Toshihiko Izutsu Sufism And Taoism P2.Ch02 II From Mythopoiesis to Metaphysics

 SUFISM AND TAOISM: A Comparative Study of Key Philosophical Concepts

by Toshihiko Izutsu 1983

First published 1983 by Iwanami Shoten, Publishers, Tokyo
This edition is published by The University of California Press, 1984,
Rev. ed. of: A comparative study of the key philosophical concepts in Sufism and Taoism. 1966-67.

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Contents

Preface by T. Izutsu

Introduction

Part II - Lao-Tzii & Chuang-Tzu

I Lao-Tzu and Chuang-Tzu

II From Mythopoiesis to Metaphysics

III Dream and Reality

IV Beyond This and That

V The Birth of a New Ego

VI Against Essentialism

VII The Way

VIII The Gateway of Myriad Wonders

IX Determinism and Freedom

X Absolute Reversai of Values

XI The Perfect Man

XII Homo Politicus

Part III - A Comparative Reftection 

I Methodological Preliminaries

II The Inner Transformation of Man

III The Multistratified Structure of Reality

IV Essence and Existence

V The Self-evolvement of Existence

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II From Mythopoiesis to Metaphysics

In the preceding chapter I indicated in a preliminary way the possi-

bility of there being a very strong connection between Taoist

philosophy and shamanism. 

I suggested that the thought or world-

view of Lao-tzu and Chuang-tzu may perhaps be best studied

against the background of the age-old tradition of the shamanic

spirit in ancient China. 

The present chapter will be devoted to a

more detailed discussion of this problem, namely, the shamanic

background of Taoist philosophy as represented by the Tao Tê

Ching and Chuang-tzü.

In fact, throughout the long history of Chinese thought there runs

what might properly be called a 'shamanic mode of thinking'. We

observe this specific mode of thinking manifesting itself in diverse

forms and on various levels in accordance with the particular cir-

cumstances of time and place, sometimes in a popular, fan tas tic

form, often going to the limit of superstition and obscenity, and

sometimes in an intellectually refined and logically elaborated form.

We observe also that this mode of thinking stands in sharp contrast

to the realistic and rationalistic mode of thinking as represented by

the austere ethical world-view of Confucius and his followers.

Briefly stated, I consider the Taoist world-view of Lao-tzu and

Chuang-tzu as a philosophical elaboration or culmination of this

shamanic mode of thinking; as, in other words, 

a particular form of philosophy which grew out of the persona! existential experience peculiar to persons endowed with the capacity of seeing things on a

supra-sensible plane of consciousness through an ecstatic encounter

with the Absolute and through the archetypal images emerging out

of it.

The Taoist philosophers who produced works like the Tao Tê

Ching and Chuang-tzü were 'shamans' on the one hand, as far as

concerns the experiential basis of their world-vision, 

but they were on the other, intellectual thinkers who, not content to remain on the primitive level of popular shamanism, exercised their intellect in

order to elevate and elaborate their original vision into a system of

metaphysical concepts designed to expIain the very structure of Being.

[301]

Lao-tzu talks about shêng-jên 1 or the 'sacred man'. It is one of the

key-concepts of his philosophical world-view, and as such plays an

exceedingly important rôle in his thought. The 'sacred man' is a man

who has attained to the highest stage of the intuition of the Way, to

the extent of being completely unified with it, and who behaves

accordingly in this world following the dictates of the Way that he

feels active in himself. He is, in brief, a human embodiment of the

Way. In exactly the same sense, Chuang-tzu speaks of chên-jên2 or

the 'true man', chih-jên3 or the 'ultimate man', shên-jên4 or the

'divine (or super-human) man'. The man designated by these vari-

ous words is in reality nothing other than a philosophical shaman, or

a shaman whose visionary intuition of the world has been refined

and elaborated into a philosophical vision of Being.

