영성, 몸-마음, 젠더, 생태, 평화 Scapbook: Komjathy. Daoist Tradition: 14. Material Culture

2023/08/12

Komjathy. Daoist Tradition: 14. Material Culture

Komjathy, Daoist Tradition:

An Introduction 2013
by Louis Komjathy

Table of Contents

Part 1: Historical Overview

1. Approaching Daoism

2. The Daoist Tradition

Part 2: The Daoist Worldview

3. Ways to Affiliation

4. Community and Social Organization

5. Informing Views and Foundational Concerns

6. Cosmogony, Cosmology, and Theology

7. Virtue, Ethics and Conduct Guidelines

Part 3: Daoist Practice

8. Dietetics

9. Health and Longevity Practice

10. Meditation

11. Scriptures and Scripture Study

12. Ritual

Part 4: Place, Sacred Space and Material Culture

13. Temples and Sacred Sites

14. Material Culture

Part 5: Daoism in the Modern World

15. Daoism in the Modern World

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14 Material culture

Material culture refers to the objects and material expressions related to specific cultures and traditions. In the case of religious traditions, material culture brings our attention to the material and physical dimensions of daily life and religiosity. It includes architecture, artifacts, clothing, devotional and liturgical objects, painting, sculpture, and so forth. Although one may focus on the actual materiality of specific objects (e.g. materials, design, styles), it is also important to consider their history, symbolism, and functions. In particular, although much religious material culture is encountered as artifact and museum piece (see Chapter 1), we need to be attentive to such objects as the expressions of specific communities and as utilized by specific individuals in specific activities. This is the living dimension of religious materiality.

Daoist material culture is complex and multifaceted. It relates to traditional Chinese and Daoist aesthetics as well as Chinese cultural traditions. With respect to the former, there is a strong emphasis on refinement and subtlety in traditional Daoist material culture. This extends to an appreciation of landscape and attentiveness to space, especially open and harmonious space. Aesthetics and material culture are key dimensions of Daoist culture. They inform Daoist practice and being. As discussed in other chapters of the present book, there is a strong emphasis on embodiment and physicality in the Daoist tradition. One might go so far as to say that Daoist adherence without Daoist aesthetics, community, culture, and place is only fragmentarily so. The intersection among these dimensions of the Daoist tradition occurs in Daoist temples and sacred sites. Here one gains a glimpse of Daoism as an intact culture and as a form of embodied and lived religiosity.

1] Artistic expression

Historically speaking and on the most fundamental level, Daoist artistic expression and material culture are rooted in traditional Chinese cultural pursuits, including bronze casting, calligraphy, dance, inscription, literature, music, painting, poetry, pottery, sculpture, seal carving, and theatre. Here a few words are in order concerning the category of “Daoist art” (see also Little 2000b). Should this term be used to designate art produced by Daoists and in Daoist contexts? Does it need to have Daoist content? If a painting (or poem, novel, play, etc.) created by a “non-Daoist” contains Daoist content, is it Daoist? Following my seemingly simple definition of “Daoist” as anything associated with the religious tradition (see Chapters 1, 3, 5, and 16), we might take a more restrictive approach and say that Daoist art is art produced by Daoists or in a Daoist context. However, what if a modern Daoist is an abstract photographer? Is such photography “Daoist photography”? Is any art produced by Daoists “Daoist art”? As discussed below, the easiest response is to emphasize “Daoist liturgical art” and “Daoist temple art,” but this approach neglects a great deal of fascinating material. In a larger frame of reference, we might say that “Daoist art” refers, first and foremost, to art created or commissioned by Daoists as well as art utilized in Daoist religious communities and contexts. “Art influenced by Daoism” encompasses art that employs Daoist themes or that was inspired by the Daoist tradition. Like other distinctions utilized in the present book, we must recognize “Daoist artists” and “artists with Daoistic concerns.” This parallels the distinction between Daoist adherents and Daoist sympathizers (see Chapters 1, 3, and 16).

There is a great deal of Daoist-inspired art. In addition to a variety of paintings depicting various key Daoists, such as Laozi, Zhuangzi, Zhang Daoling, Tao Hongjing, Lü Dongbin, Qiu Chuji, Wang Changyue, and so forth, there are obviously many paintings and statues depicting Daoist gods, sacred realms, and sacred sites. Most of these artistic expressions fall under the category of Daoist liturgical or temple art, even though they are contained in private and museum collections (see Little 1988, 2000a).

Unfortunately, at the present moment, little if any research has been done on pre-modern Daoist painters or the history of the Daoist commission of art.

There are also many examples of Daoist art, or art produced by Daoists and associated with the Daoist tradition. In terms of calligraphy, it is clear from simple historical and cultural familiarity that many Daoists wrote calligraphy. Unfortunately, we do not know to what extent they were advanced calligraphers or wrote calligraphy as “art practice.” One clear example is the calligraphy of Yang Xi (330–86) and the Xu family (see Chapters 2 and 12), which is no longer extant. According to Tao Hongjing (456–536), who later collected the original Shangqing manuscripts, the calligraphy of Yang Xi and the Xu family was extraordinary, perhaps divine and infused with numinosity (ling). This point draws our attention to the material and “non-material” (subtle) dimensions of Daoist material culture in general and texts in particular. In terms of extant Daoist calligraphy, one of the most significant is Wang Xizhi’s (307–65) rendering of the Huangting jing (Scripture on the Yellow Court; DZ 331; DZ 332) (see Little 2000a: 338–9). Wang Xizhi is regarded as one of the greatest early Chinese calligraphers. He belonged to a Tianshi family, engaged in Daoist selfcultivation, was a close associate of the Xu family and the early Shangqing community, and had a deep interest in Huang-Lao (see Chapter 2). On a more general level, we should acknowledge the various anonymous calligraphers who brushed Daoist manuscripts such as those contained in archaeological finds such as Mawangdui (ca. 168 BCE; Changsha, Hunan; Hunan Provincial Museum) and Dunhuang (ca. 8th c.; Dunhuang, Gansu; British Library; Bibliothèque Nationale de France) (see Little 2000a: 38, 118–20, 172–3). In a more modern context, many Quanzhen monastics practice calligraphy, and one finds examples of the late Min Zhiting’s (Yuxi [Jade Stream]; 1924–2004) calligraphy on temple boards throughout China. Here we should also recognize the importance of calligraphy in Daoist ritual (see Chapter 13). Finally, there are many highly skilled contemporary calligraphers who write lines or passages from famous Daoist texts, with the Daode jing being especially popular. Another favorite Daoist character-set is xianfeng daogu 仙風道骨 (“immortal currents and bones of the Dao”), which refers to immortality and numinous presence.

