.
“We have made gains. We have created a network of members in
six or seven counties, some here in Shanxi, some in western Hebei. Many
people have been drawn to the rules we live by,” he said in a louder
voice, fearing that some could not hear him.
“We respect the mountains, the waters, the land, and all growing
things. We acknowledge with gratitude the gifts of Heaven and Earth.
We do not seek riches. We do not seek power over others. Both men and
women can be leaders among us. We do not harm humans or animals.
We see all religions as ways to the same goal. We respect our ancestors
and the great spirits. We follow their instructions. All these beautiful
ideals have been heard and accepted by the people who have joined with
us.
“But there have been serious losses, too. Three years ago, the Long
Nail incident almost destroyed us. If Mayor Ma had not quickly shipped
his body back to Fuping and declared him a suicide, we would have had
the Shanxi provincial police or the People’s Liberation Army on our
backs. And worse by far than that were the wounds to our own society.
We don’t keep exact numbers but I think we lost half of our members
because of his death. Many lost faith in our leadership and in our ability
to contact the spirits, and we have not yet regained the number of those
lost.”
The heads of many of the listeners were nodding in agreement.
“Then there is the continuing problem that we cannot practice our
principles openly. To speak the truth, we are like barren mules. We can
pull our loads, but we are infertile and unable to reproduce ourselves.
We exist only in the homes and hearts of our members. To obey the will
of the spirits and to be really successful we must establish beautiful vil-
lages and towns that will create communities of harmony and peace.”
Guzhi spoke up. “We have met so many obstacles over the years.
First there were the war years, then there was the Great Leap Forward
and the starvation, then the Cultural Revolution and the chaos. Then
Long Nail. If the spirits want us to openly establish communities of
peace,” she asked Heiyan, “why have they not made it possible for us to
do so?”
Heiyan answered in the simple way he usually did. “We must have
faith.”
Guzhi just shook her head. “We have been practicing faith and pa-
tience for a long time.”
As the discussion continued, Bu’er listened carefully but did not

speak, sensing that they were approaching a crisis.
“And now,” Guzhi was saying, “the government is again seeking to
destroy us.”
“This has happened before. We must remain faithful through all the
tribulation,” suggested Heiyan, “leaving the time of our success to the
decision of the spirits.”
“Those are the sentiments of a young man,” said Guzhi. “You may
have years left to go through yet another affliction and strength to con-
tinue the work. But I do not. I am almost eighty.” Some of the older lead-
ers shook their heads in agreement, as though some general spirit of
weariness had descended upon them all.
“Hardly a young man,” Heiyan responded. “I am seventy years
from my mother’s womb. I too wonder when the time will come . . . But
what are we to do now? We have asked the ancestors and the spirits and
their answers have not been clear.” A silence fell over the room.
Finally, Bu’er spoke. “Mingling,” she began, “although she is not a
member of our family, has taught me much.”
“Mingling is not one of us,” Guzhi said in her typically abrupt fash-
ion. “She is a good person, but she does not understand our ways and
has not joined our society. I do not think she has answers for us.”
“She has been my teacher for so many years,” said Bu’er, unde-
terred by the criticism, “as have you and Heiyan. But you are right, she
does not see herself as belonging to any group. The nuns of Yindong’an
thought she would join them and she did not. We have hoped she would
join us, but she has not. What I can say is that she is committed to the
people and the cause of their health, and that is no small thing. It is just
that now the Barefoot Doctors are no longer needed, so her service takes
a different form.”
“I sometimes think,” sighed Guzhi, “that Mingling is the only true
communist left in China!”
Heiyan gave a rare laugh. “You had better not let that opinion get
back to the comrades in Beijing.” There were general chuckles among
those present.
“I will continue my thought,” said Bu’er, bringing them back to the
issue at hand. “Mingling is wise about the world. She has opened my
eyes, and taught me to learn from the creatures around us. . . We live in a
vast world, all of Heaven and Earth and everything they embrace. We
humans are only one of the legions of creatures that dwell in them. We
say that we follow the Way, but it was Mingling who taught me how to
discern it.
“You look at a humble thing like a cicada, or a garlic plant, or any
growing thing. Your eyes tend to pass over them so quickly, and you
dismiss them as just an insect, just a clump of grass. But if you look
closely, you see that each is a world in itself. You look carefully at the
wings of that cicada and see a fabric translucent like glass, more delicate
and more beautiful than any human embroidery.
“You look at a bird’s egg and you see a vessel more perfect than the
finest Song dynasty porcelain. What I see most clearly, among all living
things, is an order and a pattern.”
The members of FourOnes listed to Bu’er in wonder, for they had
never heard her speak at such length and with such eloquence before.
“Cycles of yin and yang,” she continued, “growth and decline. Our
society has had its cycles, too. We must observe them carefully. We have
grown and been diminished, and now begin to grow again. It would be
all too human to assume that this growth is destined to continue without
pause. But the law of life around us is one of cycles, of growth and decay,
expansion and contraction, life and death.
“The recent changes in our nation are astonishing. Who knows how
far they may go? Perhaps, for the good of the FourOnes, we must begin
to think in longer spans of time. We must accept that now is not time for
advance but retreat, to hide ourselves once again among the people until
the time is right.
“A few years, one way or the other, is nothing. Larval insects dig
their way under the ground, to rest, to wait, to gain strength, some for a
year’s time, some for many years. Like the cicada, when the time is right,
they will emerge, with wings! The garlic plant withers and retreats into
the bulb that is protected by the soil from the winter cold, so that it can
grow more strongly in the spring. Is this not the message for our society
as well? The cycles of increase and decrease, activity and rest, growth
and decline, will continue all around us, each according to its own na-
ture. Are we alone exempt from the Way?”
The FourOnes present were stunned. When Bu’er had ceased speak-
ing, there was a respectful silence that held as the group looked at her
with new eyes. In a way, she was affirming the advice of Heiyan, but she
did it with eloquence and was able to relate it to realities all around them.
“I do not mean to be so formal,” she added, almost apologetically.
“What I am trying to say applies to everything, even the humblest of
things. It applies even to raising pigs, as I have recently learned from
Granny Chin, but I will spare you the lecture on pigs.”
In her own heart Bu’er knew that although the spirits had not spo-
ken to her directly, the words she had said came to her lips without any
effort on her part. She did not have to think what to say.
Guzhi looked at her, and sensed a confidence that she had never
seen before. She was moved, feeling a smarting in her eyes. Was she
about to weep or was that just the pain of tired eyes? The older she got,
the more easily she wept. She thought of the little foreign ghost they had
taken from her parents many years ago, so fragile yet so strong.
They had tried to protect her, to nourish her as a gift from the spirits,
the one who was to be their leader. It was as if this long history, with all
its ups and downs, was pointing to this very moment. The time of her
leadership was near, and she would awaken something new in their
hearts and minds. She could feel it. Bu’er had faced down the Red
Guards at Old Stonebridge, and now she had begun to speak to the
FourOnes with understanding and authority.
YIN: A Love Story
Daoist Fiction by a Taiji Master
YUNROU
I was initiated as a Daoist monk, with the religious name of Yunrou 雲柔

(Cloud Softness) in 2012 at the Chunyang guan 纯阳观 (Temple of Pure
Yang) in Guangzhou, followed in 2014 by a government certificate that
licensing me to perform ceremonies such as weddings and funerals.
This event was a highlight in a long and varied love affair with
Eastern thought, which I first encountered at age 12. At the time I was
Arthur Rosenfeld, the grandson of Holocaust survivors, living in New
York. Seeing high-ranking politicians and celebrities visiting my father, a
cardiologist of some renown, I found that fame and fortune, the markers
of happiness in modern society, guaranteed nothing of the kind. My
mother was an avid student of philosophy and some of the Daoist and
Buddhist titles in her library piqued my interest. Fascinated, I read all of
them, and shortly thereafter discovered the kung fu movies and televi-
sion shows of Bruce Lee and David Carradine. Unlike most viewers, I
was more entranced by the deep wisdom, subtle awareness, and person-
al equilibrium of the Shaolin monks depicted on the show than I was by
the martial arts action sequences.
As an undergraduate at Yale, I studied Russian literature, began
writing, and was soon published in national magazines. Turning to natu-
ral history at UC Santa Barbara, I also started the practice of martial arts,
focusing on Tang Soo Do, Chinese Kempo, and Yang-style taiji quan.
Continuing graduate studies at Cornell in veterinary medicine, I prac-
ticed further styles of kung fu, such as White Crane, Choi Lai Fu, and
165
Wing Chun. After graduating, I moved back to California, then, in the

mid-1990s, to Florida, where I met my truest teacher, Yan Gaofei, a grand
master of original Chen-style taiji, with whom I have trained ever since.
While continuing to practice and teach spiritual martial arts, I have
also hosted the national public television show Longevity Tai Chi with Ar-
thur Rosenfeld, produced a documentary series on the scientific evidence
for acupuncture, taiji, and meditation, and made a number of teaching
videos. The American Heart Association profiled me as an inspirational
resource in 2016, and I assisted the US Veteran’s Administration in estab-
lishing standards for a national tai chi program. I was keynote speaker at
the 2014 International Tai Chi Symposium in Louisville, Kentucky and
was named Tai Chi Master of the Year at the 2011 World Congress on
Qigong & Traditional Chinese Medicine.
Over the years, I have penned articles for Vogue, Vanity Fair, Parade,
Newsweek, Ebony, The Wall Street Journal, WebMD, Fox Business News, and
other venues, as well as in blogs at www.monkyunrou.com and on The
Huffington Post. My mystery novels, such as Diamond Eye, have been
published to critical acclaim, some even achieving bestseller status, gar-
nering Hollywood options, and earning me various prizes. However, I
found that writing gruesome details about crime and torture did not en-
hance my spiritual development and turned instead toward writing
about Eastern philosophy, religion, and practice.
In that vein, I wrote both The Truth About Chronic Pain (2003) and Tai
Chi—The Perfect Exercise (2013), but focused primarily on fiction, empha-
sizing beauty, spiritual serenity, high moral values, and the importance
of compassion. Blending literature, biology, and medicine with an or-
thodox Daoist education, I aim to propagate Daoist ideas with a focus on
environmental conservation, and political and social justice. My most
recently published novel, presented here, features a famous Daoist char-
acter and is set in ancient China. Translated and published in China, it is
also being developed for film there.
My books are extremely unusual. As my literary agent puts it, “The
good news is, it is fresh, original work, like nothing anybody else writes,
a clean slate of a market. The bad news is, it is fresh, original work, like
nothing anybody else writes, a clean slate of a market.”
Yunrou, “YIN: A Love Story” / 167
The Novel
Wedding my life-long passion for both Daoism and turtles, this novel
arose in me as a way of sharing Daoist ideas inside an adult fairy tale
accessible to anyone. It is rife with Daoist motifs, including the tortoise
that represents Earth energy, the quintessential yin and embodying the
ancient thinker Laozi as Long Ears, the court fortuneteller who nurtures
a passionate desire to create for himself the ultimate companion. Set in
both ancient China and the present day, the novel draws from a cast of
historical characters, including the military strategist Sunzi, the ruler of
the Zhou dynasty, and more.
In the story, Laozi sees a giant tortoise in a dream and dispatches
his assistant to sail across the world, in the company of pirates, to re-
trieve her from what we now know as the Galapagos Islands. Once she is
delivered to him, he uses Daoist magic to turn her into a woman—his

ideal companion. While his magic works, her transformation is slow, and
their love affair remains largely unrequited. After Laozi dies, the tortoise
is buried with him but remains alive, suspended in the permafrost of
northern China, until a storm breaks away a piece of mountain and she is
unearthed. In the company of the young monk who discovers her, her
transformation continues, enabling her to fulfill her destiny.
Chapter 8
War messages for the Zhou Federation were commonly relayed over
vast distances by the thick black smoke of wolf dung fires. The day the
ship carrying the tortoise drew near, one such fire was visible rising from
Jie Shi Mountain, whose peak at the western mouth of the Bohai Sea—
near what is now Beijing—still bears a temple to Liang Liang, goddess of
the ocean. Having been long without news from home, some of the in-
coming sailors construed the smoke as a sign of welcome as the shoreline
came into focus.
To the north lay Shanhaiguan, the Ocean Gate. Dead ahead was
Golden Beach, an expanse of clean sand as long, if not as warmly invit-
ing, as any the crew had seen in the tropics. The aroma of cooking filled
the air with mouth-watering smells. Villagers banged drums in welcome.
Anchoring close in, the captain supervised the off-loading of the cargo.
Some of the men paddled around the familiar water while others went in
search of loved ones. Wang Yi took his clothing and his talismans and
stepped off the ship, the tortoise tucked under his arm.
“I’ll see you at the baths,” Cheng Fu called to him. “I have to pay
my respects to the local headman, and I want you to guide me.”
The shaman waved in agreement even though he had no intention
of waiting. As soon as the captain was out of sight, he made straight for
the marshy Yellow River at the edge of town. He found a fat man sleep-
ing in a shallow-bottom pole boat and nudged him awake with his foot.
“I need you to pilot me to the river.”
The man scrambled to his feet but, looking Wang Yi up and down,
saw only a scraggly sailor.
“In a rush, are you?”
“Very much of one, yes. Could we leave at once, please?”
“You don’t look like you have money.”

Wang Yi flashed a coin. “I am just in from across the world.”
The compensation assured, the boatman pushed off. After an hour
of watching just in case Cheng Fu decided to pursue him, Wang Yi fell
asleep. When he did, the tortoise set about exploring the boat. Discover-
ing the boatman’s black and pungent toenail, it took an experimental bite.
The result was a reflexive kick that sent it sailing into the marsh.
Galápagos island mud is boiled clean by volcanoes, and tortoises
love its soothing properties. The tortoise noticed that this marsh mud—
ripe with insect eggs, trickled-down minerals from the high moraine,
salty marine seepage, and the exoskeletons of marine animals—was an-
other thing altogether. Splashing, it attracted the attention of a circling
marsh eagle. The bird dove with a high-pitched scream. The cry woke
Wang Yi, who jumped into the water, fended off the bird with an oar,
shoved the tortoise back inside his cloak and climbed back aboard.
“Make a wake,” he told the boatman. “I have come far but still have
far to go.”
The Yellow River, with its frequently shifting course and tendency
to flood without warning, has always been China’s sorrow. Wang Yi had
to contend with choppy water, crosswinds, deep channels, and no less
than three portages through stinking muck before transferring to another
boat. Alert for eagles, the tortoise put its front claws up on the gunwale
and watched the parade of oak, birch, elm, ash, linden, and maple trees
along the convoluted waterway.
“What a cute little girl,” the new pilot observed.
“What makes you say it’s a girl?”
“You can tell by her shell’s flat bottom.”
“Some day she will be larger than this coracle.”
The pilot laughed. “Turtles that big are only in legends.”
“She’s a legendary gift for my master, the wizard of Luoyang.”
“You don’t mean Long Ears?”
“None other.”
“You’re lucky,” the boatman sighed. “I’ve always wanted a teacher.
If someone could tell me which mistakes to avoid, I could soar through
life like a crane instead of crawling like a snail.”
After three days, the travelers transferred to a barge pulled up-
stream by oxen. Castles of sand, built by the tide, rose and fell as the tor-
toise snuck bites of fried, spiced insects and sampled green, red, and yel-
low apples brought aboard by local passengers. She discovered pears
and persimmons too, along with the tart taste of kumquats and the glo-
rious sweetness of Clementines.
“Grow as big and strong as you can during these warm months,”
Wang Yi advised on the morning of their arrival at the capital city.
“Summer here can be hotter than you know, and winter is colder than
you can imagine.”
He gave her a big pink bloom to chew. She gnawed her way into its
pollen tube, inhaling the magical scent all the way to the ovule. With fra-
grant dust on her beak, she felt not a care in the world.
“You’ll have a life like a peony now,” Wang Yi told her. “It’s the
flower of Luoyang, and you shall be, too.”
Chapter 9
My eyes have finally begun to process light, rendering the world with
increasing clarity. Even though it is now late afternoon, there is no color
that does not shine for me, no edge that does not glow, no shape that
fails to evoke a remembrance, no shadow that does not pierce me to the
quick. It is a revelation to me that a pulsing fabric of energy pervades
absolutely everything that is, and the power of that perception over-
whelms my ability to interpret the details I see, the first of which is the
face of Athens Li.
His brow evokes an imperial guardsman I knew, his cheekbones a
woman of the court. The bridge of his nose reminds me of a child who
brought me water in the last, old days of the mountain hamlet, and his
lips, pleasingly plump, favor that fat old general Sun.
Yet it is Athens’ eyes that slice me; they bring back strongly the eyes
of Long Ears, that long-dead sage who lives on in my heart. Truly, they
are impossibly the same pair of peepers, a gentle, almost rheumy soft-
ness surrounding centers of solid ice. If my love were any less, I might
distrust such an ancient memory, but as it is, I know those eyes even
without the glorious earlobes that once framed them, even when they are
filled with more seeking and yearning than wisdom. I am disoriented,
distrustful of the world my senses bring me, and unsure of which way is
up.
“Tell me again who you are?”