That the underlying concept has historically a close connection

with shamanism is revealed by the etymological meaning of the

word shêng here translated as 'sacred'. The Shuo Wên Chieh Tzü,

the oldest etymological dictionary ( compiled in 100 A.D.), in its

explanation of the etymological structure of this word states: 'Shêng

designates a man whose orifices of the ears are extraordinarily

receptive' .5 

In other words, the term designates a man, endowed

with an unusually keen ear, who is capable of hearing the voice of a

super-natural being, god or spirit, and understands directly the will

or intention of the latter. In the concrete historical circumstances of

the ancient Yin Dynasty, such a man can be no other than a divine

priest professionally engaged in divination.

It is interesting to remark in this connection that in the Tao Tê

Ching the 'sacred man' is spoken of as the supreme ruler of astate,

or 'king', and that this equation (Saint= King) is made as if it were a

matter of common sense, something to be taken for granted. We

must keep in mind that in the Yin Dynasty6 shamanism was deeply

related to poli tics. In that dynasty, the civil officiais of the higher

ranks who possessed and exercised a tremendous power over the

administration of the state were all originally shamans. And in the

earliest periods of the same dynasty, the Grand Shaman was the

high priest-vizier, or even the king himself.7

This would seem to indicate that behind the 'sacred man' as the

Taoist ideal of the Perfect Man there is hidden the image of a

shaman, and that under the surface of the metaphysical world-view

of Taoism there is perceivable a shamanic cosmology going back to

the most ancient times of Chinese history.

For the immediate purposes of the present study, we do not have to

go into a detailed theoretical discussion of the concept of shaman-

ism.8 We may be content with defining it in a provisional way by

saying that it is a phenomenon in which an inspired seer in a state of

ecstasy communes with supernatural beings, gods or spirits. As is

well known, a man who has a natural capacity of this kind tends to

serve in a primitive society as an intermediary between his tribes-

men and the unseen world. 

As one of the most typical features of the shamanic mentality we

shall consider first of all the phenomenon of mythopoiesis. 

Shamans are by definition men who, in their ecstatic-archetypal visions per-

ceive things which are totally different from what ordinary people

see in their normal states through their sensible experiences, and

this naturally tends to induce the shamans to interpret and structuralize the world itself quite differently from ordinary people. That which characterizes their reality experience in the most remarkable way is that things appear to their 'imaginai' consciousness in symbolic and mythical forms. The world which a shaman sees in the state of trance is a world of 'creative imagination', as Henry Corbin

has aptly named it, however crude it may still be. On this level of

consciousness, the things we perceive around us leave their natural,

common-sense mode of existence and transform themselves into images and symbols. And those images, when they become systematized and ordered according to the patterns of development which are inherent in them, tend to produce a mythical cosmology.

The shamanic tradition in ancient China did produce such a

cosmology. In the Elegies of Ch'u to which reference was made in

the preceding chapter, we can trace almost step by step and in a very

concrete form the actual process by which the shamanic experience

of reality produces a peculiar, 'imaginai' cosmology. And by com-

paring, further, the Elegies ofCh'u with a book like Huai Nan Tzu, 9

we can observe the most intimate relationship that exists between

the shamanic cosmology and Taoist metaphysics. There one seessur

le vif how the mythical world-view represented by the former

develops and is transformed into the ontology of the Way.