Although often associated with “Chinese landscape poetry” and famous poets such Tao Qian (Yuanming [Profound Illumination]; 365–427), Wang Wei (699–761), Du Fu (712–70), and Bo Juyi (772–846), Daoist poetry is more than pastoral or eremitic. Of the more famous poets in Chinese history, there is some preliminary evidence that Li Bo (Li Bai; 701–62) received Daoist initiation from Sima Chengzhen (647–735) (Robinet 2000, 199). Wu Yun (d. 778) was probably the most famous Daoist poet in Chinese history (see De Meyer 2006). He was ordained in the 720s on Songshan by a disciple of Pan Shizheng (585–682) (Kohn and Kirkland 2000: 348), the 11th Shangqing Patriarch and leading disciple of Wang Yuanzhi (528–635). Wu Yun is known for his ecstatic poetry, such as “Cantos on Pacing the Void” and “Saunters in Sylphdom” (see Schafer 1981, 1983). In Edward Schafer’s idiosyncratic and imaginative translation, the former begins with a description of the Daoist sacred realms.

CANTOS ON PACING THE VOID

The host of transcendents looks up to the Numinous Template. Dignified equipages—to the Levee of the Divine Genitor. V Golden phosphors shed asterial light on them.

By a long, circuitous route, they ascend to the Grand Hollow.

The Seven Occults have already flown high.

Refinement by fire is engendered in the Vermilion Palace.

The surplus of felicity extends from sky to loam.

Tranquility and harmony infuse the Kingly Way.

The Eight Daunters clarify the roving pneumas.

The Ten Distinctions dance in the auspicious winds.

They permit me to scale the font of yang.

This comes from my yin achievement.

Footloose and fancy-free—above the Grand Aurora. (Schafer 1981: 393–6)

Wu Yun’s poetry arguably compares favorably with Chinese poetry as literature. Perhaps less noteworthy on a literary level is the large amount of Daoist religious and devotional poetry, little of which has been translated to date. There is a large amount of neidan poetry from the Song dynasty, with the Wuzhen pian (Treatise on Awakening to Perfection; DZ 263, j. 26–30) by Zhang Boduan (d. 1082) being especially influential. There are also major anthologies associated with most of the first-generation Quanzhen adherents. In combination with discourse records (yulu), poetry was the primary form of literary expression within the early Quanzhen community (see Komjathy 2007a, forthcoming).

Music has also occupied a central place in the Daoist tradition. In addition to “liturgical music” (see below), zither (qin) music has been especially revered among Daoists. Sometimes translated as “lute,” the qinzither is an ancient Chinese “silk” (“string”) instrument (see van Gulik 1969). It consists of seven strings arranged horizontally on a wood bridge. The strings are plucked using the fingers of one hand while the other hand slides across the strings. One of the most famous stories related to zither music, self-cultivation, and friendship appears in the Lüshi chunqiu (Spring and Autumn Annals of Master Lü).

THE MUSIC OF MOUNTAINS AND STREAMS

Whenever Bo Ya played the qin, Zhong Ziqi would listen to him. Once when he was playing, his thoughts turned to Taishan (Mount Tai). Zhong Ziqi said, “How splendidly you play the qin! Lofty and majestic like Taishan.” A short time later, when his thoughts turned to flowing waters, Zhong Ziqi said, “How splendidly you play the qin! Rolling and swirling like flowing water.” When Zhong Ziqi died, Bo Ya smashed his qin and cut its strings. To the end of his life he never played again because he felt that no one was worthy to hear his playing. (Lüshi chunqiu, Chapter 14; adapted from Knoblock and Riegel 2000: 308; see also Huainanzi, Chapters 16 and 19; Major et al. 2010:

626, 784–5; Liezi, Chapter 5; Graham 1990: 109–10)

In the Daoist tradition, this story is most often read in terms of affinity and spiritual friendship (see also Zhuangzi, Chapter 6; Lijiao shiwu lun, DZ 1233, 3a), with Daoist spiritual companions and intimate fellow religious often referred to as “Companions of the Way” (daoban; daoyou). The zither pieces “Gaoshan” (High Mountains) and “Liushui” (Flowing Waters) are associated with Bo Ya. Other major qin-zither pieces associated with Daoism include “Xiaoyao you” (Carefree Wandering), “Yuhua dengxian” (Ascending to Immortality through Winged Transformation), and “Zhuang Zhou mengdie” (Zhuang Zhou Dreaming of a Butterfly). Most of these qinzither pieces appear to have been composed during the late imperial period. Some legendary famous Daoist qin-zither players include Ji Kang (Xi Kang; 223–62), Tao Hongjing (456–536), and Sima Chengzhen (647–735).