“I am, at this moment, passing my days as a monk.”
“A monk,” I repeat, still confused, and not the least by the fact that
he can hear me inside his head. “And you say you’re in exile?”
“I ran. I’m here. I’m not running now.”
“But you’re hiding.”
“At least I’m not in a hole. It’s going to be dark soon. It’s time to get
you out of here.”
Opposing forces threaten to pull me apart. I am simultaneously
desperate to explore this world and terrified of leaving the dust of a love
that has sustained me all these years.
“Where will we go? What will we do?” I ask.
Athens looks me over carefully. “You’ve been underground a long
time.”
“I have.”
“Well, you’re back from the dead now. Let’s get you tanked up and
cleaned up and free. We’ll keep going until this dream is over. Sound
like a plan?”
“What dream do you mean?”
“This one. If I’m hearing a turtle’s voice in my head, I’m obviously
dreaming.”
I consider his proposition. My mind has been playing tricks on me
for centuries. Could this unearthing be one more? “But I hear you as
well,” I say.
“I find that rationally symmetrical. How else could we have a con-
versation?”
“If your dreams are rational, you’re missing the point of dreaming.”
“You’re confusing rational with feasible. I’ve eaten square bananas
in dreams, put my thumbprint on the moon in dreams, and now I’ve had
a conversation with a resurrected, giant turtle. Dream or no, there’s no
point in you staying in your hole, so let’s get you out and see what hap-
pens.”
I find the causal, forward drive of his thoughts exhausting. He
seems to be taking in the world in giant steps with angry bees behind
him. Perhaps it is this brutal butchery of the Zhou language that keeps
him constantly thinking of cause and effect and perpetually pressing
forward.
“Before I climb, I’ll need more water.”

He gives me some. My tail recovers its curves, and the soft hollows
around my limbs—long covered only by gossamer skin bearing the im-
prints of stones—begin to fill, though it will be a while until they are
once again as blubbery as in the rich days of attendants and kings, floors
of fruit, and grazing gardens of flowers.
“Ready now?”
“Yes.”
He circumnavigates the pit, developing an extraction strategy. Out
of touch with his body, he moves as if he spends all his time in one posi-
tion and is lost being out of it. He seems an old, young man and, thus,
the opposite of me, ancient yet suddenly young and awake to the possi-
bility that my story might end up in air and warmth and light rather
than suffocating in cold darkness. I smell his sweat as he constructs a
ramp of packed earth and notice that behind it there is a tapestry of
scents far richer than the dank soil in which I have been forever confined.
I inhale so deeply my lungs push against my shell and ache.
“Come on out now,” he says.
I try. Nothing happens. My limbs are thin as cricket legs and make
about as much power.
“The sun is going to set soon. The longer this takes, the more likely
you’ll be in there until tomorrow. If I wake up and the dream ends,
you’ll never see the world outside.”
I remain unconvinced that this is his dream, or even a dream at all,
but I try harder to relieve my frozen joints and revive my moribund
muscles.
“You can do it,” he says. “The journey of a thousand miles begins
with one step.”
I’ve heard that one before, and it makes me smile inside. I lift my
head.
“There you go. That’s the way.”
Assessing the incline, I come up on columnar legs, feel briefly as
magnificent and strong as any conquering hero, and then suddenly
wobble and collapse, plunging my beak into the dirt once more. Athens
gently wipes my face and helps me up. Again and again I rise and again
and again I fall, until at last, as a result of a series of modest steps, I crest
the edge of the grave and am rewarded with the murk of twilight.
“Too dark to climb down the mountain,” says Athens, stretching out be-
side me in the dirty grass. “Now we get to see what happens when I
dream about being asleep.”
“Too dark to climb down the mountain,” says Athens, stretching
out beside me in the dirty grass. “Now we get to see what happens when
I dream about being asleep.”
Chapter 10
Wang Yi had gotten into the habit of talking to the turtle as if she could
understand him. “Feel the anger and smell the wine,” he told her as they
entered the city’s southern gate. “I don’t know how it is with turtles, but
having children is the most important thing for any man. Since the King
still has no heir, the people don’t respect him and local strongmen
scheme to make the dynasty their own. My master is the only one keep-
ing things as they are.”
A horse-drawn chariot bearing a fresh, legless corpse, a warning to
would-be thieves, rolled past as the pair headed to a market in the east-
ern corner of the city. There, Wang Yi purchased a robe decorated with
crocodile dragons, then soaked in a sandalwood tub at the town baths.
Only when he was clean did he seek entrance to the palace.
“One can never gain access the same way twice,” he told the turtle.
“Guards close and open gates at random to keep invaders and assassins
guessing. Inside, there are hallways leading nowhere, doors with bricks
behind them, and large, important rooms with tiny entrances. The whole
place is about secrets and tricks.”
When at last he found an open gate, he identified himself to a palace
guard and was escorted through breezeways and told to wait, surround-
ed by black swans in a pavilion built over a pond. He had no sooner sat
down than a muster of peacocks burst into view, followed by maids-in-
waiting and the queen’s swaggering guards. A former princess, Qin
Jiang was neither willowy nor voluptuous, neither elegant nor sensual,
neither merely graceful nor athletic, but a blend of all those qualities, a
whole much more than her parts. Wang Yi dropped into a kowtow, and
she caught sight of him.
“Ah. The apprentice returns. Cheng Fu’s smoke signals say he sent
you with a turtle for Long Ears. I confess I’m surprised. I was expecting a
mountain or a dream. May I see it?”
Wang Yi produced the animal slowly so as not to alarm the guards.
“You sailed across the world for that?” the queen laughed.
“She’s very special, Your Highness.”
“I would hope so.”
“She grows very large and will live a long time.”
“Then we’ll have years to enjoy her company. Take her to Long Ears
now. I just passed him meditating under his favorite maple, which re-
tains its color while all the other trees have turned.”
Wang Yi obeyed with a mixture of excitement and fear. At the sight
of his apprentice, the court wizard struck a bronze, chevron-shaped bell
that hung from a clasp on his robe.
“Welcome back, dear boy,” he said after the piercing tone subsided.
“Are you well?”
“It was a long trip, Master.”
“I see you are thin. We’ll get some palace cooking into you.”
“Thank you, Master.”
“Shellfish and cow meat, but not too much. And fruit for what is left
of your mouth sores. Your new beard shows that sailing with Cheng Fu
was a growing experience.”
Wang Yi worked his mouth for a moment, trying to decide what to
say to his teacher. Only when prompted by a small smile of understand-
ing encouragement did he venture to speak.
“Not everyone sees the world as we do, Master.”
“Indeed they do not. Tell me more of what you mean.”
“I seek to build bridges to all the forces of nature, to ensconce my-
self ever more deeply in the flow of the Tao,” Wang Yi said carefully.
“And?”
“And to avail myself of the motivation found in all the bumps and
bruises I receive, to learn from my mistakes, to absorb the energy of oth-
ers, including their hatred and scorn, and use it as fuel for my own eleva-
tion. Others remain tied only to material manifestations, to low thinking
and base appetites.”
“The world of men,” Long Ears muttered. “What else have you
learned, my boy?”
“That despite the fact that your body remained here at the palace,
you were always with me, present in every wave and, especially, in eve-
ry cloud.”
“That says as much about you as it does about me.”
“That I deserve your watchfulness?”
“You do,” Long Ears smiled. “But surely you have learned more of
yourself than just your just desserts.”
“I’ve learned that I am the same far away as I am at home.”
“Wherever we go, there we are,” the sage nodded. “A wonderful
lesson indeed.”
“I also discovered that there are many different kinds of treasure.”
The sage smiled. “Let me see her now.”
Wang Yi pulled the tortoise from his robe and set her on the ground.
Being a tortoise, she did not think, as many in the kingdom did, that the
man before her must hang rocks from his ears to give him such lobes,
nor that he looked too young to be wise. She did not find anything pre-
ternaturally wild in the thick, shining luxury of his black beard, nor did
she judge his cloak to be too plain for a man everyone feared. At that
first moment, she merely noticed that he smelled like the forest.
“Cheng Fu slaughtered her family, and she bit him on the nose.
Then she stopped eating for many days. There is stubbornness in her and
a sense of justice too.”
“There is the night sky in her eyes,” Long Ears murmured, bending
low for a look.
“She has ling xing,” Wang Yi said, referring to the tortoise’s deeply
spiritual nature.
“You are well to see that.”
“She’s only a baby, but she will be half as wide as a water buffalo
some day.”
“Good. That means she is as she appeared in my vision.”
“You saw her.”
“I did.”
“And sent me across the world to retrieve her?”
“Yes.”
“May I ask why?”
Long Ears considered his answer for a time. “You know that I have
seen and done much with beasts of Earth and sky.”
“Yes, Master.”
“You know, for example, that I have heard the cries of leaves as
they fell.”
“Yes.”
“And watched the joyous dance of snowflakes, the tearful happi-
ness of a mother squirrel delivering her young, the sneaky triumph of
the hunting mantis at prey, and the intricate intertwining of mating
cranes?”
“So you have told me.”
The wizard nodded. “Too, I have revealed to wolves locked in com-
bat that they were father and son, and heightened the skills of a catfish
so he could safely find his way from a shrinking pond.”
“I was with you at those times, Master.”
“And, yet, for all that I have seen and done, I have never come
across yin as pure and strong as I sense in this tortoise.”
“Pure yin,” Wang Yi repeated.
“That is why I sent you to retrieve her. Every crag and crevice in
and on the earth, every rivulet and eddy and stream, every breath of
breeze, and every living being from a worm to a flower, a camel to a cod,
is a contrivance of naturally balanced, opposing energies and matter.
There is nothing that is purely one thing or the other in the world any-
more, or, at least, there are very few such examples. Such objects, and,
even more, such beings are powerful because of the effects and possibili-
ties inherent in such unalloyed and concentrated energy. She is truly the
treasure I sought, and more.”
“What will you do with her?”
“Can you guess?”
Wang Yi had thought about the question for months. He had an
idea, but he dared not speak it. Looking embarrassed, he shook his head.
“Go ahead,” Long Ears urged.
“Might you be planning a feat of magic only our ancestor, the great
Shaman Yu, has attempted?”
“I might,” the wizard smiled.
“Really, great lord? You are going to attempt Dian Hua?”
The sage nodded. “Total transformation. As the purest yin energy
to be found on land or sea, she was born to be a woman.”
Dantian Cultivation
and the
Hard Problem of Consciousness
RON CATABIA
Consciousness is one of the least understood phenomena of human ex-

istence. In the 21st century, psychology, philosophy, neuroscience, biolo-
gy, and physics are trying to unravel its mysteries. In the discussion of
consciousness, a distinction can be made between states of consciousness
and the nature of consciousness. “States of consciousness are qualitative-
ly different patterns of subjective experience” about both internal and
external events (Kowalski and Westen 2005, 294). States of consciousness
include, a) Freud’s conscious, preconscious, and unconscious; b) Jung’s
collective unconscious; c) conscious and unconscious cognitive processes;
d) sleeping and dreaming; e) altered states of consciousness such as med-
itation and hypnosis; and f) drug-induced states of consciousness.
The nature of consciousness is about how it arises and what it is in-
itself, i. e., its ontology. Most current descriptions do not reach to its
foundation. For example, two Western psychology definitions of con-
sciousness are, “the subjective awareness of mental events” (2005, 294),
and “our moment-to-moment awareness of ourselves and the environ-
ment” (Passer and Smith 2004, 159). There are other, similar definitions
of consciousness that describe its process but not its ontology. The onto-
logical questions eventually come down to whether there is a physical or
non-physical basis to consciousness and whether or not it exists as a
fundamental property of the universe (Shannon 2008). This paper at-
tempts to show that Daoist dantian or elixir field cultivation, as practiced
in internal alchemy, leads to an experience of cosmic oneness which
177
sheds light on the ontology of consciousness and removes some of the

obstacles to the current understanding of it.
Consciousness Past
Consciousness has always been critical to human existence. Throughout
history it was utilized and experienced in various ways. It alerted prehis-
toric people when danger was near. Ancient shamans used altered states
to enter nonphysical realms and gain important information that lead to
healing and balance. The Hindu Upanishads describe the expansion of
consciousness as the way for humans to unite with the cosmos, i. e., At-
man connecting to Brahman (Prabhavananda and Manchester 1948).
In Greek philosophy, Plato believed that true reality consisted of
eternal forms or ideas that were beyond the physical world. In his Allego-
ry of the Cave, Plato thinks humans should focus their consciousness on
the highest truth (symbolized by the sun) instead of letting conscious-
ness remain in the darkness of the cave (symbolized by shadows). Plato,
and other philosophers after him, examined states of consciousness ra-
ther than what it is in-itself.
A significant development in the ontology of consciousness was
Rene Descartes’ statement “I think, therefore I am” (cogito ergo sum). This
made mind or consciousness a fundamental factor of human existence,
dividing the world into two basic factors, physical external objects and
mental internal processes. Descartes’s dualism of mind and body became
firmly established in Western philosophy and science. While impeding
developments in medicine and psychology, dualism nevertheless estab-
lished consciousness as a central factor of the human condition.
A strong interest in consciousness occurred in the late 19th century,
when Wilhelm Wundt and E. B. Titchener began conducting studies on
the nature of consciousness. Consciousness then came to play an im-
portant role in the psychological theories of William James and Edmund
Husserl. Sigmund Freud and Carl Jung put it at the center of psychody-
namics. Behaviorism ignored consciousness, but it came to the forefront
again with the development of cognitive, humanistic, and transpersonal
psychologies during the 1960s and 70s.
Since the late 1980s, the ontology of consciousness has received a lot
of attention. Several theories have been put forth and two main obstacles
Catabia, “Dantian Cultivation” / 179
have been encountered. David Chalmers labeled the two obstacles the
“easy problems” and the “hard problem” of consciousness (2006; 2002).
The first involves features such as discriminating sensory stimuli,
how the brain integrates information from many different sources, and
verbalizing internal states of mind. These processes are closely associat-
ed with consciousness and are the objective mechanisms of the cognitive
system. Neuroscience is solving many of these problems by observing
brain activity and discovering the neural correlates of various behaviors.
Easy problems are about objective phenomena which can be observed, so
it seems to be only a matter of time until cognitive science and neurosci-
ence solve them.
The “hard problem of consciousness” is the question of how physi-
cal processes in the brain give rise to subjective experiences. For example,
the visualization of deep blue, the sound of violin music, or the memory
of a walk through the forest on a sunny day are inner subjective experi-
ences, related to external, objective reality. Subjective experiences are
called qualia. A quale is the intrinsic property of an experience itself
which is separate from the physical world. Many Western scientists, phi-
losophers, and psychologists maintain a distinct separation between the
physical and non-physical. They assume consciousness originates in the
brain and attempt to discover how the firing of brain neurons gives rise
to qualia.
Major Paradigms
Western thinkers have used three basic paradigms in their attempt to
solve the hard problem. The first is material monism or physical reduc-
tionism. This approach understands fundamental reality to be entirely
physical. The second, dualism, assumes there are two fundamentally
different kinds of reality, physical and non-physical. It attempts to ex-
plain the nature of consciousness by looking for interactions between the
material and non-material. The third paradigm, the mental/spiritual,
states that there is a higher, mental, trans-physical reality where con-
sciousness originates (Klimo 2016; Baars 2006). It extends concepts be-
yond the boundaries of reductionism and dualism.
Proposed solutions regarding the nature of consciousness which
originate in the monistic physical reductionist paradigm are mainly put
forth by traditional Western scientists. Francis Crick, who collaborated