Another fact which seems to confirm the existence of a close

relationship, both essential and historical, between the Taoist

metaphysics and the shamanic vision of the world is found in the

history of Taoism after the Warring States period. In fact, the

development of Taoism, after having reached its philosophical

zenith with Lao-tzii and Chuang-tzii, goes on steadily describing a

curve of 'degeneration' - as it is generally called - even under a

strong influence of the Tao Tê Ching and Chuang-tzu, and returns to

its original mythopoeic form, revealing thereby its shamanic basis,

until it reaches in the Later Han Dynasty a stage at which Taoism

becomes almost synonymous with superstition, magic and witch-

craft. The outward structure of Taoist metaphysics itself discloses

almost no palpable trace of its shamanic background, but in the

philosophical description of the tao by Lao-tzii, for instance, there is

undeniably something uncanny and uncouth that would seem to be

indicative of its original connection with shamanism.303

Lao-tzii depicts, as we shall see later in more detail, the Way (tao) as

Something shadowy and dark, prior to the existence of Heaven and

Earth, unknown and unknowable, impenetrable and intangible to

the degree of only being properly described as Non-Being, and yet

pregnant with forms, images and things, which lie latent in the midst

of its primordial obscurity. The metaphysical Way thus depicted has

an interesting counterpart in the popular mythopoeic imagination

as represented by Shan Hai Ching, 10 in which it appears in a fantas-

tic form.

Three hundred and fifty miles further to the West there is a mountain

called Heaven Mountain. The mountain produces much gold and

jade. lt produces also blue sulphide. And the River Ying takes its rise

therefrom and wanders southwestward until it runs into the Valley of

Boiling Water. Now in this mountain there lives a Divine Bird whose

body is like a yellow sack, red as burning tire, who has six legs and

four wings. lt is strangely amorphous, having no face, no eyes, but it is

very good at singing and dancing. In reality, this Bird is no other than

the god Chiang.

In the passage here quoted, two things attract our attention. One is

the fact that the monster-bird is described as being good at singing

and dancing. The relevance of this point to the particular problem

we are now discussing will immediately be understood if one

remembers that 'singing and dancing', i.e., ritual dance, invariably

accompanies the phenomenon of shamanism. Dancing in ancient

China was a powerful means of seeking for the divine Will, of

inducing the state of ecstasy in men, and of 'calling down' spirits

from the invisible world. The above-mentioned dictionary, Shuo

Wên, defines the word wu (shaman) as 'a woman who is naturally fit

for serving the formless (i.e., invisible beings) and who, by means of

dancing call down spirits' .11 It is interesting that the same dictionary

explains the character itself which represents this word, IB , by

saying that it pictures a woman dancing with two long sleeves

hanging down on the right and the left. In the still earlier stage of its

development, 12 it represents the figure of a shaman holding up jade

with two hands in front of a spirit or god.

It is also significant that the monster is'said to be a bird, which is

most probably an indication that the shamanic dancing here in

question was some kind of feather-dance in which the shaman was

ritually ornamented with a feathered headdress.

The second point to be noticed in the above-given passage from

the Shan Hai Ching - and this point is of far greater relevance to the

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present study than the first - is the particular expression used in the

description of the monster's visage, hun tun, 13 which 1 have provi-

sionally translated above as 'strangely amorphous'. lt means a

chaotic state of things, an amorphous state where nothing is clearly

delineated, nothing is clearly distinguishable, but which is far from

being sheer non-being; it is, on the contrary, an extremely obscure

'presence' in which the existence of something - or some things, still

undifferentiated - is vaguely and dimly sensed.

The relation between this word as used in this passage and

Chuang-tzu's allegory of the divine Emperor Hun Tun has been

noticed long ago by philologists of the Ch'ing dynasty. The com-

mentator of the Shan Hai Ching, Pi Yüan, for instance, explicitly

connects this description of the monster with the featureless face of

the Emperor Hun Tun.

The allegory given by Chuang-tzu reads as follows:' 4

The Emperor of the South Sea was called Shu, the Emperor of the

North Sea was called Hu, 15 and the Emperor of the central domain

was called Hun Tun. 16 Once, Shu and Hu met in the domain of Hun

Tun, who treated both of them very well. Thereupon, Shu and Hu

deliberated together over the way in which they might possibly repay

his goodness.

'All men', they said, 'are possessed of seven orifices for seeing,

hearing, eating, and breathing. But this one (i.e., Hun Tun) alone

does not possess any (orifice). Come, let us bore some for him.'

They went on boring one orifice every day, until on the seventh day

Hun Tun died.