As mentioned, in the modern world, the attempt to identify “Daoist art” and “Daoist artists” becomes more complex. Although some individuals are beginning to self-identify as “Daoist artists” or to be identified as such by non-specialist historians, there is a great deal of perplexity. This derives from the misidentification of Chinese landscape painting as Daoist as well as of certain themes or tendencies, such as yin-yang, effortlessness, spontaneity, and so forth, as Daoist. In order to speak of modern Daoist art or Daoistinspired art, one must actually understand the Daoist tradition and identify Daoist elements of the art. Here I will provide two interesting contemporary

American examples: Wu Jing-nuan’s (1933–2002) abstract paintings, and Juan Li’s (b. 1946) practice diagrams. Associated with the Taoist Health Institute (Washington, D.C.), Wu Jing-nuan was a Chinese immigrant and self-identified Daoist, practitioner of Chinese medicine, and abstract painter. In addition to publishing translations of the Huangdi neijing lingshu (Yellow Thearch’s Inner Classic: Numinous Pivot) and Yijing (Classic of Changes), Wu created a variety of abstract paintings inspired by Daoist and Chinese medical themes. These include “The Healing Cure,” “The Eight Treasures,”

“Three Cinnabar Fields,” “Trigram of Heaven,” and so forth (see www.wushealingart.com). Wu’s “Blue Mountains and Dragons” depicts a semi-abstract landscape consisting of a series of blue mountains beneath a tan-white sky and copper-colored sun. Observant readers will recall the importance of mountains in Daoism and note the Gen-mountain trigram in the upper right-hand corner on the painting below.

Along a different trajectory, Juan Li is a Cuban immigrant who executed a variety of practice diagrams for early Healing Tao, a syncretic Qigong movement originally associated with Mantak Chia (b. 1944) and now split into Healing Tao USA (Healing Dao) and Universal Healing Tao (a.k.a. Universal Tao; Thailand) (see Chapter 16). Originally a collaborator with Chia and now associated with White Cloud Institute (Phoenix, Arizona) and an American syncretic group called I Ching Dao, Juan Li was the primary artist for a variety of diagrams depicting Healing Tao practices. These include “Inner Smile,” “Fusion of the Five Elements,” “Functional Channel,” “Governor Channel,” as well as other neidan-related views and practices (see Chapters 7 and 11). Li’s depictions were used on Chia’s book covers and mass-produced in poster form (see www.healing-tao.com). Although these depictions are clearly syncretic, evidencing the influence of Indian, especially Tantric and Yogic, iconography, they do contain some Daoist content regarding views of self and practices related to internal alchemy.

FIGURE 22 “Blue Mountains and Dragons” (1994; mixed media) by Wu

Jing-nuan

Source: Wu’s Healing Art

2] Scriptures and manuscripts

As discussed in previous chapters, texts are centrally important in the Daoist tradition. While Daoist texts tend to be encountered in the modern world in mass-produced publications or electronic editions, we need to recognize the ways in which texts are part of Daoist material culture. Historically speaking, Daoist texts, and specifically “scriptures” (jing; see Chapter 12), have primarily been hand-written in classical Chinese using calligraphy (ink and brush usually on paper). This point draws our attention to the corporeal and material dimensions of Daoist texts. It also highlights the ways in which our access to Daoist texts is indebted to the Daoist tradition, and the multiple sources of Daoist texts. The latter includes specific revelations, teachers, communities, as well as language. Daoist texts have also occupied a central place in ordination and transmission (see Chapters 3 and 13). As will be discussed shortly, there is a history of material culture behind the modern encounter with Daoist literature.

The earliest Daoist texts originally were not texts. While Daoists might take this to refer to the “non-material” cosmic ethers or “celestial versions” of Daoist scriptures (see Chapter 12), it rather points toward their material history, specifically the oral dimension. The earliest texts appear to have been oral teachings and transmissions (see Chapter 3), especially in the form of mnemonic aphorisms, which were eventually compiled into texts such as the Laozi (Book of Venerable Masters), which is honorifically titled the Daode jing (Scripture on the Dao and Inner Power). The earliest surviving Daoist texts are, in turn, multi-vocal anthologies, or “sayings collages” (Lau 1963; LaFargue 1992). They were transcribed on bamboo and silk. Thus, we have the so-called “Bamboo Laozi,” from Guodian (ca. 300 BCE; see Henricks 2000), and the early “silk manuscripts,” especially from Mawangdui (ca. 168 BCE; see Henricks 1989; Harper 1998). The existence of these materials suggests that there was a community committed to preserving and transmitting specific teachings and practices, and specific texts. In terms of material culture, the earliest Daoist texts were written either on bamboo slips or sheets of silk (see Tsien 2004, 96–144). Bamboo and silk manuscripts were, in turn, transmitted through specific teachers and communities in the form of hand-written copies, whether written by the teacher, disciple, or a scribe. Here one may recognize the rarity of such texts, and the importance of access to specific teachers. One’s acceptance into and affiliation with a specific community partially involved textual transmission (see Chapters 4, 12, and 13).

Hand-written manuscripts on paper eventually replaced other materials. The earliest examples of paper seem to derive from the Early Han dynasty, and specifically from the first century BCE, but its invention is traditionally dated to the first century CE and ascribed to Cai Lun (50?–121 CE). Early Chinese paper was hand-woven using various materials, including silk rags, hemp fibers, mulberry bark, worn-out fishing nets, and a variety of natural materials. The highest quality materials for early paper included plant fibers such as hemp, jute, flax, ramie, and rattan; tree bark of mulberry; grasses, such as bamboo, reeds, and stalks of rice and wheat; and other fibers (Tsien 2004: 161). These details draw our attention to both the actual material dimensions of paper, including the fact that actual plants and trees are required, and the history of paper-making. Although beyond the scope of the present book, we should also consider the history of ink-making, of book collecting, as well as of book publishing and selling (see, e.g. Twitchett 1983: 17–18).