with James Watson to discover the double helix structure of DNA (they
jointly won the Nobel Prize in 1962), strongly believed that conscious-
ness was based in the physicality of firing brain neurons. Crick and his
associate, Christof Koch, stated that, “We believe at the moment the best
approach to the problem of explaining consciousness is to concentrate on
finding what is known as the neural correlates of consciousness—the
processes in the brain that are most directly responsible for conscious-
ness. By locating the neurons in the cerebral cortex that correlate best
with consciousness, and figuring out how they link to neurons elsewhere
in the brain, we may come across key insights into what David J.
Chalmers calls the hard problem: a full accounting of the manner in
which subjective experience arises from these cerebral processes” (Crick
2006; Crick and Koch 2002). It is theorized that neurons in the brain stem,
thalamus, and cerebral cortex are the principle areas responsible for con-
sciousness (Damasio 2010, 243; Edelman and Tononi 2000, 40).
Another physical reductionist theory has been put forth by Stuart
Hameroff and Roger Penrose. Their theory focuses on microtubules
which are protein scaffolding structures within brain neurons. During
his study of microtubules, Hameroff noticed that microtubules seem to
have computational abilities that process information. He hypothesized
it was reasonable that consciousness could arise in the microtubules
(2006). Hameroff and Penrose emphasize that consciousness arises from
processes within neurons instead of connections between neurons. They
call their theory Orch OR which stands for Orchestrated Objective Re-
duction of the Quantum State. But they also think it possible that con-
sciousness might also be a fundamental property of the universe to
which microtubules are connected (2015). They are open to the idea that
consciousness may potentially exist both inside and outside of the brain.
Max Velmans also has a physical reductionist theory of conscious-
ness. Velmans, like Hameroff and Penrose, thinks that consciousness
could possibly exist outside the brain. He hypothesizes that, although
the brain is necessary to the conscious process, the actual experience of
consciousness goes beyond the brain (2006). He says that the conscious
subjective experience incorporates the three-dimensional world around
us. Brain processes, Velmans notes, interact with real energies in the ob-
jective world to produce subjective experience. The interaction between
the brain and objective physical energy implies “There might be a fun-
damental relationship between consciousness and matter” (2006, 238).
He adds that the relationship between the brain and physical objects
may be similar to how waves transform into particles in quantum me-
chanics (2006, 240)
Studying the nature of consciousness requires an expansion of
thinking beyond scientific reductionism. Traditional Western scientists
and philosophers are beginning to realize that, in order to discover what
consciousness is in-itself, they will have to move past the physical reduc-
tionist boundaries imposed by classical science. Hameroff, Penrose, and
Velmans, all prominent scientists and thinkers, acknowledge that con-
sciousness may exist both inside and outside the human brain and body.
Dualist theories of consciousness see the physical and non-physical
as being equally important in the nature of consciousness. “Contempo-
rary dualists are generally property dualists; they say that some of our
brain states have nonphysical properties, and they posit such properties
to explain consciousness” (Prinz 2012, 8).
Dualists recognize there is a non-physical aspect of consciousness,
but have difficulty describing how the physical (brain) and non-physical
(qualia) interact. It has been suggested that meditative methods could be
used to understand mind-body interactions. “I think one task may be to
go with introspective attention, into the real, deep structure of conscious
experience without making theories, without naming things, without
relating them to anything in the past, and to see whether there is any-
thing like selfhood as such there” (Metzinger 2006).
Henry Stapp, renowned physicist at the University of California,
has a complex theory of how consciousness and the brain interact, based
in quantum mechanics. He thinks that consciousness may be fundamen-
tal to the universe. Although a dualist, he views consciousness as a pow-
erful force which controls neural excitation in the brain. Conscious expe-
rience is a psychical event, and if a psychical event is an experience relat-
ed to the physical world, consciousness directs the brain to update its
representation of the physical thing. Subjective experience results from
the interaction of consciousness and neural brain activity, but conscious-
ness controls the experience. Stapp’s intricate theory describes how con-
sciousness interacts with the brain, but does not fully deal with the on-
tology of consciousness, except to say it is a powerful force fundamental
to the cosmos (2015, 36). His view seems to be that when we understand
quantum mechanics, then we will understand how objective reality and
consciousness are related to each other.
New Perspectives
When Descartes established a separation between mind and matter, it
paved the way for science to focus exclusively on external, objective real-
ity. “Over time, it became an unstated assumption of physics that “no hu-
man qualities of consciousness, intention, emotion, mind, or spirit can
significantly influence a well-designed target experiment in physical re-
ality”” (Tiller 2008). However, the separation between mind and matter
became blurred with the development of quantum physics during the
early 20th century. When physicists explored the world of tiny particles,
they discovered properties that contradicted the laws of classical physics
and questioned the validity of physical reductionism. Two significant
quantum discoveries that questioned classical scientific logic were wave-
particle duality as well as entanglement or nonlocality.
Wave-particle duality refers to a phenomenon where a wave trans-
forms into a particle. In classical physics, a wave of radiation and a parti-
cle are distinct and separate from each other. In quantum mechanics,
when an attempt is made to measure the location of a wave, it collapses
into a particle. No one understands why this happens. Some physicists
think that consciousness, i. e., a conscious observer doing the measure-
ment, causes the collapse (Rosenblum and Kuttner 2011, 54, 129). Other
physicists, however, point out there is some evidence which shows that
an inanimate measuring instrument can cause the collapse (Nauenberg
2015). Whatever the cause, the idea of distinct things transforming into
one another defies the logic of classical physics. It shows that an object is
not separate from an observer or a measuring instrument. That separate
things can have some kind of connection indicates something happening
which is not yet understood. It raises the question of whether there is
truth beyond physical reality and, if so, whether it is non-physical?
Entanglement or non-locality refers to a phenomenon in quantum
mechanics where two particles, previously in contact with each other,
but now a great distance apart, can instantaneously interact (Radin 1997,
315). When something changes in one particle, there is an instantaneous
corresponding change in the other. There is no physical force connecting

the two particles. This behavior has been verified through experiments
(Rosenblum and Kuttner 2011, 171). Entanglement suggests there is a
universal connectedness that science does not understand (2011, 189).
Quantum mechanics seems to support indivisibility, which raises ques-
tions about dualism. Entanglement also suggests that consciousness is
involved because interacting objects separated by a great distance can
have an instant awareness of each other. “Well, we often describe intui-
tion, or our innate capacity for knowing, as our sixth sense. But we now
understand that this kind of knowing is rooted in the quantum world, at
a level even beyond atoms” (Mitchell 2010).
Quantum mechanics poses serious questions to both physical reduc-
tionism and dualism because wave-particle duality and entanglement
imply a non-separability between things that have been classically de-
scribed as separate and distinct. Quantum mechanics is moving in the
direction of viewing the universe as an interconnected whole.
Mental/spiritual paradigms assume that non-physical reality is the
basis of the physical, and/or that consciousness and matter are two com-
plementary aspects of one reality. Philosophers who have this perspec-
tive often relate it to Eastern philosophy and meditation systems. Con-
sciousness is viewed as a fundamental property of the universe which is
both inside (subjective) and outside (objective) of human beings.
The mental/spiritual paradigm holds that consciousness is universal
and transcends the physical (Bache 2010, 224). Human beings are seen as
the cosmos in human form and human consciousness is an inflection of
the universe’s consciousness (Tarnas 2010, 264). The brain only gives
shape to preexisting consciousness (Russell 2010, 243).
It also understands consciousness as closely related to cosmic unity.
Edgar Mitchell reflects, “And suddenly it settled in, a visceral moment of
knowing that the molecules in my body, the molecules in the spacecraft,
and the molecules in my partners had been prototyped and manufac-
tured in an ancient generation of stars. It was not an intellectual realiza-
tion, but a deep knowing that was accompanied by a feeling of ecstasy
and oneness that I had never experienced in that way before” (2010, 234).
The idea that consciousness and mind are fundamental to the uni-
verse and the basis of physical reality is difficult for science to accept be-
cause spiritual theories are founded in subjectivity. Science raises the
question of “how can we know that subjective experience is authentic?”

On the other hand, the reductionist, dualist, and mental/spiritualist per-
spectives also have problems because they are unable to get to the bot-
tom of what consciousness is in-itself. They know that consciousness ex-
ists because we all have it. But they are unable to determine its source
because reductionists limit themselves to the physical world, dualists
cannot find a bridge between the physical and mental, and men-
tal/spiritualists trap themselves in subjectivity.
This paper will attempt to show that Daoist philosophy and dantian
cultivation, which embrace the non-physical as primary, go beyond the
subjective and objective viewpoints to give a deeper picture of the ontol-
ogy of consciousness. Dantian cultivation also provides insights that
eliminate the hard problem of consciousness.
Dao, Qi, and Dantian Cultivation

Daoism is a philosophy and practice of oneness. “Awakening to Dao and
attaining oneness with it are key goals of all Daoists; they form the ulti-
mate purpose of Daoist cultivation” (Lu 2009, 77). Dao is eternal, name-
less, and the source of all things. In Daoist cosmology, there was nonbe-
ing before there was existence. ” The numinous opening, mainspring of
immortality” is where “there is something like a movement.” In the ex-
pression “lies in what has nothing prior to itself,” “nothing” means that
there is not yet matter; as it “lies in what has nothing prior to itself,” it is
devoid of form and matter,” yet contains it in latency (Wang 2011, 48).
From the Daoist perspective, all things we know through consciousness
originated in nonbeing.
Qi, the essential energy of the cosmos, has a unifying property that
underlies all aspects of existence. “We can say that everything in the
universe, organic and inorganic, is composed of and defined by its qi. . . .
Chinese thought does not distinguish between matter and energy, but
we can perhaps think of qi as matter on the verge of becoming energy, or
energy at the point of materializing” (Kaptchuk 1983, 35). Condensed
and less condensed forms of qi exist as a continuum between matter and
non-matter. “Most sinologists generally agree that qi corresponds to
“matter,” although not matter in a restrictive materialistic sense, as qi can
also assume very rarified, dispersed, non-material forms” (Macciocia

1989, 36).
“The mind, in Chinese medical thought, is not different from the
body, but flows through it as a subtler form of energy together with the
energy and the blood” (Kohn 1993, 163). “The Chinese generally do not
radically distinguish between body and mind, seeing them both essen-
tially as qi, with the caveat that the mind vibrates at a subtler and faster
level” (Kohn 2011, 6). The significance of the vibrational rate of energy
was hypothesized in quantum mechanics by Erwin Schrodinger when he
stated that “quantum transition is an energy change from one vibrational
mode to another” (Rosenblum and Kuttner 2011, 76-77). I accordingly
postulate that there is a continuum of qi from body to mind to spirit to
Dao and this continuum, vibrating at different rates, is the foundation of
unity. Further, non-material, refined qi is the basis of condensed, less
refined, material qi.
Dantian cultivation serves to connect and unite with Dao. The culti-
vation process first involves transforming essence to qi and qi to spirit,
from where it extends into the cosmos to unite with Dao. Subtle methods
of breathing, postures, movements, energy circulations and meditations
are used to refine qi and accomplish internal transformation. There are
different methods, but they all work with qi in ways that begin with the
physical body and progress to the mental and spiritual aspects of exist-
ence. “This equal weighting of spirit and matter within an alchemical
continuum of transmutation distinguishes internal alchemy from purely
transcendent approaches seeking the absolute” (Winn 2009, 188).
Consciousness as Qi-Continuum
The primary purpose of dantian cultivation is to unite with Dao, but it
can also be viewed as a way of understanding the relationship between
the material and non-material. Science attempts to explain consciousness
by focusing on how firing brain neurons produce non-material qualia.
From the Daoist perspective, the underlying unity of the qi-continuum
gives a deeper understanding of how the material and non-material are
related.
During the practice of refining qi in the various dantian centers, and
because of the close connections between essence, qi, and spirit, the adept
becomes aware of a continuum between the physical, mental, and spir-

itual. The meditative experience of this continuum leads to an experience
of the unity of all things, and eventually, cosmic oneness.
As one keeps advancing, concepts of physical and non-physical lose
their meaning. There is only a direct experience of being. “It is experi-
enced as a nondual, numinous awareness “that precedes words” and lies
deep within the “mind within the mind”” (Roth 1999, 117). This writer
hypothesizes that nondual, numinous awareness is the foundation of
consciousness and supports a qi-continuum that underlies all things.
Not distinguishing between the objective and subjective takes place
when normal consciousness is lost. The practitioner experiences com-
plete absorption into the foundation of life. “Completely free from dual-
istic thinking or bodily self-consciousness, it represents a state of no-
mind where there are no boundaries between things and where the per-
son as person has “lost himself”” (Kohn 2009, 11). “Introvertive mystical
experience looks inward and is exclusively an experience of unity, that is,
an experience of the unitive or what some scholars call “pure” or object-
less consciousness” (Roth 1999, 128).
To me this means that the source of consciousness, as well as con-
sciousness in itself, is the nondual, numinous awareness that precedes
words. It also means that consciousness is fundamental to the cosmos, so
that nondual, numinous awareness supports a qi-continuum that serves
as the root of all things. Consciousness is the unified qi-continuum that is
neither subjective nor objective, a potency that connects the physical and
non-physical through the transformations that take place during dantian
cultivation.
Thus, consciousness and oneness are the same, inseparable, a fun-
damental truth of the universe, rooted in Dao. Also, consciousness as a
fundamental aspect of the cosmos, exists both inside and outside the
body. As a qi-continuum, finally, it vibrates and interacts with the vibra-
tional frequencies of all things, material and non-material.
All things in the cosmos form from the non-material (Wang 2011,
48). A tree, for example, is a form of condensed qi that, through the qi-
continuum, has a non-material qi configuration at its core. When a per-
son looks at a tree, fundamental consciousness as qi-continuum simulta-
neously interacts or vibrates with the physical tree, the human eye or
visual cortex, the qi core of the tree, and the non-material human mind.
The qi-configuration at the tree’s core creates a mental image in the mind.
It is a single, whole experience that results from the qi-continuum of con-
sciousness. Brain neurons firing in the visual cortex and a non-material
quale appearing in the mind are not separate things. There is no hard
problem of consciousness. I believe this process is a form of quantum
entanglement.
The entangled process of fundamental consciousness, based in cos-
mic unity, connects the material and non-material through the qi-
continuum. It is the cosmic perspective. Science, on the other hand, takes
the human perspective and looks for a logical, objective explanation to
understand the nature of consciousness, which leads to the hard problem
of consciousness. The qi-continuum of fundamental consciousness elimi-
nates the hard problem.
Discussion
Consciousness is cosmic oneness. It cannot be separated into objective
and subjective, physical and non-physical, material and non-material.
Consciousness reflects the unity of the cosmos. It is a oneness of being
only true being and can be experienced through dantian cultivation.
Western science does not trust first-person experience to be able to
know and understand reality. It is true, as science points out, that people
are often inaccurate when they report their own subjective experiences.
From the human perspective, third-person observation seems to be more
reliable.
However, Western science is slowly begining to accept the notion
that observation of external objects still requires a subjective observer.
Thus, so-called third-person objectivity has a subjective component. A
study in physics or biology still has a person reporting it, so there is a
first-person component (Varela 2006, 224). Subjective experiences can be
accurate. For example, Buddhist meditation methods, which train atten-
tion to be calm and lucid, provide accurate reporting of first-person ex-
perience (Wallace 2007, 59).
Quantum mechanics will eventually cause science to make some
changes in methodology. When consciousness, wave-particle duality,
and non-locality became significant factors in quantum mechanics, the
validity of reductionism and dualism was questioned. “To understand
the connections in the universe it is essential to create a new level of in-