This story describes in symbolic terms the destructive effect exer-

cised by the essentialist type of philosophy on the Reality. lt is a

merciless denunciation of this type of philosophy on behalf of a

peculiar form of existentialist philosophy which, as we shall see

later, Chuang-tzu was eager to uphold. Shu and Hu, symbolizing the

precariousness of human existence, met in the central domain of

Hun Tun; they were very kindly treated and they became happy for

a brief period of time as their names themselves indicate. This event

would seem to symbolize the human intellect stepping into the

domain of the supra-sensible world of 'un-differentiation', the

Absolute, and finding a momentary felicity there - the ecstasy of a

mystical intuition of Being, which, regrettably, lasts but for a short

time. Encouraged by this experience, the human intellect, or

Reason, tries to bore holes in the Absolu te, that is to say, tries to

mark distinctions and bring out to actuality all the forms that have

remained latent in the original undifferentiation. The result of

'boring' is nothing but the philosophy of Names (ming) as rep-

resented by Confucius and his school, an essentialist philosophy,

where all things are clearly marked, delineated, and sharply disting-

From Mythopoiesis to Metaphysics 305 uished from one another ori the ontological level of essences. But the moment orifices were bored in Hun Tun's face, he died. This means that the Absolu te can be brought into the grasp of Reason by 'essential' distinctions being made in the reality of the Absolute, and becomes thereby something understandable; but the moment it becomes understandable to Reason, the Absolute dies. lt is not time yet for us to go into the details of the existentialist position taken by Chuang-tzu. 1 simply wanted to show by this example how closely the shamanic mythopoeic imagination was originally related with the birth of Taoist philosophy, and yet, at the same time, how far removed the latter was in its philosophical import from the former. This sense of distance between shamanism and philosophy may be alleviated to a considerable extent if we place between the two terms of the relation the cosmogonical story - a product of the mythopoeic mentality - which purports to explain how Heaven and Earth came into being. lt is not exactly a 'story'; it is a 'theory' and is meant to be one. lt is a result of a serious attempt to describe and explain theoretically the very origin of the world of Being and the process by which all things in the world have corne to acquire the forms with which we are now familiar. The cosmogony constitutes in this sense the middle term - structurally, if not historically - between the crude shamanic myth and the highly developed metaphysics of the Way. Here we give in translation the cosmogony as formulated in the above-mentioned Huai Nan Tzü: 11 Heaven and Earth had no form yet. lt was astate of formless ftuidity; nothing stable, nothing definite. This state is called the Great Begin- ning. The Great Beginning produced 18 a spotless void. The spotless void produced the Cosmos. The Cosmos produced (the all- pervading) vital energy. 19 The vital energy had in itself distinctions. That which was limpid and light went up hovering in thin layers to form Heaven, while that which was heavy and turbid coagulated and became Earth. The coming together of limpid and fine elements is naturally easy, while the coagulation of heavy and turbid elements is difficult to occur. For this reason, Heaven was the first to be formed, then Earth became established. Heaven and Earth gathered together the finer elements of their vital energy to form the principles of Negative (Yin) and Positive (Yang), and the Negative and Positive gathered together the finer elements of their vital energy to constitute the four seasons. The four seasons scattered their vital energy to bring into being the ten thousand things. The calorie energy of the Positive principle, having been accumulated, gave birth to fire, and the essence of the energy of fire became the sun. The energy of coldness peculiar to the Negative principle, having been accumulated became water, and the essence of

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the energy of water became the moon. The overflow of the sun and

the moon, having become refined, turned into stars and planets.

Heaven received the sun, moon, stars, and planets. Earth received

water, puddles, dust, and soil.

In the passage her quoted we encounter again that undifferen-

tiated, featureless Something, the primordial Chaos, this time as a

cosmogonie principle or the Great Beginning, representing the state

of affairs before the creation of the world. The Great Beginning is

certainly different from the mythical monster of the Shan Hai Ching

and the metaphysical principle of the Tao Tê Ching. But it is evident

at the same time that these three are but different 'phenomena' of

one and the same thing.