While papermaking and the use of paper for books began in the Early Han dynasty, it was not until about two hundred years later that paper became the primary material used for books. It gradually supplanted the use of bamboo and wood tablets and partially that of silk (Tsien 2004: 150). Traditional Chinese books eventually consisted of various forms, including string-bound (“stab/stitch-bound”) folios, paper or silk rolled scrolls, as well as folded or accordion-style editions. The latter type is used for Daoist liturgical texts. For present purposes, these details suggest that for about the first one thousand years of Daoist history, Daoist books were relatively rare and existed mainly in hand-written and transmitted silk and paper manuscripts. As the early Shangqing and Lingbao movements suggest, these manuscripts were usually in the possession and under the control of specific Daoist families, such as the Xu and Tao as well as Ge and Lu, respectively (see also Chapters 1 and 3). Textual transmission and the possession of texts were thus an intricate part of early Daoist affiliation and ordination (see Chapters 3, 12, and 13). We also know that there were imperial editions of Buddhist and Daoist texts in general circulation that were brushed by official scribes.

In terms of textual dissemination, a major development occurred in the Tang dynasty, namely, the emergence of wood-block printing and the production of wood-block editions. These are the earliest examples of “printing,” which is a process of reproduction with ink on paper or other surfaces from a reverse or negative image. On a material culture level, it contains at least three essential elements: a flat surface, originally cut in relief, containing a mirror image of whatever is to be printed; the preparation of the mirror image; and the transfer of the impression of this image on to the surface to be printed (Tsien 1985: 132–3). In the case of wood-block printing, hand-written calligraphy must be carved on wood-blocks, which are then dipped in ink and pressed on paper.

Following the great diffusion of Buddhism during the Sui and Tang, the demand for mass production of Buddhist literature became the motivating force behind the invention of printing. Although there are Tang-dynasty examples of wood-block printing, with that of the Confucian canon (dat. 952) being particularly important (Twitchett 1983, 31), printing became a fully developed and advanced art during the Song dynasty. During this time, the Buddhist Canon was first printed (dat. 983), followed by the Daoist Canon (dat. 1019) (Tsien 1985: 159; Twitchett 1983: 34–42; see also Chapter 12 herein). The former required approximately 130,000 blocks and occupied 130 bays of a special storehouse (Twitchett 1983: 35), while the second printed edition of the latter (dat. 1191) required approximately 83,000 blocks (ibid.: 38). Wood-block printing in turn became the standard printing method from the late medieval to late imperial period. In terms of material culture, these details draw our attention to a number of elements related to Daoist editions. First, as discussed in Chapter 12, the collection of Daoist texts and their preparation for printing was accomplished by Daoists. It required dedication and actual physical labor. Second, the writing of the calligraphy for and engraving of the printing-blocks required enormous amounts of work on the part of many anonymous artisans and craftsmen— think of the number of lives, bodies, and hands as well as places involved. Third, the wood-block printed editions were disseminated to various Daoist temples and monasteries. There they had to be stored and preserved. In terms of the existence of Daoist texts, wood-block printing was also pivotal for Daoist book production and textual dissemination.

Two additional points need to be made. While wood-block printing was used for large-scale projects, such as the Daoist Canon, and for producing popular editions for general circulation, the tradition of Daoist manuscripts did not cease. Books were still hand-written in calligraphy. For example, the early Quanzhen works were hand-copied manuscripts circulated among Quanzhen adherents and communities. Many of these writings were eventually included into the Daoist Canon, but many more were lost (see Komjathy 2007a). In subsequent historical periods, there was thus a received set of “canonical” writings, those contained in the Daoist Canon, and new Daoist textual traditions, some of which were eventually included in the collection and others of which were not. In this respect we may profitably utilize the categories of the catalogue of the Ming-dynasty Daoist Canon (Schipper and Verellen 2004), wherein a distinction is made between “texts in general circulation” and “texts in internal circulation” (see Chapter 12 herein). Some of these have been collected in “supplemental” and “extracanonical” collections (see Komjathy 2002; also Chapter 12 herein). However, there are various private and family collections of manuscripts, and many secret texts not available for non-initiates. Contemporary Zhengyi communities are especially noteworthy for their esoteric traditions of textual transmission. Some evidence of this is contained in the Zhuang-Lin xu daozang (Supplement to the Daoist Canon from the Zhuang and Lin Families; dat. 1975; 25 vols.), which was collected by Michael Saso.

The second point is that the use of wood-block printing continued into the early twentieth century. Although there were personal collections of manuscripts, our access to the Ming-dynasty Daoist Canon (see Chapter 12), the primary source for Daoist Studies, is solely dependent on the existence of a single wood-block edition. The Ming-dynasty Daoist Canon was printed in 1445, with a supplement printed in 1607. The original plates were eventually destroyed. The various Daoists who inhabited Baiyun guan (White Cloud Monastery; Beijing) during the Ming, Qing, and early Republican period preserved and protected the collection. It was only “rediscovered” in the early twentieth century, and subsequently became the basis of modern editions and modern Daoist Studies. If not for the lives of countless Daoists and the living community of the Daoist tradition, our understanding of pre-modern Daoism would have been severely limited and impoverished. Also noteworthy in this respect is the existence of the original metal plates for the Daozang jiyao (Collected Essentials of the Daoist Canon), which are housed in Qingyang gong (Azure Ram Palace; Chengdu, Sichuan).