tegration of the natural sciences and mysticism while avoiding the per-
ception of these two as opposites” (Bock-Mobius 2012, 33). “The diligent
separation of subject and object, long practiced in the natural sciences, is
now making way for a closely interconnected reality” (2012, 85). While
change is slow, some scientists are understanding that conscious experi-
ence goes beyond intellectual knowing. They realize that something be-
yond normal physics or psychology is needed in order to understand
consciousness (Rosenblum and Kuttner 2011, 233-234). More than any-
thing else in science, quantum entanglement and wave-particle duality
imply that the universe is a state of oneness without separations.
In addition to solving the hard problem of conscious, Daoism and
its methods of qi-cultivation can help solve many problems we currently
face in the world. Working simultaneously with body and mind culti-
vates oneness and unites human beings. Uniting human beings from dif-
ferent, and even conflicting, cultures can reduce problems such as ine-
quality, violence, crime, and drug abuse while increasing mental health,
educational motivation, positive attitudes, and peace. There is an im-
portant place for Daoism in our world. It’s there, we just have to use it.
Consciousness as qi-continuum is a mysterious process beyond in-
tellectual realizations. Logic or reason cannot explain why it is incom-
prehensible, manifesting in experiences of being only true being without a
first-person I or a third-person observer.
In the Zhuangzi, Big Concealment says to Cloud Chief, “Well, then –
mind nourishment! You have only to rest in inaction and things will
transform themselves. Smash your form and body, spit out hearing and
eyesight, forget you are a thing among other things, and you may join in
great unity with the deep and boundless. Undo the mind, slough off the
spirit, be blank and soulless, and the ten thousand things one by one will
return to the root – return to the root and not know why” (Watson 1968,
122). “Not knowing why” is how to solve the hard problem of con-
sciousness.
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Translated by Fabrizio Pregadio. Mountain View, CA: Golden Elixir Press.
Watson, Burton. 1968. The Complete Works of Chuang Tzu. Translated by Burton
Watson. New York: Columbia University Press.
Winn, Michael. 2009. “Daoist Internal Alchemy in the West.” In Internal Alchemy:
Self, Society, and the Quest for Immortality, edited by Livia Kohn and Robin R.
Wang, 179-202. Magdalena, NM: Three Pines Press.
A Romanian Spiritual Seeker’s Growth
From SciFi Readings to Neidan
ŞERBAN TOADER
This presents a short biography of a Romanian spiritual seeker, covering

his first discovery of the necessity to engage in a spiritual search to the
present. The seeker, whom we will call P., first became interested in self-
discovery, i. e., in his place and role in the greater scheme of things on
this earth, during high school, the trigger being Frank Herbert’s science
fiction novel Dune. Later he engaged in yoga practice and eventually
came to focus on two forms of Chinese qi practices: internal alchemy
(neidan) and the techniques associated with the Yijin jing.
My information derives from a series of semi-directed interviews
with P., including also one with his wife C., similarly a qigong practi-
tioner, between 2012 and 2014, a total of about seven hours. In addition, I
gathered materials when I joined him during three trips to China in 2009,
2013, and 2015, serving as a translator for groups P. had organized.
The Trigger
P. started his relationship with Chinese qigong around 1997. By then, he
had been a yoga practitioner for nine years, a course initially inspired by
reading Frank Herbert’s novel Dune, a classic of science fiction that
abounds in mystical elements. Since 1997, P. has traveled to China nu-
merous times to pursue qigong, but his interest in yoga never led him to
visit India.
193
Born in 1977, P. was about 16 years old when he read Dune and
came to realize the importance of spiritual initiation and personal trans-
formation. In the book, the main character, a youth named Paul, under-
goes some physical and mental training, including also the taking of a
certain substance called ’’the spice.” He passes an initiation that opens
him to a new reality, one that he had never encountered before.
Reading this, P. realized less the necessity of spiritual training than
the understanding that human beings typically only use a tiny part of
their brain potential. He resolved to pursue the expansion or even full
attainment of this potential. Following this, P. began to search for prac-
tices that might resemble the training procedures in Dune. He explains,
Then I started to search for any kind of training that looked like the one in
Dune. The book contained training procedures that looked very much like
those used in yoga.
However, they also included ’’the spice,” maybe matching the pill in ex-
ternal alchemy or possibly resources utilized in internal alchemy, as P.
later came to speculate.
Even before reading Dune and becoming aware of organized train-
ing methods, P. experienced a certain predisposition toward contempla-
tion. His home faced the majestic Făgăraş mountains in Transylvania,
and he liked to just sit and contemplate, often finding himself feeling as
if spiritually being carried away. There were no innate, special abilities
or extraordinary states. On the contrary, his health was not at its best. As
P. describes it,
I had a problem with my physical body. I was not born healthy, but early,
at only eight months. The ventricles in my heart were perforated, oxygen-
ated blood mixing with unoxygenated blood. I used to get tired very
quickly and I suffered form an aggressive anemia for two years. Therefore,
my body constantly forced me to maintain conscious and careful aware-
ness. It would not let me ignore it. This, I believe, is a key factor for my
later seeking.
Last but not least, P. also mentions that, living in an officially atheis-
tic society that did not permit religion to be taught in school, he did not
receive any systematic religious education. His parents were not pious
Toader, “A Romanian Spiritual Seeker” / 195
people or church-goers. Only his maternal grandmother provided some

religious connection. When P. was four to six years old, before he started
primary school, she would read the Bible in its Orthodox Christian ver-
sion to him and his siblings instead of bedtime stories. Still, even as a
child, P. notes, ’’I do not think I believed in God, nor did I ever think
about whether God existed or not. God was an abstract figure, so to
speak.”
Even after starting to read science fiction, P. did not make any con-
nection to the religious tales of his grandmother. Rather, he came to be-
lieve in the existence of a certain God during his yoga phase.
I practiced yoga, taiji, qigong, a little bit of Zen Buddhism, a little bit of
martial arts, maybe a little bit of astrology. All these things, in essence,
will eventually make you believe there is something beyond matter, be-
yond the material plane. Yes, I think, this is most interesting, coming to
me during adolescence: that there is something beyond matter, above the
material level of life.
Another major factor was his physical condition. He started to prac-

tice yoga also in order to enhance his health and improve his flexibility,
becoming a vegetarian and avoiding all tobacco, alcohol, and caffeine in
the process.
Soon after reading Dune, P. started to read works on yoga, most im-
portantly Paul Brunton’s The Hidden Teaching beyond Yoga (New York,
1959), which reinforced his interest in another level of reality, one be-
yond that seen with the physical eyes. But, as P. stresses, ’’it was clear for
me that such a thing exists, and that it was only a matter of training to
attain it.” Nevertheless, it was not merely an intellectual insight, but ra-
ther a feeling of familiarity with spiritual training, as if he already be-
longed there ’’since the beginning of the world.” This intuition meant a
great degree of certainty for P., who considers himself rather a skeptic. A
new realm to be explored opened before him despite all sorts of doubts
and opposing arguments from his rational mind.
P. reread Dune after he came to experience yoga and felt that what
he had lived up to that point was ’’in tune” with the episode in the book
when ’’the worm and the human become one.” But, he adds, that soon
after he stopped reading science fiction, instead turning to works on per-
sonal development, leadership, direct marketing, Daoist practice, and

New Age spirituality.
Yoga
After first starting yoga privately in his hometown of Cisnădie in 1993, P.
moved to Sibiu the next year and to Bucharest in 1995. There he joined a
school called Movement of Spiritual Integration into the Absolute (MISA)
for a total of nine years (until 2003). Founded by Gregorian Bivolaru, the
school was rather cult-like and, in addition to basic yoga, also promoted
astrology, free love, and seminal retention. Running counter to Romani-
an law, society and politics, the founder eventually faced arrest and trial.
However, P.’s main objection to him had less to do with the more
tabloid aspects of his biography, but with the fact that Bivolaru did not
represent any specific tradition and was not part of a clear spiritual line-
age. Instead, he was a self-made guru who creatively and intuitively
combined teachings and practices from various schools and relayed
them in new and eclectic ways to his students. Still, he offered an excel-
lent setting for self-development in his ashrams and camps, helping P.
acquire basic Hatha Yoga notions and practices: postures, relaxation,
breathing techniques, seated meditations, as well as a relevant vocabu-
lary.
From here, he moved on to internal alchemy, however, the passage
was neither direct nor smooth. As P. explains,
First of all, it was not a direct passage. Instead, there was a hiatus of one
year, because I was quite full of everything that involved so-called spiritu-
al readings, a fixed routine or schedule, a specific diet, a certain lifestyle,
and so on. Besides, it had become pretty obvious over the last two years
that I did not belong with the school any longer. I merely kept going out
of inertia.
Eventually P. decided to leave the yoga school, going against the

possessiveness clearly expressed by the charismatic leader. As he
adds, ’’They were doing and talking about all sorts of things, anything
else but yoga, once people had been with them for six or more years.” In
fact, P. was seeking development and continuity in his training, pursu-
ing ’’an authentic spiritual practice with a set of exercises able to produce
measurable, objective results in one way or another, either internal or
external. I could not find them there.”
He was willing to learn and try new things, to expand his
knowledge of practice, and compare what he had learned with other,
different systems. Thus, after a hiatus of about eight months, he began to
attend qigong classes in Bucharest and started to read related books, ac-
quiring a new set of ideas, including the concepts of meridians, acupunc-
ture points, and qi. To him, as he explains, ’’the system seemed much
better structured.”
There where certain clear points, on certain clear lines. Acupuncture and
the entire system of energy lines, organs, and meridians are recognized by
the World Health Organization. Also, it was linked with homeopathy and
looked very interesting to me. So, I said to myself, let’s just see what this qi
is all about.
As it turned out, his interest in qi was all he got at the moment, since
the qigong classes did not offer very much. Rather, he discovered the
same shortcomings he had already fled from: cultic tendencies, sectarian-
ism, manipulation, business-oriented motivations, competition in a spir-
itual market, monopolist tendencies, and more. Being thoroughly disap-
pointed, he decided, “I’m done with Romania, I’m heading east!"
Early Qigong
Making good on this resolution, P. over the next few years encountered
four significant masters: Master Luo in Bangkok, the Magus of Java in
Indonesia whose European disciple named D. also taught in Romania,
the Shaolin master Jiang, and the Longmen Daoist Wang Liping in China.
He first went east in 2004 to attend a one-month retreat with Master
Luo in Bangkok. The group consisted of thirty participants, including
five from Romania. The training lasted about three hours each day, de-
scribed by P. as rather ’’painful yet mostly inefficient.” Nevertheless, Luo
was the teacher from whom P. learned of the methods of externalizing qi
(faqi 發氣) and through whom he had his first enlightenment experience,
making Luo his initiating master (qimeng laoshi 启蒙老师). P. continued
the practice in several more retreats, then moved on, describing his
teaching as a form of Daoist-Buddhist fusion, his logo showing the Taiji
symbol combined with a Budhist svastika.
From D., who happened to participate in one of these retreats in
Bangkok, P. next learned about his master, the Magus of Java. D. called
him several times, hoping for permission to visit, which was granted.
The group went for a short audience, during which the Magus external-
ized qi toward them and demonstrated an acupuncture treatment using
only qi, activating points not found in standard medical manuals. When
asked to provide a chart of these points, the Magus refused, explaining
that ’’they should remain inside my mind, because my qi and my faqi are
compatible with them.”
Besides externalizing qi through his palms, he also showed them a
method that worked through the lower abdomen, manifest in a feeling of
an electric current through the elixir field. To P., the most interesting as-
pect was the Magus’s ability to regulate the intensity of his qi, the way he
could make it higher or lower as needed. In contrast, Master Luo could
only start and stop his external qi, never regulating the intensity.
P. describes the Magus as practicing ’’a certain form of internal al-
chemy which he called internal practice (neigong), but which is in fact a
way of Daoist practice.” P. found the Magus’s power highly credible,
especially also since he was seventy years but looked like fifty.
P. learned three lessons from him. First, not only are all patients
unique, but therapists, too, each work with their own point charts and
energetic configurations, creating a perfectly unique relationship be-
tween patient and healer.
Second, after learning about the existence of qi first from Luo, P.
found it confirmed and amply demonstrated by the Magus, realizing
that it can not only be emitted through the fingers, but also through the
palms, the abdomen, and even the entire body.
Third, not all disciples are what they claim. After suspecting D.
of ’’spiritual matchmaking” for money while visiting Luo, P. also noticed
that the Magus seemed to see him rather as an annoying, unacceptable
character, which sharply contrasted with D.’s boasting about his close
connection. In other words, it seems that P. became aware of the exist-
ence of an international ’’qi industry,” complete with marketing, connec-
tions, commissions, networks, and so on.
Daoism
Despite P.’s increasing distrust in D.’s credibility, he joined him for an-
other event, a public conference in Bangkok in 2007 that featured the
Shaolin master Jiang Feng (d. 2016), a specialist of techniques associated
with the Yijin jing. At this time, Jiang spoke directly to P. and praised his
performance. As P. remembers, he was part of a group of twenty, nine-
teen of whom the Master asked about their disease. Coming up last, he
conversed with P. not about illness, but about personal practice, asking
how long he had been training. Jiang, as P. notes, easily saw through
people as if using a natural X-Ray scanner, noting internal irregularities,
the beginnings of diseases, as well as potential qi growth.
He told me that I was ready and that I should cross the bridge now. How-
ever long I would continue to practice, without a real master based on an
authentic lineage, I would not be able to advance. That is, he spoke direct-
ly to me and told me exactly what I had been looking over twelve years
already, in fact since my first yoga class.
P. believes that when a disciple seeks assiduously, a favorable con-

text will appear and he will find his true master, who in turn gives ap-
propriate signals. For him this happened when Master Jiang invited him
to become his disciple. As a result, P., together with his wife and other
Romanians in search of healing, followed Master Jiang and went to Chi-
na.
After working there with him, later in 2007, another Chinese master,
and D.’s teacher, Professor Wang suggested that they attend a workshop
held by another Chinese qigong master, the Longmen Daoist Wang Li-
ping. Professor Wang himself was not a qigong master, but a scientist
and member of the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences, specializing in
social psychology. Among others, he published a research on Master
Wang Liping and his internal alchemy system.
Joining Master Wang as his disciples, the Romanians have since
then returned to China every three months, working both with him and
with Master Jiang, following the “rule of the hundred days.” As P. ex-
plains:
In any collaboration with a master or spiritual guide, one must see him in
person every hundred days. Actually, this is a way of checking up on your
progress, to see whether or not you have attained a certain level. If not, the
master adjusts your practice and tells you what to do next in order to be
able to move on to the next stage. If you have attained that already, of
course, you can move on and get further instructions.
Their first major meditation retreat with Master Wang occurred in

September 2008. P. came with his wife and six other Romanians, all for-
mer yogis. At that time, P. had not read yet Wang’s Daoist biography
Opening the Dragon Gate: The Making of a Modern Taoist Wizard, translated
by Thomas Cleary (New York, 1998) and was not aware of his status in
the Daoist world. All that he knew was that they were attending a Chi-
nese master’s meditation retreat, in the northern city of Dalian. For two
people, the eight-day retreat, plus air fare tickets, accommodation, and
translator, cost about 10,000 Euros. As P. stresses, ’’These things cost
both time and money, but we work hard since we are really invested in
them.”
Wang in turn praised P. and his fellow seekers for their level of pre-
paredness, finding it a very pleasant surprise that the former yogis had
already trained in certain corporeal practices for well over a decade and
conscientiously prepared by following homework instructions over sev-
eral months before meeting Wang in person. For this reason, they were
able to access certain higher levels of internal alchemy rather quickly and
soon experienced spontaneous qi and body movements originating from
the lower abdomen. P. explains
These movements do not happen unless your meridians are balanced and
clean, and unless you have enough qi in the elixir field. When they happen,
they are in fact not movements from muscles or bones, but from that
charged energy battery.
P. describes the lower elixir field neither as a point, surface, or phys-

ical organ, but as a functional area, the seat of a function that the practi-
tioner is expected to activate at a certain level. P. also says that it has its
own breathing, memory, and life.
While practice with Master Jiang happened once every three
months or one hundred days, the internal alchemy training with Master
Wang required only an intensive once a year, in China or elsewhere, in-

cluding also various European locations. For the latter, P. soon came to
serve as co-organizer, representing the Romanian Association of Daoist
Studies (RADS). One time, in 2011, the 10-day workshop was held in a
mountain resort in northern Romania. Its thirty-five participants, under-
took ‘’a program of intensive practice, between six to eight hours daily,
exactly as in China.”
P. considers Wang Liping his professor rather than his master or
spiritual guide, a role reserved for Master Jiang, whose school P. joined
as a formal disciple with all the responsibilities involved in early 2007. P.
adds that one could not act as conscientious disciple in two schools or
lineages, but should be faithful to the one we choose.
The Present
Having trained extensively and over a long period, P. today also acts as a
spiritual guide and instructor of qigong and internal alchemy. With
Wang Liping’s approval, he frequently organizes both national and in-
ternational workshops in Romania; P. also organized qigong practice
and Chinese medical therapy groups to Xinglin Clinic in Huangshan,
Anhui province until Master Jiang’s decease in 20161.
He has healed himself completely. As he noted already in 2013,
Right now I am okay with my body. I do not suffer from any type of ill-
ness, haven’t been ill for many years. I like it. My constitution and body
functions are okay.
P. stresses that he has never been hospitalized and has not had a
sick day in over twenty years. ’’My state of health, my wellness, are due
to those practices,” he concludes.
This matches the stated goals of internal alchemy: physical and
mental health, spiritual growth, and a good death. As P. says,
All I know is, normal human beings only have one chance to make the
transition correctly. A single chance. So, you cannot die twice. Cases in
1 P.’s healing groups still continue under Jiang Feng’s successor, Wu

Hongsheng, but the process takes place in a different location.
which one dies twice are rare, such as when people undergo a near-death
experience. But most people, even practitioners, have only one chance to
make the transition correctly, to die a good death that leads from having a
physical body to being a spiritual entity with no longer a physical body.
This, in turn, requires “a certain training for correct dying,” not unlike
the classes pregnant women take before giving birth.
Regarding the practitioner’s duties toward society, P. states that one
should not burden the medical and social care system, but take care of
one’s own health. In addition, this self-care is also a duty toward ances-
tors and masters, as well as to one’s descendants.
P. now calls himself an Orthodox Christian. After all, he was bap-
tized as a child, got married in the church, and had his two children bap-
tized as well. Still, he says that he is not interested in the social or ritual
aspects of either Christianity or Daoism.
I believe that we are not born at random in a certain zone of the globe. Our
birthplace has importance and meaning, as do the family and the belief of
that family. None of them are random, and one should not change them.
This fundamental commitment does not preclude a critical attitude

toward certain aspects of the Orthodox church, and P. stresses that it is
not a good thing that social leaders tend to build more churches than
schools and hospitals.
In addition, he interprets certain Romanian popular beliefs and
practices in terms of Daoist alchemy. Thus, he applies concepts of qi and
blood, flow and blockage, yin and yang, as well as the five phases to
make sense of various phenomena, such as possession, energy vampir-
ism, the evil eye, bad heart, bad blood, lunacy, as well as the custom of
placing a lit candle near the crown of the head of a deceased person
shortly after his death.
Concluding Remarks
I gave a final qualitative questionnaire to P. and his wife C. in September
2017, asking about four areas: practice goals; the elixir field in internal
versus external alchemy; the relationship between master and disciple;
and projections for the future.
As regards their goals in practice, C. notes that “each practitioner

has a particular goal in his or her practice,” emphasizing that these goals
are unique to the person and “different from one person to another.”
Also, as people advance in their practice, “their initial personal goal be-
comes more refined.” P. adds that most people have very practical goals,
such as health, welfare, and longevity, things related to what Daoist
called “destiny” (ming). But more important than these is finding per-
sonal answers to key questions of personal identity that relate to the
Daoist concept of inner nature (xing): “Who am I? Where do I come from?
Where am I going?”
As for representations of the elixir field in the body, P. says that in
internal alchemy the body is used as a source of “ingredients,” while the
respiration functions as the “fire” that cooks them. In addition, he said in
2015, the Yijin jing describes the elixir field as a “function,” rather than a
particular field or space or medicine. Yet “elixir” also means qi-enhanced
pills and herbs as well as the “irrigation of certain acupuncture points
with qi” by the Master, reflecting its use in external alchemy.
C. never practiced the Yijin jing and describes the elixir point in in-
ternal alchemy as
a space you first imagine, then use to place various ingredients during your
practice. In the end, it becomes a superb vessel, with three legs and ventila-
tion holes in its cover. In its lower part, it is a little bit larger; its upper part
is a bit narrower. Both its body and lid are made from hard material and
black in color.
The relationship between master and disciple is, as P. points out,

formalized in the Yijin jing. According to this, the disciple first of all
owes the master respect, closely followed by consistent support, ex-
pressed in periodic visits, daily practice, group organization, help for
newcomers, proselytizing, and financial support (money for herbs or
pills in case of disease, while qigong initiation and techniques are free).
The master in return offers a direct and personal relationship together
with his know-how, clear guidance, and tests of progress in the ability to
control and apply qi, as well as every effort to teach the disciple his own
level of expertise.
In internal alchemy today, this picture changes. Nowadays, stu-

dents pay for attending seminars, while the teacher provides technical
instruction and guidance. Overall the relationship is rather neutral and
non-binding. In some cases, though, the teacher allows certain students
to organize paid courses and public seminars, becoming spokespeople
for his teaching. The teacher DOES NOT offer any personal diagnosis
and healing.
According to C., who does not practice the Yijin jing, but has at-
tended healing groups on Huangshan, both the text and modern masters
encourage disciples to offer respect, availability, and seriousness as well
as gifts, typically traditional products from their home province or coun-
try. The master in return provides qi-enhanced herbs, cultivation meth-
ods, alchemical pills, and periodic checks.
This holds indeed true, as I can personally testify. Both masters,
Wang Liping and Jiang Feng, generally display an attitude of affection
and patience beyond common either teacher-student or any business
relationships.
In answer to the question where they see themselves in five years
and as they grow older, P. asserts that he expects to be “less impacted by
age and healthier than normal people of my age. I plan to write more
books and produce all sorts of audio-visual materials for online teaching.
I want to teach, guide, and help people eager to learn while being finan-
cially independent through investments.”
C., who has been deeply involved in raising their two sons, want to
recover her earlier prowess.
I wish very much to resume my practice and recover the level I once
reached with Master Wang, but this time by myself. He once explained
during a seminar that our practice is good as and when we succeed in hav-
ing the same results by ourselves that we had when he was with us. I am
missing this level of fulfillment right now.
Socially, I do not wish to stand out in any way. I consider one wastes
much energy in this plane and if you do not have any message to com-
municate to the people, you’d better mind your own business.
Professionally, I am looking for my own calling right now. It is a diffi-
cult, looking-for period, with numerous questions and with no answers.
In five years, I see myself doing something that fulfills me fully. In prac-
tice, I want a certain continuity and progress for myself.
As I grow older, I would like to retreat to the mountains, living in a

small house in a natural setting. I hope to find a deep inner serenity and
harmony within myself, continuing my practice and understanding the
mysteries of life, preparing for dying correctly at the same time.
P. and his wife have two sons (4 and 7, respectively) and see raising
them as a major priority in their lives, before even qigong and alchemical
practice. Once the children are grown, spiritual practice will again be
their major concern, focusing especially also on the transmission of the
various techniques learned from Jiang Feng and Wang Liping. As P. says
I was granted permission to transmit not only Wang’s, but also Jiang’s
teachings. And this is a thing that gives me great pleasure. I feel fulfilled
when I do that. And I will keep doing it.
By 2014, P. had already transmitted these methods for about nine

years, reaching over 300 people, probably more today. He adds that
among them were alcoholics, drug-addicts, and many sick people who
managed to transform themselves with his methods, making themselves
more whole and the world a better and more harmonious place.
In addition, I asked about their take on other schools, instructors,
and spiritual seekers in Romania or elsewhere in terms of competition,
monopoly, impostors, and more. Neither were willing to talk about this,
but they both stressed the advantages and obstacles they encountered
when working with various spiritual groups during their development.
In all cases, as C. notes, one’s path is one’s own, truly personal and indi-
vidual despite the underlying single truth all may find in the end.
Suggested Reading
Cleary, Thomas. 1997. Opening the Dragon Gate: The Making of a Modern Taoist
Wizard. By Chen Kaiguo and Zheng Shunchao. Tokyo: Tuttle.
Palmer, David A. Qigong Fever: Body, science, and utopia in China. New York:
Columbia University Press, 2007.
Phillips, Scott P. 2008. “Portrait of an American Daoist: Charles Belyea/Liu
Ming.” Journal of Daoist Studies 1: 161-76.
Rindalini, Michael. 2008. “How I Became a Daoist Priest.” Journal of Daoist

Studies 1:181-87.
Toader, Şerban. 2000. “The Seekers: Ethnographic Notes on the Atmosphere of a
Daoist Mountain in the 1990’s.” Annals of the Sergiu Al-George Institute IX-XI:
217-28.
Winn, Michael. 2008. “Daoist Neidan: Lineage and Secrecy Challenges for
Western Adepts.” Journal of Daoist Studies 1:195-99.
Yin, Robert K. 2003. Case Study Research. Design and Methods. London: Sage
Publications.
Meditation, Taijiquan and Qigong
Evidence for Their
Impact on Health and Longevity
DONALD D. DAVIS
Abstract
This paper examines the effects of meditation, mindfulness, taijiquan, and qigong.
I review the most recent and rigorous scientific research to document the impact
of these practices on outcomes commonly sought by Daoist practitioners: health
and longevity. I discuss the apparent pathways through which these practices
achieve their effects, and conclude with recommendations for practice to enhance
the likelihood that the potential benefits of these practices are successfully
achieved.
Daoists throughout history have practiced self-cultivation in pursuit of

health and longevity. A plethora of practices have been used to enable
this pursuit, but foremost among them is meditation, for example,
zuowang—sitting and forgetting. Daoists have frequently practiced
physical movements such as taijiquan and qigong that also cultivate the
state of mindfulness produced by meditation. Daoist organizations may
use taijiquan and qigong to recruit and train new members and to serve
their local communities, for example, Daoist Association USA
(www.daousa.org), U. S. Taoist Association (http://ustaoistassoc.com/),
Taoist Tai Chi Society (www.taoist.org), and the British Taoist Associa-
tion (www.taoists.co.uk).
These practices provide a gateway for many to discover Daoist ide-
as, for example, ziran, wuwei and the energetic integration of body and
mind, while improving their health and well being. Interested students
207
may go on to explore Daoist texts and learn Daoist forms of meditation

and other practices. In time, they may join Daoist organizations and en-
ter a lineage, or they may begin a lifelong practice as a non-religious
Daoist. Of course, merely practicing meditation, taijiquan or qigong does
not make one a Daoist, and many Daoists may not practice taijiquan or
qigong.
Countless meditation practices exist. Despite differences in appear-
ance and method, they share similar purposes, functions and effects. The
differences they present are chiefly a result of the cultural and historical
context in which they were created and practiced. At root they are simi-
lar, and they take one to the same destination (Kohn 2008).
Practices of Self-Cultivation
Meditation is the foundation of self-cultivation. Mindfulness is a state of
mind produced by meditation as well as an approach to meditation that
produces this state of mind. Meditation is typically practiced while one
sits and remains physically still, but it may also be practiced while stand-
ing, walking, lying down, or while engaged in daily tasks. Taijiquan and
qigong are moving forms of meditation; attention is trained, as in sitting
meditation, while one pursues self-cultivation alone or with a partner.
Taijiquan incorporates Daoist principles that are adapted to daily life, for
example, the management of contradiction and conflict. Although many
teachers emphasize the martial and health applications of taijiquan, it
can be a powerful means for self-cultivation when practiced with this
aim in mind.
Meditation, taijiquan and qigong employ three forms of mental
training. In focused attention, one directs the attention to some target and
sustains this focus, for example, a physiological process such as breath-
ing, a sensation in the body such as tightness or balance, an object or
sound, or a physical activity such as pulling weeds. Intentional awareness
is a special application of focused attention where the mind employs an
intention to guide attention and awareness, for example, visualization of
internal energy states or substituting positive emotions for negative emo-
tions. The attention is directed to create desired outcomes and hence is
more instrumental than focused attention.
Davis, “Meditation, Taijiquan, and Qigong” / 209
In open awareness, the mind attends to sensations and thoughts as

they emerge and disappear without employing the intellect. Open
awareness focuses attention on experience in the present moment with-
out analysis and judgment. This approach defines the state of mindful-
ness as well as the meditation method used to produce it; many refer to
this practice as mindfulness meditation. Researchers have most often
studied this approach to meditation.
Some practices employ multiple forms of mental training. For ex-
ample, focused attention may be combined with intentional awareness
when directed to different parts of the body and its processes as in many
internal alchemy practices. In the solo practice of taijiquan, focused at-
tention may be used to isolate and remove tension in specific areas of the
body or to align one’s posture with a principle such as separation of yin
and yang. Open awareness may be used to sense the mind and body
while they move. Intentional awareness may be used to refine a specific
principle such as controlling one’s steps and shifting the body’s weight
while moving. In push hands (tuishou), taijiquan practice with a partner,
one must integrate and rapidly move between focused attention, open
awareness, and intentional awareness.
As discussed below, there is some evidence that the mental focus
one uses may achieve different effects and may operate through different
mechanisms, for example, focused attention seems to engage different
areas of the brain than open awareness forms of meditation. Taijiquan
and qigong, which combine all three forms of awareness with body
movement, may stimulate broader neural integration than sitting medi-
tation, but research has not documented this outcome. We discuss this
more below.
Students may be exposed first to a more popular practice, such as
taijiquan, and later become acquainted with various meditation practices.
With the right teacher, students may learn about self-cultivation and the
Daoist roots of taijiquan and some qigong practices, and then go on to
explore the Daoist literature. Self-development through these experienc-
es is seldom linear and, instead, more closely resembles movement
through a labyrinth. When walking the labyrinth, one moves through a
series of intricate and winding paths from a position outside the circle,
finally to arrive at circle’s center, the source of its spiritual power.
Michael Rinaldini illustrates this winding path of self-cultivation

toward his own center (2008). He first encountered Daoist principles
through acupuncture and qigong treatment to address health concerns,
which led to study of qigong and Daoism, which led several years later
to being ordained as a Daoist priest in the Longmen tradition. Now he
trains Daoist priests in the United States. Daoist meditation (zuowang) is
the core of the practice he teaches, accompanied by instruction in qigong
and Daoist texts.
Taijiquan is the physical embodiment of Daoist principles and their
manifestation in daily life. Moreover, like some types of qigong, it pro-
vides a powerful entry point to the mind for those who have difficulty
accessing it through long periods of motionless sitting required of many
meditation traditions. When practiced properly under the guidance of a
knowledgeable teacher, meditation, taijiquan and qigong converge on
the same point; they each lead to the center of the labyrinth.
Many, perhaps most, of those who meditate or practice taijiquan
and qigong are unaware of the Daoist influence on the arts they practice,
and they have no desire to learn about Daoism. Some may even chafe at
attempts to emphasize the Daoist connection. I’ve had several students
who were devout members of religious faiths who preferred not to learn
about the Daoist principles embedded in meditation, taijiquan and
qigong although they practiced these diligently.
Ultimately it doesn’t matter. One achieves the results from these
practices that one seeks—health and longevity, peace and tranquility,
positive relationships, spiritual growth, or all of the above. One achieves
these effects whether or not one understands the cultural origins of the
practice or its mechanism of action so long as the teaching they receive is
authentic and they practice with patience and persistence. This is be-
cause these practices operate simultaneously on the mind and body; they
achieve their effects through mental and physical systems shared by all
humans around the world. In the next section, I summarize the evidence
demonstrating the impact of these practices on health and longevity. In
the final section, I explain how these practices achieve their effects and
the implication of this for practice.
Impact on Mind and Health