Thus the history of Daoist texts is connected to the history of Chinese culture and society in general and to the Daoist tradition in particular. The continued existence of Daoist texts is literally evidence of the Daoist tradition as such, and of the dedication of Daoists and Daoist communities. Moreover, from a Daoist perspective, they are storehouses of the Dao (see Chapter 12), one of the external Three Treasures of the Daoist tradition. The opportunity to read translations of Daoist texts written in classical Chinese is indebted, at least on some level, to Daoists.

3] Clothing and vestments

Traditionally speaking, Daoists wear particular types of clothing that indicate adherence, affiliation, and participation in Daoist community and tradition. Traditional Daoist dress is connected with pre-modern Chinese clothing and styles of attire. At present, very little research has been done on the history, styles, functions, and symbolism of traditional Daoist clothing, especially before the Tang dynasty. We do, however, have some knowledge related to the late medieval period (see Kohn 2003a: 147–59; 2004b; 2004c: 91–3), late imperial period (see Kohn 2004c; Komjathy 2007b), and contemporary period (see Lagerwey 1987: 291–2; Schipper 1993: 69–71, 95–9; Yin 2005: 44–7; Komjathy 2007b). There is also some specific information on Daoist liturgical vestments (Wilson 1995; Little 2000a: 195– 9). In the contemporary period, Zhengyi priests as well as Daoists outside of mainland China tend to wear Western dress in their daily lives. Traditionbased Daoists will often don traditional robes and liturgical vestments for more formal religious and ritual occasions.

In contrast, Quanzhen monastics in mainland China wear traditional Daoist robes in their daily lives. Technically speaking, only ordained Daoist priests and initiates may wear Daoist robes, although this has changed in the modern world wherein many self-identified Daoists wear Daoist dress as a source of identity, authority, and spiritual legitimation. Here I will concentrate on traditional Daoist religious attire, knowledge of which comes from my ethnographic fieldwork and participant-observation in contemporary Quanzhen monastic communities.

In contemporary Quanzhen monastic communities, monks and nuns wear a standardized and uniform set of vestments. In daily life, this most often includes black cloth shoes with rubber soles, knee-high white socks, a plain (i.e., undecorated) dark blue robe, dark blue or black pants, a topknot (faji ) with wooden hairpin (zanzi ), and some type of kerchief or cap. In the summer, many monks and nuns choose to wear white robes in order to stave off the heat. The standard robe, referred to as the “robe of the Dao” (daoyi ), parallels the late imperial one with a diagonally folded design—that is, the right, inside portion of the robe comes diagonally across the body to the left, while the left, outside portion goes over the right portion, diagonally to the right. This robe is usually made out of cotton or hemp. The sleeves, referred to as “cloud sleeves,” are fairly wide and open at the ends, and in length usually extend just past one’s hand with fingers extended, though they can be much longer. Contemporary robes are most often bound together with inner ties and Velcro. In less formal contexts, contemporary Quanzhen monastics also wear robes with a vertical cut down the center, which resembles Chinese martial arts clothing bound with small square-knots that go through loops. The standard distinction in daily religious dress centers on the “decorous garment” (lifu) and the “convenient garment” (bianfu). The former is a long, dark blue robe that hangs to anywhere from the lower calf to ankle. The latter is a shorter version that hangs to just above the knees. Both follow the standard diagonal pattern. The convenient garment is so named because of the freedom of movement that it allows; it is the garment of choice for traveling to other temples and monasteries or for pilgrimage, “mountain hopping,” and “cloud wandering.”

Like their medieval and late imperial counterparts, contemporary Quanzhen monastics bind their long hair in topknots with hairpins and wear various styles of “kerchiefs” or caps (jin), with the Hunyuan (Chaos Prime), a hard-rimmed round hat, being most common (see Komjathy 2007b). Topknots can be formed in a number of ways, which often vary from monastery to monastery and which one learns from one’s teacher (shifu) or “Companions of the Way” (daoyou). Hairpins are usually made of wood, especially Boxwood and Peachtree wood, and it is rare to see bone or horn, most likely because of the Quanzhen commitment to vegetarianism and nonharm. Preferred shapes for the decorative head of the hairpin include lotus pods, lotus blossoms, dragons, and phoenixes.

There are also robes that have more restricted uses. These robes are usually made out of silk. When receiving initiation (rumen; shoujie) into the Longmen lineage of Quanzhen, initiates wear “preceptor robes” (jieyi ). These are square-cut robes that are yellow in color with black borders. The preceptor robe has wide, open sleeves, and the entire garment hangs down to between the lower calf and ankle. Technically speaking, only those members of the Quanzhen monastic order who have gone through a formal Longmen ordination ceremony are permitted to wear these robes. This type of contemporary ordination usually involves the transmission of the previously mentioned Chuzhen jie, Zhongji jie, and Tianxian jie (see Chapter 8), although the extent to which these texts are actually read and applied requires further research. The highly organized, formal Longmen ordination ceremony stands in contrast to individual or master-disciple ordinations (chuandao); these vary from teacher to teacher and community to community (see Chapter 13).

When performing rituals or overseeing liturgical services, contemporary Quanzhen Daoist priests (daoshi ) wear “liturgical vestments” (fayi ), also referred to as the “wrapping of the Dao” (daopao).