Thousands of research studies have examined the impact of meditation,
taijiquan, qigong and the mental states that they produce on many indi-
cators of mental and physical health and longevity. Additionally, re-
searchers have begun to explore the underlying mechanisms that may
explain their influence. One’s personal experience with these practices is
often sufficient to document their effectiveness—one’s balance improves,
chronic illnesses are relieved or healed, positive emotions replace nega-
tive emotions. Like with any new health practice, research evidence is an
important external source of validation that may encourage the practice
of meditation, taijiquan and qigong among those who are unfamiliar
with them or skeptical about their claims. I have received numerous re-
ferrals from physicians who have been persuaded by research evidence
that these practices are beneficial rather than by their personal experi-
ence with them.
Research examining these practices has also been criticized. Re-
searchers often fail to consider the cultural context of these practices
when they study them and may strip out essential components when
they test them. Researchers may not include highly experienced practi-
tioners in the design and implementation of their studies. Small sample
sizes and idiosyncratic implementations of a practice make it difficult to
detect effects if they exist. Little attention is paid to differences in taiji-
quan and qigong practices and the manner in which they can be taught.
Researchers often fail to understand differences in these practices and
treat them interchangeably, for example, a researcher may not identify
the specific style of taijiquan or qigong that was tested. Because of flaws
such as these, it is difficult to draw confident conclusions from single
research studies.
Rather than emphasize single research studies, I relied on reviews
that employed meta-analysis, which is a statistical technique used to ag-
gregate results across numerous studies. Meta-analysis, the gold stand-
ard for research literature reviews, estimates overall effects after control-
ling for errors due to small sample size, poor measurement and other
weaknesses in research design and methods. The estimated effect sizes
are believed to represent more closely “true” outcomes than effects re-
ported in any single research study. Meta-analysis allows one to draw
conclusions with much greater confidence than can be drawn from any
single study.
I also focused on studies that examined each practice by itself rather
than combined it with other practices so that I could draw clear conclu-
sions about the impact of each practice. With one exception (Mindfulness
Based Stress Reduction, MBSR), I excluded studies that combined medi-
tation or mindfulness training with other components, such as psycho-
therapy or physical therapy.
This exclusion means that I do not discuss some successful uses of
interventions in which meditation is one of several components, for ex-
ample, treatment of substance use and addiction, trauma recovery, and
other psychological disorders (Creswell 2017). Finally, I emphasized re-
sults from randomized controlled trials (RCTs) in which participants
were randomly assigned to receive meditation, taijiquan or qigong train-
ing or to a control group that may have received treatment as usual, pla-
cebo treatments, or no treatment at all. My emphasis on meta-analysis
and RCTs yields the greatest confidence concerning scientific support for
these mindfulness practices.
One of the earliest and most robust examinations of meditation as a
health treatment focused on its ability to alleviate stress and reduce
chronic pain for patients for whom usual medical treatment was ineffec-
tive (Kabat-Zinn 1982). Mindfulness meditation, which employed fo-
cused awareness and open awareness forms of meditation to scan the
body and focus on the breath, relaxation, perceptions of pain and reac-
tions to it, was combined with practice of hatha yoga postures to develop
the state of mindfulness through movement.
Mindfulness was also encouraged during walking, standing and
eating. Participants practiced in groups and at home for eight weeks and
were provided instructional materials to calibrate expectations and to
explain the relationship between stress and illness and how meditation
could heal their chronic pain and enhance their health. Significant de-
creases in numerous measures of pain and other health symptoms were
observed in more than half of the meditating participants.
Subsequent studies employing more rigorous research designs con-
firmed these results and showed participants continued to demonstrate
improved pain management and sustained their meditation practice for
up to four years after the training ended (Kabat-Zinn et al. 1985; 1986).
These studies stimulated numerous attempts to examine the impact of

MBSR and similar approaches to mindfulness meditation on many types
of physical and mental illness as well as its impact on healthy individu-
als that do not report symptoms of illness. MBSR is the most document-
ed application of meditation in health care.
Recent reviews have shown that MBSR has been effective in reduc-
ing anxiety, depression, and feelings of distress and burnout alone as
well as when they accompany chronic pain, cardiovascular disease, and
chronic somatic diseases such as fibromyalgia (Gotink et al. 2015;
Khoury et al. 2015). MBSR has become a model of applying meditation to
the treatment of physical and mental illness and has inspired integration
of meditation with other forms of treatment such as psychotherapy.
This record of effectiveness has inspired researchers to study the
impact of meditation and meditative movement practices such as taiji-
quan, qigong and yoga on many indicators of health and longevity and
to speculate about their causal mechanisms. I review these studies next
sorted into the physical and mental conditions they address. I emphasize
reviews that have been published recently in peer-reviewed journals.
Specific Conditions
ARTHRITIS: Taijiquan practice has been shown to produce small to
moderate improvements in stiffness, pain and fatigue, physical function-
ing, bone growth, and connective tissue for patients with rheumatoid
arthritis and osteoarthritis (especially of the knee), and as well as im-
provement in related psychological well being and quality of life (Wang
2011; Chen et al. 2016).
BONE DENSITY: Taijiquan has been shown to increase bone miner-
al density at the lumbar spine, femur neck, femur trochanter, and total
hip among older adults, perimenopausal and postmenopausal women,
people with osteoarthritis, and cancer survivors (Zou et al. 2017).
BRAIN FUNCTION: Numerous studies of meditation show that it
alters brain structure and function due to the brain’s neuroplasticity—
changes that occur in response to experience—which can include growth
of new connections and creation of new neurons (Davidson and Lutz
2007). Meditation increases gray matter volume and alters at least eight
regions of the brain, including those regions devoted to meta-awareness
(frontopolar cortex/BA 10), exteroceptive and interoceptive body aware-

ness (sensory cortices and insula), memory consolidation and reconsoli-
dation (hippocampus), self and emotion regulation (anterior and mid-
cingulate; orbitofrontal cortex), and intra- and inter-hemispheric com-
munication (superior longitudinal fasciculus; corpus callosum) (Fox et al.
2014).
Different areas of the brain activate or deactivate depending on
whether focused attention, open awareness, compassion/lovingkindness,
or mantra types of meditation are employed (Boccia et al. 2016). Brain
network integration is higher among experienced meditators compared
to novices, which indicates the influence of practice and experience (van
Lutterveld et al. 2017).
CANCER: Research examining meditation in cancer has focused
more on complex interventions comprised of meditation combined with
multiple therapeutic components, such as MBSR and mindfulness-based
cognitive therapy, than on the impact of meditation alone. Reviews of
these interventions reveal that they alleviate symptoms that accompany
cancer treatment, for example, depression and anxiety, and improve
physical functioning and quality of life (Gotink et al. 2015).
It is impossible to estimate the extent to which meditation or other
components of the intervention are responsible for these effects. Never-
theless, these interventions appear to produce the same changes in brain
structure and function produced by long-term meditation practice,
which suggests that the meditation component of these interventions
and the state of mindfulness that it produces exerts a strong influence on
outcomes (Gotink et al. 2016).
Taijiquan and qigong have been shown to be effective in reducing
multiple effects of cancer and its treatment, such as fatigue, sleep dis-
turbance, shortness of breath, strength, anxiety, depression, and quality
of life (Vu et al. 2014). Among cancer survivors, 75% of whom were
women, taijiquan and qigong improved fatigue, sleep difficulty, symp-
tom depression, and quality of life (Wayne et al. in press).
CARDIOVASCULAR: Mindfulness practices enhance numerous
indicators of cardiovascular health in healthy adults and those with car-
diovascular disease. Meditation has been shown to reduce diastolic and
systolic blood pressure (Shi et al. 2017). Taijiquan and qigong have been
shown to improve total cholesterol, low-density cholesterol, high-density
cholesterol, and triglycerides (Hartley et al. 2014) and improve diastolic

and systolic pressure among those with stroke risk factors (Lauche et al.
2017; Yang, Wu, and Wang 2017) and in patients with cardiovascular
disease (Wang et al. 2016).
Taijiquan practice has been shown to improve cardiorespiratory
fitness among healthy adults (Zheng et al. 2015) and to enhance left ven-
tricular ejection fraction and B-type natriuretic peptide, a hormone relat-
ed to regulation of blood pressure among patients with chronic heart
failure (Gu et al. 2017). Taijiquan also enhanced vagal modulation and
improved heart rate and heart rate variability in patients with coronary
heart disease (Chang et al. 2008). This influence on vagal response
demonstrates the ability of taijiquan to influence autonomic nervous sys-
tem responsiveness, which, as we discuss below, may explain how mind-
fulness practices enhance physical and mental health and longevity.
Qigong when used alone has also been shown to reduce diastolic
and systolic blood pressure and, when combined with anti-hypertensive
drugs, has been shown to reduce diastolic and systolic blood pressure
more than use of anti-hypertensive drugs used alone (Xiong et al. 2015).
Baduanjin or Eight Brocades qigong has been shown to improve diastolic
and systolic blood pressure, resting heart rate, and trunk flexibility (Zou
et al. 2017).
COGNITION: Both focused attention and open awareness medita-
tion have been shown to have a significant positive influence on percep-
tion, attention, intelligence, learning and memory, and the cognitive con-
trol required to manage emotions beyond that observed with mere relax-
ation training or no treatment (Eberth and Sedlmeier 2012; Sedlmeier et
al. 2012; Sedlmeier, Lobe, and Quasten, in press).
Among those aged 60 and over, taijiquan has been shown to im-
prove cognitive function as measured with multiple neuropsychological
tests. Strongest improvement was seen for executive function (processing
speed, attention, and working memory) in those without significant
preexisting impairment; those who were cognitively impaired experi-
enced smaller gains (Wayne et al. 2014).
EMOTION REGULATION: Meditation has been shown to increase
positive emotions and decrease negative emotions as well as improve the
ability to manage their expression. Meditation practiced to cultivate
kindness and compassion has been found to increase mindfulness, com-
passion toward oneself and others and decrease symptoms of depression

(Galante et al. 2014). Practitioners also report improvement in positive
and negative emotions, psychological distress, positive thinking, inter-
personal relationships, and empathy (Shonin et al. 2015).
FALLS AND FALLING: Taijiquan practice reduces the likelihood of
falling and being injured from falls among older adults (Lomas-Vega et
al. 2017). This result is due in part to increased bone density and en-
hanced body perception, as discussed above. These positive effects in-
creased with practice frequency. Practice of the Yang style may provide
more benefits than practice of the Sun style of taijiquan (Huang et al
2017).
FATIGUE: Taijiquan has been found to reduce fatigue and improve
vitality more than conventional therapy (Xiang, Lu, Chen, Wen 2017).
INFLAMMATION: Inflammatory processes are thought to play a
role in many health conditions such as fatigue, pain, artery and heart
disease, diabetes, and negative emotions such as depression. Chronic
inflammation is associated with the aging process and reduces longevity.
Bower and Irwin (2016) describe the impact of taijiquan and qigong
on circulating, cellular, and genomic markers of inflammation and pro-
vide a model that may explain the causal process underlying the link
between mind-body practices such as these and inflammatory biology.
Their review revealed mixed results for circulating inflammatory mark-
ers (C-reactive protein, interleukin-6, and cytokine production).
More consistent findings were shown for decreased expression of
inflammation-related genes and reduced signaling through proinflam-
matory transcription factor NF- κβ. Taijiquan and qigong seem to en-
hance longevity through their ability to reduce inflammation throughout
the body. We discuss this potential causal mechanism more below.
LONGEVITY: Daoists have pursued longevity for millennia. Meditation,
taijiquan and qigong contribute to longevity by reducing the impact of
numerous diseases and chronic conditions. By reducing inflammation,
these practices also enhance telomerase activity. Telomerase is an en-
zyme that influences the length of telomeres, which are proteins that
protect the end of chromosomes. Telomerase activity and telomere
length are associated with health and longevity. Chronic stress and de-
pression reduce telomerase activity and shorten telomeres. Shortened
telomeres are associated with aging, poor health and mortality.
Mindfulness meditation is positively associated with increases in

telomerase activity (Schutte and Malouff 2014). Qigong and other forms
of exercise also increase telomerase activity (Deng et al. 2016). Kurth,
Cherbuin, and Luders (2017) describe how meditation can enhance te-
lomerase activity, slow down aging of the brain and increase longevity.
MEDITATION RETREATS: Multi-day retreats are a common meth-
od for providing meditation training. Khoury et al. (2016) summarize the
nearly two-dozen studies that examine their impact. They report that
meditation retreats have large effects on reducing anxiety, depression
and stress. They have more moderate effects on enhancing emotion regu-
lation and quality of life. These effects are achieved through increased
mindfulness, compassion and acceptance.
MULTIPLE SCLEROSIS: Multiple sclerosis (MS) is a chronic disease
that affects the brain and spinal cord. For unknown reasons, the immune
system attacks the protective sheath that covers nerve fibers, which dis-
rupts the ability of the nervous system to operate. Over time, the nervous
system becomes permanently damaged. Taijiquan has been shown to
improve MS symptoms. Taijiquan practice improved balance, gait, flexi-
bility, and leg strength, and reduced pain, fatigue and depression, and
produced higher quality of life among those with MS (Taylor and Tay-
lor-Piliae 2017; Zou et al. 2017).
PAIN: Pain management was the first focus of treatment for medita-
tion. Meditation and meditative physical movement (yoga) are im-
portant elements in MBSR, which has been shown to be effective in re-
ducing pain symptoms and comorbid conditions such as depression as
well as numerous other chronic medical and psychological conditions
(Hilton et al. 2017). Taijiquan has also been shown to reduce chronic pain
associated with osteoarthritis and osteoporosis as well as lower back
pain (Kong et al. 2016). Some studies have shown that external qigong
(external qi healing) may reduce chronic pain (Lee, Pittler, and Ernst
2007)
PARKINSONS DISEASE: Parkinson’s disease (PD) is a chronic neu-
rological disorder that affects the brain. Symptoms include tremors, dif-
ficult movement and gait and balance problems. Its causes are unknown,
and there is no cure. Taijiquan and qigong have been shown to improve
motor movement and balance, reduce falls and symptoms of depression,
and enhance quality of life among those with PD (Song et al. 2017). Taiji-
quan plus medication showed greater improvement in motor function

than medication used alone (Yang et al. 2015).
PSYCHOLOGICAL OUTCOMES: Psychological outcomes have
been examined in clinical populations that display symptoms of mental
illness as well as in populations of healthy adults. Meditation has often
been combined with other forms of treatment, most commonly cognitive
behavioral therapy. Sedlmeier and colleagues, after reviewing hundreds
of studies, report that meditation has a moderate to strong positive im-
pact on stress management, intelligence, interpersonal relationships, self-
concept, positive emotions, mindfulness, and attention (Eberth and
Sedlmeier 2012; Sedlmeier et al. 2012). Moreover, weaker positive effects
were found for reducing anxiety, depression and other negative emo-
tions. Effects were stronger among long-term meditators and those with
more extensive meditation training (Sedlmeier et al., in press). Effects
varied across type of meditation.
Taijiquan and qigong have shown beneficial effects on quality of life
for patients with breast cancer, schizophrenia, low back pain, heart fail-
ure and diabetes (Kelley and Kelley 2015). Taijiquan and qigong have
also been shown to have beneficial effects on depression, anxiety, and
stress management (Chi et al. 2013; Liu et al. 2015; Wang, Chan, et al.
2013; 2014; Wang, Lee, et al. 2014; Yin and Dishman 2014).
PULMONARY FUNCTION: Compared to no exercise and usual
medical care, taijiquan has been shown to yield greater improvement in
pulmonary function and exercise capacity among patients with chronic
obstructive pulmonary disease (Guo et al. 2015; Ngai, Jones, and Tam
2016). Taijiquan has also been shown to enhance lung capacity, cardi-
orespiratory endurance, and cardio function in healthy adults (Zhang, Li,
Huang, Liu, Tao, and Chen 2015).
SLEEP QUALITY: Insomnia and other aspects of poor sleep quality
may occur alone or may accompany other conditions such as cancer and
anxiety. Mindfulness meditation may provide mild improvement in
sleep quality for patients with insomnia (Gong et al. 2016). Taijiquan and
qigong improve multiple indicators of sleep quality (latency, duration,
efficiency, disturbance) as well as quality of life, physical performance
and symptoms of depression (Du et al. 2015; Wang, Lee, et al. 2016).
STRESS: Stress is widespread in modern society; it contributes to
numerous conditions and reduces longevity. Meditation is a popular
method for managing stress. Pascoe, Thompson, Jenkins, and Ski (2017)
report the impact of different types of meditation on multiple indicators
of stress. They report that focused attention meditation reduces blood
cortisol and systolic blood pressure, open awareness meditation reduces
heart rate, and both forms of meditation reduce C-reactive protein, tri-
glycerides, and tumor necrosis factor-alpha, which is a protein related to
inflammation. Mindfulness meditation also appears to be successful in
treating posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD); interventions with greater
mindfulness content were more effective (Hopwood and Schutte 2017).
Overall, meditation decreases the markers of stress in a variety of differ-
ent populations.
The Embodied Mind

Thousands of scientific studies of meditation, taijiquan and qigong
demonstrate that these practices have a beneficial impact on many indi-
cators of physical and mental health and enhance longevity. Research is
also beginning to reveal how these practices achieve their effects. There
appears to be growing agreement that they exert their influence through
several psychological mechanisms (mind): attention regulation, body
awareness, emotion regulation, and change in perspective of the self
(Hölzel et al. 2011).
These mental processes are firmly embedded in the body and oper-
ate on and through biological mechanisms, in particular, those associated
with stress buffering (Creswell 2017) and alterations in inflammatory
response (Bower and Irwin 2016). These pathways are connected; mind
and body interpenetrate each other. Meditation, taijiquan and qigong
operate on both mind and body together. In particular these mindfulness
practices operate synergistically to alter brain density, structure and in-
tegration across areas of the brain that increase with meditation experi-
ence and strengthen over time (Hölzel, Carmody, et al. 2011; Hölzel,
Lazaar et al. 2011). Focused attention, open awareness and intentional
awareness directed to fostering compassion and loving kindness engage
different areas of the brain and stimulate different pathways to health
and longevity (Ricard, Lutz, and Davidson 2014).
Although typically studied in isolation, the indicators of health and
longevity we review above are related to each other. For example, stress
can trigger pain and inflammation, impairment in the immune system

and reduced ability to thwart illness and disease. Conditions such as ar-
thritis, cancer, fibromyalgia, multiple sclerosis, and Parkinson’s disease
may stimulate a stress response, which in turn can make these conditions
worse. The mental state of mindfulness produced by meditation, taiji-
quan and qigong reduces the stress response and thus relieves multiple
symptoms associated with these conditions. The following example illus-
trates this connectedness.
Falls are the leading cause of injury and death among older adults
and cost an estimated $31 billion per year in Medicare costs (Centers for
Disease Control and Prevention 2016). The experience of falling may in-
crease feelings of stress, anxiety and fear of falling, which may cause one
to reduce physical activity and become weaker, and thus increase the
chance of falling again or succumbing to serious illness. Loss of function
and the experience of chronic health conditions, such as those we review
above, increase the likelihood of depression and anxiety among older
adults, particularly women, and increase the probability of suicide
(Conwell, Van Orden, and Caine 2011).
Taijiquan improves musculoskeletal health through increased bone
density and joint strength in the lower body, thus reducing the chance of
falling, fear of falling, and the severity of injury associated with falls
among older adults. Taijiquan combined with meditation can be effective
for reducing anxiety and depression at the same time that it strengthens
the body.
The ability of meditation, taijiquan and qigong to buffer the impact
of stress and enhance resilience in the face of adversity may be the most
important mechanism to explain the effectiveness of these mindfulness
practices. Creswell and Lindsay (2014) explain how this may occur. The
mental state of mindfulness, which is produced by meditation, taijiquan
and qigong, increases the engagement of areas of the brain (e. g., pre-
frontal cortex) that inhibit the stress response (a “top down” regulatory
pathway), particularly with emotionally laden events.
At the same time, mindfulness also reduces reactivity of stress pro-
cessing regions of the brain (e. g., amygdala, a “bottom up” regulatory
pathway), that is, one is able to face stressors with greater equanimity.
The experience of stress increases release of hormones (e. g., cortisol),
which at excessive levels weaken the immune system (e. g., reducing
CD4+ lymphocyte counts) and thus increase risk of infection and suscep-
tibility to illness as well as increase anxiety and depression. Stress may
activate proteins (e. g., nuclear factor kappa-light-chain-enhancer of B
cells) that control gene expression related to inflammation and cell sur-
vival (Muehsam et al. 2017). Over time, chronic stress increases morbidi-
ty and mortality. Meditation, taijiquan and qigong help to buffer these
processes and reduce their damaging impact.
Bower and Irwin (2016) suggest that meditation, taijiquan and
qigong alter the autonomic nervous system, which is a key regulator of
inflammatory gene expression and the stress response. Bidirectional in-
teractions between the brain (top-down) and peripheral systems (bot-
tom-up) mediated by the autonomic nervous system are the mind-body
link through which mindfulness practices exert their buffering effects
(Taylor et al. 2010).
The autonomic nervous system (ANS) mediates the stress response
and plays an important role in several physical and mental disorders.
Thayer and Sternberg (2006) describe how the ANS regulates the cardio-
vascular system, glucose levels, reactions to stress, and inflammatory
processes. The prefrontal cortex and amygdala, which are influenced by
mindfulness practices, are important brain structures that regulate these
systems via the vagus nerve. The vagus nerve extends from the brain
down through the neck and chest and into the abdomen and colon; it
connects to all the organs (except the adrenal glands). It helps to regulate
heart rate and blood pressure, insulin secretion, stomach acidity, in-
flammation, and mental states such as anxiety and depression. Vagal
regulation of inflammation and immune response may be one of the
most important mechanisms underlying the effectiveness of meditation,
taijiquan and qigong (Muehsam et al. 2017).
Vagal response increases the experience of positive emotions such
as joy, hope, gratitude, awe, inspiration, and love and enhances psycho-
logical and social well being and explains how positive emotions
strengthen resilience and psychological resources (Kok and Fredrickson
2010). Over time, experience of positive emotions strengthens vagal tone.
Both open awareness (mindfulness) and intentional awareness (loving-
kindness/ compassion) approaches to meditation increase the positive
emotions that have been shown to strengthen vagal response (Fredrick-
son et al. 2017).
In sum, meditation, taijiquan and qigong change the brain and buff-
er the experience of stress. They exert a top-down (mind) and bottom-up
(body) influence on physical and mental health and longevity. This in-
fluence is delivered through the autonomic nervous system, in particular,
the vagus nerve. Strong vagal tone enhances positive emotions, health
and longevity; weak vagal tone increases negative emotions, morbidity
and mortality.
Conclusions
Health and longevity may be enhanced through changing the body to
change the mind (bottom-up), or by changing the mind to change the
body (top-down). This bidirectional influence is useful to teachers as
practices may be directed to students based on their preference and
preparation. Sitting meditation may be encouraged for those who can
more easily sit still, whereas taijiquan and qigong may be suggested for
those who are naturally more active. Some students will be receptive to
all of these practices.
The large number of physical and mental symptoms that are influ-
enced by taijiquan and qigong suggest that they may operate in a top-
down as well as bottom-up fashion. Although speculation, the wide va-
riety of physical movements combined with deep breathing and breath
regulation, self-massage, relaxation, meditation and mindfulness, and qi
cultivation based on principles of Traditional Chinese Medicine that are
often included in taijiquan and qigong practice suggest that these prac-
tices may exert broader impact than meditation alone, particularly given
the greater opportunity that these practice components may have to
strengthen vagal response and enhance autonomic flexibility. This is an
important area for future research.
Multiple gates exist to enter the Dao, and students should be en-
couraged to use the gate that opens most easily for them, whether it is
sitting meditation, meditative movement with taijiquan or qigong, study
of Daoist texts, dietetics, or all of the above (Davis and Kohn 2008). Most
important is persistent practice guided by a teacher who embodies Dao-
ist principles and can demonstrate them in daily life.
Daoists learned how to hack the body’s central nervous system with
the methods of self-cultivation they used to pursue health and longevity.
Those who diligently practice meditation, taijiquan and qigong will en-
hance health and longevity just as the Daoists of old.
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doi:10.3390/ijerph14091000/.
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Books
Anonymous. 2017. 种梅心法. Beijing: Shuaizhen shuzhai.
Baptandier, Brigitte, ed. 2017. Le battement de la vie: Le corps naturel et ses répresenta-
tions en Chine. Nanterre: Publications de la Société d’Ethnologie.
Choi, Mihwa. 2017. Death Rituals and Politics in Northern Song China. New York: Ox-
ford University Press.
Cullen, Christopher. 2017. Heavenly Numbers: Astronomy and Authority in Early Impe-
rial China. London: Oxford University Press.
Cullen, Christopher. 2017. The Foundations of Celestial Reckoning: Three Ancient Chi-
nese Astronomical Systems. London: Routledge.
Ebrey, Patricia Buckley, and Shih-shan Susan Huang, eds. 2017. Visual and Material
Cultures in Middle Period China. Leiden: Brill.
Harper, Donald. and Marc Kalinowski, eds. 2017. Books of Fate and Popular Culture in
Early China: The Daybook Manuscripts of the Warring States, Qin, and Han. Lei-
den: Brill.
Huang Yuanji 黄元吉. 2017. 乐育堂语录. Beijing: Shuaizhen shuzhai.
Johnson, Ian. 2017. The Souls of China: The Return of Religion after Mao. New York:
Pantheon Books.
Jones, Stephen. 2017. Daoist Priests of the Li Family: Ritual Life in Rural China. St.
Petersburg, Fla.: Three Pines Press.
Kohn, Livia. 2017. Pristine Affluence: Daoist Roots in the Stone Age. St. Petersburg, Fla.:
Three Pines Press.
Lai, Chitim 黎志添, ed. 2017. 修心煉性: 呂祖疏解無上玄功靈妙真經白話註譯.

Hong Kong: Chinese University Press.
Lai, Chitim 黎志添. 2017. 了解道教. Hong Kong: Chinese University Press.
233
Lam, Joseph, Shuen-fu Lin, Christian de Pee, and Martin Powers, eds. 2017. Senses of
the City: Perceptions of Hangzhou and Southern Song China, 1127-1279. New York:
Columbia University Press.
Liu Yiming 刘一明. 2017. 周易阐真. Beijing: Shuaizhen shuzhai.
Lo, Ping-cheung, and Sumner B. Twiss, eds. 2017. Chinese Just War Ethics: Origin,
Development, and Dissent. London: Routledge.
Man, Eva Kit Wah. 2017. Bodies in China: Philosophy, Aesthetics, Gender, and Politics.
Miller, James. 2017. China’s Green Religion: Daoism and the Quest for a Sustainable
Future. New York: Columbia University Press.
Moeller, Hans-Georg, and Paul D’Abrosio. 2017. Genuine Pretending: On the Philoso-
phy of the Zhuangzi. New York: Columbia University Press.
Palmer, David A., and Elijah Siegler. 2017. Dream Trippers: Global Daoism and the
Predicament of Modern Spirituality. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Pang-White, Ann A., ed. 2017. The Bloomsbury Research Handbook of Chinese Philoso-
phy and Gender. London: Bloomsbury.
Poo, Mu-chou, H. A. Drake, and Lisa Raphals, eds. 2017. Old Society, New Belief: Reli-
gious Transformation of China and Rome, ca. 1st-6th Centuries. New York: Oxford
University Press.
Reiter, Florian C. 2017. The Taoism of Clarifed Tenuity: Content and Intention. Wiesba-
den: Harrassowitz.
Rothschild, B. Harry, and Leslie V. Wallace, eds. 2017. Behaving Badly in Early and
Medieval China. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press.
Salguero, C. Pierce, ed. 2017. Buddhism and Medicine: An Anthology, 900-1600. New
York: Columbia University Press.
Shinno, Reiko. 2016. The Politics of Chinese Medicine Under Mongol Rule. London:
Routledge.
Van Els, Paul, and Sarah Queen, eds. 2017. Between History and Philosophy: Anecdotes
in Early China. Albany: State University of New York Press.
Virag, Curie. 2017. The Emotions in Early Chinese Philosophy. New York: Oxford Uni-
versity Press.
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Forthcoming
Jia, Jinhua. 2018. A Career of Their Own: Daoist Priestesses in Tang China (618-907).
New York: Columbia University Press.
Whitfield, Susan. 2018.Silk, Slaves, and Stupas: Material Culture of the Silk Road.
Berkeley: University of California Press.
Willmont, Dennis. 2018. The Dàodéjīng Companion. Vol. 1 in the Dàodéjīng Series.
Marshfield: Willmountain Press.
Willmont, Dennis. 2018. The Flower of Authenticity and the Three Levels of Healing in
the Dàodéjīng and Classical Chinese Medicine, Vol. 2 in the Dàodéjīng Series.
Marshfield: Willmountain Press
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Allan, Sarah. 2017. “The Jishi Outburst Flood of 1920 BCE and the Great Flood
Legend in Ancient China: Preliminary Reflections.” Journal of Chinese Hu-
manities 3.1:23-34.
Billioud, Sebastien. 2017. Yiguandao's Patriarch Zhang Tianran (1889-1947): Hag-

iography, Deification and Production of Charisma in a Modern Religious
Organization. In Making Saints in Modern China, edited by David Ownby,
Vincent Goossaert, and Ji Zhe, 209-40. New York: Oxford University Press.
Bumbacher, Stephan Peter. 2017. "Reconstructing the Zhuangzi: Preliminary Con-

siderations." Asiatische Studien/Etudes asiatiques 70.3:611-74.
Campo, Daniela. 2017. “Chan Master Xuyun: The Embodiment of an Ideal, the
Transmission of a Model.” In Making Saints in Modern China, edited by David
Ownby, Vincent Goossaert, and Ji Zhe, 99-136. New York: Oxford University
Press.
Chen, Lianshan. 2017. “A Discussion on the Concept of Sacred Narrative.” Jour-

nal of Chinese Humanities 3.1:35-47.
Chung, Julianne. 2017. “Taking Skepticism Seriously: How the Zhuang Zi Can
Inform Contemporary Epistemology.” Comparative Philosophy 8.2:3-29.
Damyanova, Desislava. 2016. “Process Ontology in an Eastern Perspective, with

Special Reference to Zhuangzi.” Balkan Journal of Philosophy, 8.2:175-81.
Damyanova, Desislava. 2015. “Early Daoism and Its Influence on East Asian
Thought and Culture.” Asia and the World: Relationship and Interaction, 200-
208. Taipei; Asia and the World Forum.
Damyanova, Desislava. 2015. “The Philosophy of Zhuangzi and the Commentary

Tradition of Guo Xiang.” Societas Classica 6-7:289-302.
Goldin, Paul R. 2017. “Non-deductive Argumentation in Early Chinese Philoso-

phy.” In Between History and Philosophy: Anecdotes in Early China, edited by
Paul Van Els and Sarah Queen, 41-62. Albany: State University of New York
Press.
Goossaert, Vincent. 2017. “Zhang Yuanxu: The Making and Unmaking of a Dao-
ist Saint.” In Making Saints in Modern China, edited by David Ownby, Vin-
cent Goossaert, and Ji Zhe, 78-98. New York: Oxford University Press.
Herrou, Adeline. 2017. “Ren Fajiu: A Living Daoist Immortal in the People's Re-
public. “In Making Saints in Modern China, edited by David Ownby, Vincent
Goossaert, and Ji Zhe, 419-49. New York: Oxford University Press.
Kiely, Jan. 2017. “The Charismatic Monk and the Chanting Masses: Master
Yinguang and his Pure Land Revival Movement.“ In Making Saints in Mod-
ern China, edited by David Ownby, Vincent Goossaert, and Ji Zhe, 30-77.
New York: Oxford University Press.
Kohn, Livia. 2017. “Das Frauenbild im Daoismus und seine Bedeutung für die
heutigen Religionen in China.“ Zeitschrift für Qigong Yangsheng 2017:30-41.
Kohn, Livia. 2017. “Körper und Geist in der alten chinesischen

Philosophie.“ Zeitschrift für Qigong Yangsheng 2017:68-76.
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représentation et de réception du taoïsme en France et en Europe." Ph. D.
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Conferences
Association for Asian Studies