FIGURE 23 Traditional Robe Associated with the Longmen Celestial Immortal Rank

Source: Chuzhen jie, ZW 404

There are two main types of ritual garments and liturgical vestments used by Daoist ritual experts. The basic robe, usually worn by cantors and ritual assistants when chanting the morning and evening liturgy, has the same design and cut as the preceptor robe, but it is red in color with black borders. In contrast to the other forms of Daoist dress, the more formal liturgical vestment is a multicolored and ornate garment. It too is cut in the standard ritual pattern, with the lower hem of the garment hanging to between the lower calf and ankle. The primary color of this liturgical vestment varies: red, yellow, and purple are most common, but I have also seen turquoise and orange. These robes are traditionally hand-embroidered with a variety of symbols and images. Among contemporary versions, the distinguishing features include swirling gold clouds, the Eight Trigrams, the Three Purities (sanqing) and/or Three Heavens (santian), and Luotian (Canopy Heaven) located at the center of the back. Other noteworthy graphic features include the sun and moon, pagodas, as well as dragons, cranes, and unicorns.

In terms of medieval and late imperial vestments, there are both continuities and departures in contemporary Daoist dress. First, paralleling their Daoist monastic predecessors, contemporary Quanzhen monks and nuns generally treat their religious garments with respect and care. Monastic protocol (and sometimes bureaucratic surveillance) requires one to keep robes clean and orderly. Contemporary Quanzhen liturgical vestments also express ordination ranks: only Longmen initiates are permitted to wear the preceptor robe, and only those with liturgical training may don the ritual robe.

While each and every dimension of traditional Daoist dress has symbolic associations, here we must be content to examine two representative examples. The symbolic center of the contemporary Daoist monastic’s textile universe is the robe of the Dao. As mentioned, this garment is dark blue in color with long sleeves that have wide openings. The sleeves are associated with the garments of immortals and Perfected; they have a flowing and billowy quality that lends an air of ethereality and obscurity. The color is conventionally described as qing (“azure”), the color of the Wood phase and thus having the correspondences of east, spring, morning, and so forth. Under this reading, it also has various other correlative associations, namely, the liver/gall bladder, youth, birth/new growth, smooth flow of qi, and so forth (see Chapter 6). However, the color is technically huilan (“dusty indigo”), and a more esoteric description identifies the color as xuan 玄, which may be translated as “dark” or “black” as a color but which also refers to “mysterious” when related to the Dao. One Daoist etymological reading of the character is a skein of silk dipped in indigo dye.

The locus classicus for this color/quality is Chapter 1 of the Daode jing: “Mysterious and again more mysterious/The gateway to all that is wondrous.” That is, xuan is the colorless color of the Dao; the ordained Daoist who puts on this color, the dark blue of his or her daily robes, becomes clothed in the Dao. One becomes enfolded by the Dao’s darkness, subtlety and mysteriousness. This is the darkness that takes in everything.

More refined and well-made robes of the Dao also have specific seam patterns. The sleeves are divided into two sections, while the torso section is divided at the shoulders. Similarly, the collar has three sections. Three, as a yang number, is one of the primarily significant numbers in the Daoist tradition, perhaps only second in importance to the number nine (3x3). The trifold pattern of daily vestments in turn has an almost infinite number of correspondences, including the Three Essentials (sanyao), Three Fields (santian), Three Treasures (sanbao), Three Passes (sanguan), Three Purities (sanqing), Three Heavens (santian), and so forth (see Chapters 5–7 herein). For Daoists who are aware of and contemplate these associations, donning religious garb situates them in a specific cosmos and reminds them of the vigilance required for alchemical praxis and transformation. Robes of the Dao display the ordained and tradition-based Daoist’s standing in a particular religious community, which includes access to, communication with, and participation in the purest emanations of the Dao and the highest celestial realms. At the same time, daily vestments focus the practitioner’s attention on preserving energetic integrity, activating subtle dimensions of self, awakening latent spiritual capacities, and advancing the process of alchemical transformation.

With respect to the liturgical vestments, the contemporary Quanzhen ritual robe contains a variety of symbolic designs, which have multiple layers of meaning. On the most basic level, these ornamental features reveal the Daoist priest’s access to the Daoist sacred realms as well as his standing in the celestial community. Whether on the liturgical vestment or on the liturgical carpet, the Eight Trigrams, associated with the eight directions, represent the extending influence of the officiant’s ritual power and efficacy. This may be thought of as the “horizontal plane” of ritual activity. On the “vertical plane,” the Luotian heaven on the back of the ritual garment represents the Daoist priest’s communication with the most accessible, highest sacred realm. The Luotian heaven is the Daoist heaven “below” the

Three Heavens. It is the residence of the Jade Emperor, the cosmocrat paralleling the terrestrial emperor in governing function (see Chapter 6). Also part of the popular Chinese pantheon, here the Jade Emperor is located at the highest level of the pantheon, and he is the highest deity who receives petitions and requests from Daoist priests.

Liturical art and ritual implements

In terms of material culture, one of the most straightforward ways of identifying “Daoist art” is to concentrate on “liturgical art” and ritual implements, that is, to focus on elements of material culture utilized by Daoists in ritual contexts. With respect to liturgical art, the most common forms are paintings and statues depicting Daoist gods and immortals (see Chapters 6 and 13). In Daoist temples and ritual contexts, they are arranged in specific ways, which relate to altar configuration and sacred space (see Chapters 13 and 14). Beautiful and refined examples of Daoist liturgical art may be found throughout the pages of Taoism and the Arts of China (Little 2000a). While some Daoist temples, especially Baiyun guan (White Cloud Monastery; Beijing), still have Daoist collections, most examples of finely executed Daoist liturgical art were removed from China at various periods, but especially in the context of colonialism in late imperial China. Much of this “art” is housed in private and museum collections in Europe, Japan, and North America.

The most common and important Daoist ritual implements (faqi ) include the following: (1) Audience or announcement tablet (ban; hu; jian), with chao (“audience”) often preceding these characters; (2) Command placard (lingpai ); (3) Prayer-bell or bowl (qing; zhong); (4) Ritual ruler (fachi ); (5) Ritual seal (fayin); (6) Seven-star sword (qixing jian); and (7) Wooden fishdrum (muyu) (see also Asano 2008a). With the exception of the metal prayer-bell and sword, most of the primary ritual implements of modern Daoists are made of wood, especially of Peachtree wood, which is associated with exorcistic qualities. The audience tablet is a long slender tablet held by the head officiant during ritual. Modeled on Chinese court tablets, it indicates the authority of the officiant and his or her access to the Daoist deities and sacred realms. The command placard, also known as the Five Thunder Command Placard (wulei lingpai ), is a long and narrow wooden slat, rounded at the top and flat on the bottom. Modeled on imperial tallies or talisman (fu) given to officials by the emperor, this implement is used by the officiant when giving orders to the celestial officers and generals. It is also used for dispersing demons and ghosts, especially in Daoist space clearing rites (see Chapter 13). Modern versions often include the esoteric names of the Three Purities, specific constellations, and esoteric characters believed to have spiritual power. The ritual ruler is a long square piece of wood. It is most often used in exorcism, with officiants using it to “write” characters before the altar. The ritual ruler often contains the name of specific gods, the sun and moon, twenty-eight lunar lodges, and so forth. The ritual seal is a square seal used for stamping documents during ritual. It is a sign of the officiant’s authority and invests the document with spiritual power. Like the audience tablet and command placard, the ritual seal is modeled on Chinese court ritual with its related objects, functions, and symbolism. Engraved with the pattern of the Northern Dipper, the seven-star sword is another exorcistic tool. Finally, the prayer-bell, or “chime,” and the wooden fish-drum, both of which include strikers made of wood and covered with rubber, are the two primary musical instruments used in Daoist ritual. The former is struck as a form of petition, while the latter is struck in a rhythmic pattern to guide chanting (see Chapter 13). The wooden fish-drum is also used at the beginning of Daoist meditation, when it is struck three times. It is said to correspond to the sound of thoughts and emotions disappearing in meditation, into stillness and emptiness. The prayer-bell is used in both meditation and daily temple offerings, and is struck three times at the end of meditation. It is said to correspond to the quality of consciousness after meditation, specifically as characterized by expansiveness, clarity, resonance, and so forth. The prayer-bell is also rung when making offerings, especially of incense. In contemporary Quanzhen temples, it is—at least ideally—rung by the altar attendant during each of an individual’s three prostrations before the altar.

Architecture and temple layout

Daoist temple architecture is largely based on the traditional Chinese architecture. The earliest temple-like structures appear to have been built by the early Tianshi community, and the first Daoist monastery, Louguan (Lookout Tower Monastery; Zhouzhi, Shaanxi), appeared in the fifth century (see Chapter 14). The earliest extant Daoist buildings date from the Song and Yuan dynasties, specifically from the twelfth and thirteenth centuries (see Steinhardt 2000; Qiao 2001). One of the most important examples is Yongle gong (Palace of Eternal Joy; Ruicheng, Shanxi), which includes major temple murals related to early Quanzhen Daoism (see Katz 1999).

Daoist temple architecture has utilized and continues to utilize the primary materials, construction methods, and styles of traditional Chinese architecture (see Steinhardt 2000; Qiao 2001). Most surviving Daoist temples utilize brick and timber construction. They include large wood columns and sloping tile roofs with over-arching eaves. They also have various stone elements, including stone steps, railings, and arches.

Following traditional Chinese architecture, one of the most interesting architectural features of Daoist temples is the door-sill (menkan; hukun). Usually part of the larger doorframe, door-sills are located at the entrance of temples and altars and measure about one foot to two feet in height. They have practical, mythological, and spiritual dimensions. On the most basic level, they prevent rain and mud from entering. In terms of mythology, I have heard a variety of explanations. One of the more interesting is that there are short, one-legged demons whose only form of mobility is hopping; the door-sill is too high for them to jump over. On a deeper spiritual level, doorsills demarcate sacred space; they are physical and spiritual boundaries. For residents and pilgrims (see Chapter 1), to cross this threshold is to enter a Daoist sacred place. This involves stepping over the raised, wooden ledge with the left foot first. It involves awareness and attentiveness. One can enter the sacred space consciously or not. Like Daoist bowing (see Chapter 13), stepping over door-sills can be a Daoist contemplative practice, and that experience may influence one’s daily life more generally. In application, one remains attentive to boundaries, crossing thresholds, and abiding in sacred space. One also becomes more sensitive to the qualities and functions of space.

The layout of Daoist temples varies depending on size and location. Specifically, the uniformity and conformity to the standard layout is greater for lowland and urban temples, and less for mountain sites. Moreover, as discussed below, there is often a deeper mythological and soteriological dimension of the layout (see also Lagerwey 1992). Again paralleling traditional Chinese architecture, and specifically imperial temples, the standard Daoist temple layout is along a north-south axis. Ideally speaking, this is actually and symbolically the case, that is, it is sited facing south. However, from a Fengshui perspective (see, e.g. Wong 1996; Bruun 2003, 2008), the temple is always discussed along these lines, with the entrance being “ritual south.” Facing south, the back of the temple is north (Mysterious Warrior), the front is south (vermilion bird), the right is west (white tiger), and the left is east (azure dragon) (see Chapters 6 and 13 herein). Here we should note that, although utilized in Daoist architecture and by some Daoists, Fengshui (lit., “wind and water”), also known as Chinese geomancy, is not Daoist; like some other elements of the Daoist tradition, such as correlative cosmology (yin-yang/Five Phases), calendrics, and the incorporation of popular gods into the Daoist pantheon and altars (see Chapter 6), it is best understood as part of “traditional Chinese culture” (see Komjathy 2011b).