Toronto, March 16-19, 2017
There were quite a few papers on Daoist presented at the AAS meeting
in Toronto, spread over various panels. Thus, Jonathan Pettit spoke
about “Sacred Geographies of Early Daoism” in a panel on mapping
cosmic space; Dominic Steavu discussed “A Recipe for Immortality:
‘Mushrooms’ as Sacred Substance in Daoism” in a panel on the religious
life of substances; Michael Naparstek presented on “Figuring on Salva-
tion: A Daoist Scroll for Saving Souls in Jiajing’s Court” as part of a panel
oniiconography and hagiography.
In addition, an entire panel dedicated to Daoism was chaired by Gil
Raz, with Stephen Bokenkamp as discussant. The topic was “Storied
Stones: The Lived Religion of Daoist Communities.” Papers included Gil
Raz, “Local Daoism: The Community of the Northern Wei Dao-Buddhist
Stelae;” Shinyi Chao, “The Cult of Wei Huacun during the Song-Yuan
Dynasties;” and Richard G. Wang, “Tianfei Palace, Qingwei Lineage, and
Local Society in Ming Tianjin.”
In addition, the SSCR held its meeting in conjunction with the con-
ference, bringing together sinologists and Daoist specialists for up-to-
date discussions.
Creativity and Diversity

11th International Conference on Daoist Studies
Nanterre, France, May 17-20, 2017
Close to 200 participants from over 20 different countries came together

in Nanterre, an academic suburb of Paris, to discuss a large variety of
topics related to Daoist studies. Keynote speakers were Brigitte Bap-
tandier, Christine Mollier, and Vincent Goossaert, representing the con-
tinued strength and vitality of French sinology. Panels covered many dif-
ferent aspects of the tradition, from philosophy through self-cultivation,
medicine, art, and literature, to anthropological studies. There were nu-

merous practical workshops, several exhibits of art work, fabulous video
presentations—notably Adeline Herrou’s new documentary—a concert
by Peter Firebrace, and—the greatest highlight—a video of and perfor-
mance by the musical troupe of the Li Priests from northern Shanxi, in-
vited and hosted by Stephen Jones. For more details of the program and
to read some of the presentations, see www.daoistconference.info.
—Livia Kohn
Chinese Epitaphs
Seattle, May 19-20, 2017
A workshop on epitaphs in Chinese history was held in Seattle. A total of

13 internationally known China scholars participated. The conference
volume, entitled An Anthology of Chinese Funerary Biographies, edited
by Ping Yao, Patricia Buckley Ebrey, and Ellen Zhang, will be published
by University of Washington Press.
—Ping Yao
Immortal Sisters
August 24-30, Phoenicia, New York
About eighty women came together at Menla, the spectacular Tibetan

Buddhist retreat center in the scenic Catskill mountains in upstate New
York, for five days of exploration, discussion, and experience. Organized
by Sharon Smith, Marie Favorito, Renu Li, and Jamee Culbertson, the
conference brought together Daoist scholars, qigong practitioners, medi-
tation teachers, and feminist activists, including keynote speakers Eve
Ensler and Julia Butterfly Hill. Scheduled fluidly from 7 am to 10 pm,
the meeting provided ample opportunity for leaning, discussion, practice,
and personal interaction. Creativity was encouraged in movement, dance,
singing, and artistic expression; there was always a close connection to
nature as the deer stopped by during qigong sessions; and new infor-
mation and understanding grew as over twenty presenters shared their
vision. For more, see www.immortalsistersconference.com.
—Livia Kohn
Fifth Congress
Societas Medicinae Sinensis
Tutzing, Germany, October 6-8, 2017
Combining Bavarian folk culture, including several musical performanc-

es, and medical research, this meeting convened about 300 participants
and 50 presenters discussing issues of Chinese medicine in the Western
world. While most papers discussed medical issues, there were also sev-
eral sessions on preventative methods and longevity practices, connect-
ing to Daoist cultivation. In particular the panel featuring Li Hechun,
Gudula Linck, Ute Engelhardt, und Patricia Krinninger focused on fun-
damental principles and Daoist ethical values as well as poetry on aging
and nourishing the fetus in conjunction with recent epigenetic insights.
For more details, see www.tcm.edu/kongress/der-kongress/.
—Eva Müller
UPCOMING
Authority versus Authenticity

12th International Conference on Daoist Studies
Beijing, June 1-4, 2018
This year’s theme is the relationship of inner truth in contrast (and con-
flict) with outer circumstances, an issue that pervades Daoist history and
culture, since Daoists highly value naturalness and integrity that often
crosses or even runs in opposition to mainstream values, notions, and
practices—both without and within the religion itself.
Authority versus authenticity plays out in many different dimen-
sions of Daoism. In philosophy, it appears in notions of destiny versus
inner nature, seclusion versus political engagement, individuality versus
conformity, and more. In terms of self-cultivation, it manifests in person-
al inclinations versus the requirements of a particular curriculum or
preferences of a master and finds expression in numerous instances of
innovation and restructuring. Socially, it plays a role whenever a dynas-

tic or major economic change alters the culture and political landscape,
requiring adjustment from the institution and/or efforts at legitimation. It
also manifests in reforms and sectarian division within the religion itself,
giving rise to multiple facets and new developments.
The conference is hosted by Beijing Normal University and will be
free of charge. For details and to register, see www.daoistconference.info.
—Livia Kohn
Other News
Summer School
Beijing Normal University, July 9-13, 2017
As part of their annual teaching program, the School of Philosophy at

Beijing Normal University in conjunction with the Confucius China
Studies Program, organized “A Journey into Chinese Thought and Mod-
ern Civilization” with a core focus on Daoism. Over two weeks, world-
renowned scholars presented lectures on Daoist thought and cultivation,
focusing particularly on Zhuangzi. Presenters included Liu Xiaogan, Qi-
ang Yu, Li Yafei, Zhang Weiwen, and Thomas Michael of BNU, as well
as invited guest lecturers, Friederike Assandri, Livia Kohn, Mark
Csikszentmihalyi, and Dennis Schilling. About fifty students from fifteen
different countries attended—all sponsored and supported by the Con-
fucius Institute—learning a great deal about Chinese thought and culture
while making new friends and expanding their horizons. For more, see
http://philsummer.bnu.edu.cn/.
Daoist Blog
WWW.STEPHENJONES.BLOG is a substantial site that complements the
book and film by Stephen Jones on the Li family Daoists in north Shanxi,
including reflections on various related themes as well as relevant up-
dates. Under the heading “Local Ritual,” it also contains a series of
lengthy article on local Daoist ritual traditions around north Shanxi, He-
bei, and Shaanxi. They are based on previous work, but elaborated here
with maps and many color photos. The photos and playlist are illuminat-
ing in themselves.
—Stephen Jones
Daoist Center in France
The French Daoist Association, under the directorship of Karine Martin,

has opened its new Daoist center, Wuming gong, near Montlucon in cen-
tral France. They hold regular seminars, services, and workshops. For
more details, see http://france-dao.blogspot.com
—Karine Martin
New Commentary Edition

In spring 2018, the boutique publishing house Shuaizhen shuzhai 率真书
斋, located in a small village in the hills outside Beijing, will reissue a
little-known commentary on the Daodejing, called Daodejing jiangyi 道德
经讲义. This commentary was written by the Qing Longmen Daoist and
government archivist, Song Longyuan 宋龙渊 and presented as a gift to
the Kangxi Emperor. It offers line-by-line, character-by-character expla-
nations of Laozi's text from the perspective of an erudite Quanzhen cul-
tivator. The edition is being printed in cooperation with the Three Puri-
ties Palace 三清宫 in Jilin Province, led by abbess Liu Yuanhui 刘圆慧, a
19th generation nun, also of the Longmen lineage. For more, see
http://shop. kongfz.com/48758/.
—Mattias Daly
Workshop with Master Meng

The U.S. Taoist Association is honored to announce that Master Meng
Zhilling 孟至岭, Vice President of the Chinese Daoist Association, will be
returning in July 2018 to teach a 4-day seminar on Daoist meditation and
wisdom in New York City. Open to all inspired to learn about Daoism, it
addresses especially those with a specific interest in developing, or
deepening, their practice. Master Meng is a world-renonwned expert
about Daoism and internal cultivation. He is also president of the largest
Daoist College in China. For more details and pricing, please email Da-
vid Hessler (dhessler@mka.org).
—David Hessler
Contributors
Ron Catabia, M.S., has been studying Sundo, Korean dantian cultivation,
for 29 years, publishing about it variously. A member of the American
Psychological Association, he also presents on Daoism and peace psy-
chology. Email: catabia1942@outlook.com.
Donald D. Davis, Ph.D., is a former professor of psychology and Asian

Studies at Old Dominion University, as well as a teacher of meditation,
taijiquan, and qigong at Tidewater Tai Chi Center in Norfolk and Virgin-
ia Beach. He currently lives in Santa Fe, where he works as a consultant.
Email: dondavisva@gmail.com.
Shih-shan Susan Huang is an Associate Professor of Chinese Art History

at Rice University. She is the author of Picturing the True Form: Daoist
Visual Culture in Traditional China (Harvard University Asia Center, 2012).
Currently she is working on a book manuscript on Chinese Buddhist
woodcuts. Email: sh6@rice.edu.
Gabriele Libera, Ph.D., is Research Associate at Global Law Initiatives for

Sustainable Development. His main areas of research are Classical Chi-
nese philosophy, comparative philosophy and sustainable development.
He is currently working on a book manuscript on Zhuangzi and Existen-
tialism. Email: libera.briele@gmail.com.
Jeffrey Meyer (Ph.D., U. of Chicago, 1973) taught Chinese religions and

culture at the University of North Carolina, Charlotte, for 37 years. He is
now retired and writing fiction. Email: jfmeyer@uncc.edu,
Ilia Mozias obtained his M.A. from the Hebrew University of Jerusalem,
where he is currently a research student writing a Ph.D. dissertation on
the life and teachings of Lu Xixing. E-mail: imozias@gmail.com.
Sharon Y. Small is Ph.D. candidate in the Philosophy Department of Pe-

king University. Her main areas of research are Pre-Qin Chinese philos-
ophy, Early Daoism, and Ancient Chu manuscripts. In addition to her
academic research she is also a translator of modern academic works

from Chinese to English. Email: ssysmall12@gmail.com.
Ashley South, Ph.D., is a researcher, author, and consultant, working on

ethnic conflict and peace processes in Myanmar and Mindanao (Philip-
pines. He is a research fellow at Chiang Mai University, Center for Eth-
nic Studies and Development. For a list of publications see
www.AshleySouth.co.uk. Email: lerdoh3@googlemail.com.
Şerban Toader (Ph.D. in Philology, M.A. in Cultural Anthropology), is a

lecturer at University of Transilvania (Romania) and editor-in-chief at
the Chinese Language Service of Radio Romania International. A co-
founder of the Romanian Association of Daoist Studies (www.daoism.ro),
his studies focus on the Daode jing, lay communities, the social exchange
of gifts, and the notion of rang 讓. Email: serban.toader@daoism.ro
Monk Yunrou, originally Arthur Rosenfeld, is a taiji master currently

based in South Florida. He is the author of numerous novels, screenplays,
and works of non-fiction and teaches Daoist arts globally, specializing in
traditional weapons practice. His newest works are a manifesto of Daoist
ideas and a novel of the Yuan dynasty. Website: www.monkyunrou.com;
email: yunrou@monkyunrou.com
Ekaterina Zavidovskaia, Ph.D., is adjunct assistant professor of Religious

Studies at National Tsing Hua University in Taipei. She is the author of
two books on popular religion in northern China and Taiwan today, as
well as of a number of publications on Chinese popular religion. Email:
katushaza@yahoo.com.

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Facilitators: Livia Kohn, James Miller, Robin Wang

Editorial Board: Robert Allinson, Shawn Arthur, Friederike Assandri, Stephan-

Submissions: To make a submission, please contact us at daojournal@gmail.com.

SHIH-SHAN SUSAN HUANG

Forum on Contemporary Practice

News of the Field

Other News 242

prolonged answers. It begins with the Yellow Emperor (Huangdi 黄帝)

The Yellow Emperor asked the Celestial Master, saying:

The questions asked by the Yellow Emperor are cosmological; he is in-

3I base my understanding of different phrases upon the explanatory notes given

The subject under discussion here is sexual intercourse. It provides

Following these instructions, the woman attains sexual pleasure.

The male, resisting ejaculation, attains longevity and more im-

use is still current—images in Buddhist and Daoist temples are referred

real or immaterial being, such as demons or deities.” In translations of

Based on the context, Wang Bo reads shenming in the Taiyi shengshui

The attachment qi to the meaning of shenming is indeed both innovative

presents shenming as a cosmological concept, an opposite yet comple-

Here shenming is appears as a mysterious function of Dao. More

The plan of Heaven as executed by the three illuminators—the sun rising

Measures, calculations, and regular periodical appearances have similar

the myriad beings.” The Ziran 自然 chapter of the Wenzi 文子 notes,

Chunqiu Zuozhuan 春秋左傳. 1992. Shisan jing 十三經. Zhengzhou: Zhengzhou

Guanzi jiaozhu 管子校注. 2004. Compiled by Li Xiangfeng 黎翔鳳. Beijing: Zhong-

Han Feizi jijie 韓非子集解.1998. Compiled by Wang Xianshen 王先慎. Beijing:

Shangshu jingu wenzhushu 尚書今古文注疏. 1986. Annotated by Sun Xingyan 孫星

Shiwen 十問. 1985. Mawangdui Hanmu Boshu 馬王堆漢墓帛書, Vol. 4. Beijing:

Cao Feng 曹峰. Forthcoming. “Theories of Life Preserving (Yangsheng 养生) in

Li Jianhong 李劍虹. 2011. “Taiyi shengshui shenming Kaoshi” 太一生水神明考釋.

Maspero, H. 1933. “Le Mot Ming.” Journal Asiatique 223:249-96.

Meyer, Dirk. 2008. “Meaning-Construction in Warring States Philosophical Dis-

Xiong Tieji 熊 鐵 劑 .2000. “Dui shenming de lishi laocha—Qianlun Taiyi

Zhang Dainian 張 岱 年 . 1996. “Zhongguo gudian zhexue gainian fanchou

It is common among Chinese scholars to describe the Zhuangzi as “a

plained. Because of this, despite plentiful literature on the subject, 1 there

school of thought so concerned with fighting the entification of the self.

ings directly addressing Sartre sometimes rely on faulty understandings

The Equivalence of Different “Me”

That Ziqi’s story opens the chapter is no coincidence. Its structure,

4 This translation of the two characters is specific to this passage. It is by no

philosophical foundations to finally answer the question asked at its very

gardener mentions having “a machine heart in your breast.”

sciousness is empty and has no qualms about shedding its temporary

The Emptiness of the Ego

Although the passage uses the character wu 吾, clearly it is referring

but as for me, I have disappeared, I have annihilated myself. There is no

This passage illustrates non-positional consciousness and the

Since consciousness limits and shapes the way I perceive things,

9 “The Ego is an object apprehended but also constituted by reflective knowledge.

external things it cannot be immediately and comprehensively known,

Loss of Me Is Not Absence of Me

12We should note that from a phenomenological perspective a person’s experi-

A monkey trainer was distributing chestnuts. He said, “I will give you

Without a “me,” how can there be a person? If value judgments re-

15 The nature of the relationship between value judgments, consciousness and

itself; it is consubstantial with it—a to such a degree that there is no conscious-

Regardless of the order of ego and values, people can never be

Changing Me Without Regret

something reached after getting rid of our dispositions. Because of this

Cooper, David E. 1999. Existentialism: A Reconstruction. Malden, Mass.: Blackwell.

Fukunaga Mitsuji 福永光司. 1968. Zhuangzi: Gudai Zhongguo de cunzaizhuyi 庄子:

_____. 1988 [1927]. The Basic Problems of Phenomenology. Translated by A. Hof-

Xiong Tieji 熊鐵劑 .2000. “Dui shenming de lishi laocha—Qianlun Taiyi

Zhang Dainian 張岱年 . 1996. “Zhongguo gudian zhexue gainian fanchou

Liaoning sheng bowuguan 遼寧省博物館, ed. 2015. Guancang zhongguo lidai