FIGURE 24 Traditional Daoist Temple Architecture and Layout

Source: Huayin xianzhi

In terms of Daoist architectural layout, a paradigmatic example is Baiyun guan (White Cloud Monastery; Beijing) (see Yoshioka 1979; Qiao 2001; Komjathy forthcoming). This sacred site consists of the main altars along the central, vertical axis as well as side altars along horizontal axes. If one were moving through the actual temple, one would notice open courtyards, sheltering trees, places to sit, as well as other architectural features and dimensions of Daoist material culture. One would note the spaciousness and peacefulness characteristic of traditional Daoist temples and spaces. Returning to the layout, the altars are usually arranged hierarchically. Moving along the north-south axis, with north in back and representing Mystery, the front altars contain “lower” deities, while the back altars contain “higher” deities, those that are more primordial and closer to the Dao as Source. The deepest altar, or the most elevated altar in the case of Daoist mountain temples, is the highest in terms of the pantheon. In contemporary Daoist temples, the central altar is usually dedicated to the Sanqing (Three

Purities), the earliest, primordial emanations of the Dao (see Chapters 6 and 13).

All of the examples so far derive from traditional Daoist temples and sacred sites. However, as I have suggested in sections of the present book, and as discussed more fully in the next chapter, Daoism is now a global religious tradition. Like modern “Daoist art” and Daoism more generally, there is the possibility and perhaps necessity of cultural adaptation. With respect to Daoist architecture and uses of space, one can identify particular principles and characteristics. Daoist temples frequently contain large open spaces, covered walkways, various partitions and corridors, as well as many natural features such as trees and stones. There is a guiding aesthetic, energetic attentiveness, and refined spatiality that could be applied to other forms of architecture. Although yet to appear, one can imagine new Daoist sacred sites and religious spaces, which combine traditional Chinese Daoist aesthetics with new architectural designs and more local materials. Here we should note that there are few, if any, actual Daoist temples and sacred sites outside of China and the Chinese cultural sphere. While there are some Daoist spaces, such as altars in commercial buildings, there are few actual Daoist places in the West. One is most likely to find self-identified Daoist organizations located in private homes, commercial spaces, or former Christian churches. This is largely a matter of the expense of purchasing land and undertaking new construction projects as well as the lack of support for tradition-based Daoist communities in the West. The main exception with which I am familiar is a Daoist temple utilizing traditional Chinese architecture near Toronto. Completed in 2007 and located in Orangeville, Ontario, this temple was constructed by the Taoist Tai Chi Society/Fung Loy Kok, which has some connection to the Yuen Yuen Institute (Yuanxuan xueyuan) of Hong Kong. As one might expect, this temple received major funding from overseas, immigrant and ethnic Chinese members (see Chapter 16), and it is no coincidence that it has connections to Hong Kong Daoism.

The final aspect of Daoist material culture related to Daoist temples and temple communities centers on the various objects contained within the temple walls and utilized by temple inhabitants. On a more “mundane” level, this would include each and every material element of daily life. On a more “profound” level, it would include objects related to lived and living Daoist religiosity. This is Daoist “material culture” as rooted in community life and religious practice. Within Daoist temple compounds, one often finds steles (beike; shike), their associated rubbings (tuopian), temple boards (muban), cliff inscriptions (moya), and temple murals (bihua). Engraved on large stone tablets, and less occasionally on bronze or wood, steles generally contain information on temple history, including renovations, and on key inhabitants and patrons. There are also famous and rarer examples that contain images, especially portraits of famous Daoists or specific body-maps and practice aids (see, e.g. Needham 1983; Depeux 1994; Little 2000a: 124, 138–9, 144, 148, 336, 344–5; Komjathy 2008c, 2009, 2011d). Temple boards are wood boards engraved with calligraphy. The most visible temple boards are horizontal ones above entrances, containing either the name of the temple or of the specific altar. However, one also finds vertical temple boards engraved with Daoist practice principles and/or poems.

Entering into the inner sections of Daoist temples and sacred sites, one encounters altars. Such altars usually consist of bowing mats in front of one or more wooden altar tables. The primary constituents of Daoist altars are the incense burner, incense, matches or a lighter, two candelabras, two red candles, as well as the prayer-bell and wooden fish-drum (see above; Chapter 13). It should be mentioned that the incense is usually lit from the flame of the candles, and that the incense flame is extinguished by shaking the incense stick in the air. In Daoism, one does not blow out incense or candles, as exhaling through the mouth expels toxins from the body; it is considered noxious qi. Like the sound of the prayer-bell, one also allows incense to completely burn down, as it is an offering and a petition.

On a personal level, in addition to their clothes and ritual implements, Daoists have their own books and manuscripts, altars and altar art, hairpins, tea-sets, cultivational art, and so forth. In terms of material culture, Daoists believe that objects may be infused with sacred presence. This may occur through daily use by advanced practitioners, and such objects are often bestowed to disciples or Companions of the Way (daoyou; fellow adherents with similar affinities and orientations) as the individual nears death or upon death. On a more formal level, objects such as statuary and altar art may be “activated,” infused with numinosity, through actual consecration (kaiguang; lit., “opening the radiance”) rituals (see Chapter 13).

By way of conclusion, we must recognize that we cannot separate Daoist sacred sites, temples, and material culture from the associated Daoist communities who occupy those places (see Chapters 4 and 16; also Herrou 2005; Goossaert 2007). Although there is a tendency to collect “Daoist material culture” as somehow distinct from “Daoist religious life” (see Chapter 1), or to collect the Dao and other dimensions of Daoist culture as distinct from the Daoist tradition, every “object” has a source and a history. For Daoists, such material culture plays a central role in Daoist religious life, the preservation of Daoist culture, and the transmission of the Daoist tradition to future generations.