Similarly in a different passage20 in the same book we read:

Long long ago, when Heaven and Earth were still non-existent, there

were no definite figures, no definite forms. Mysteriously profound,

opaque and dark: nothing was distinguishable, nothing was fathom-

able; limitlessly remote, vast and void; nobody would have discerned

its gate.

Then there were born together two divinities, and they began to rule

Heaven and to govern Earth. lnfinitely deep (was Heaven), and no

one knew where it came to a limit. Vastly extensive (was Earth), and

no one knew where it ceased.

Thereupon (Being) divided itself into the Negative and the Positive,

which, then, separated into the eight cardinal directions.

The hard and the soft complemented each other, and as a result the

ten thousand things acquired their definite forms. The gross and

confused elements of the vital energy produced animais (including

beasts, birds, reptiles and fish). The finer vital energy produced man.

This is the reason why the spiritual properly belongs to Heaven, while

the bodily belongs to Earth.

Historically speaking, this and similar cosmogonical theories seem

to have been considerably inflùenced by Taoism and its metaphys-

ics. Structurally, however, they furnish a connecting link between

myth and philosophy, pertaining as they do to both of them and yet

differing from them in spirit and structure. The cosmogony discloses

to our eyes in this sense the mythopoeic background of the

metaphysics of the Way as formulated by Lao-tzii and Chuang-tzii.

In a similar fashion, we can bring to light the subjective - i.e.,

epistemological - aspect of the relationship between shamanism

and Taoist philosophy by comparing the above-mentioned Elegies

of Ch'u and the books of Lao-tzii and Chuang-tzii. The possibility of

obtaining an interesting result from a comparative study of Ch'ü

Yüan, the great shaman-poet of the state of Ch'u, and the

From Mythopoiesis to Metaphysics 307

philosophers of Taoism was noted long ago by Henri Maspero,21

although death prevented him from fully developing his idea.

ln the Li Sao22 and the Yüan Yu, 23 the shaman-poet describes in

detail the process of visionary states through which a soul in an

ecstatic state, helped and assisted by various gods and spirits,

ascends to the heavenly city where the 'etemal beings' live. This is in

reality nothing but a description of a shamanic unio mystica. And

the shamanic ascension is paralleled by a visionary ascension of a

similar structure in the Chuang-tzu, the only essential difference

between the two being that in the latter case the experience of the

spiritual joumey is refined and elaborated into the form of a

metaphysical contemplation. Just as the shaman-poet experiences

in his ecstatic oblivion of the ego a kind of immortality and eternity,

so the Taoist philosopher experiences immortality and 'long life' in

the midst of the etemal Way, by being unified with it. lt is interesting

to notice in this respect that the poet says in the final stage of his

spiritual experience that he 'transcends the Non-Doing,24 reaches

the primordial Purity, and stands side by si de with the Great Begin-

ning' .25 In Taoist terminology, we would say that the poet at this

stage 'stands side by side with the Way', that is, 'is completely

unified with the Way', there being no discrepancy between them.

In the Li Sao the poet does not ascend to such a height. Standing

on the basic assumption that both the Li Sao and Yüan Yu are

authentic works of Ch'ü Yüan, Maspero remarks that the Li Sao

represents an earlier stage in the spiritual development of the poet,

at which he, as a shaman, has not yet attained to the final goal,

whereas the Yüan Yu represents a later stage at which the poet 'has

already reached the extremity of mysticism'.

Such an interpretation is of course untenable if we know for

certain that the Yüan Yu is a work composed by a later poet and

surreptitiously attributed to Ch'ü Yüan. In any case, the poem in its

actual form is markedly Taoistic, and some of the ideas are undeni-

ably borrowings from Lao-tzii and Chuang-tzii. Here again,

however, the problem of authenticity is by no means a matter of

primary importance tous. For even if we admit that the poem - or

some parts of - it is a Han Dynasty forgery, it remains true that the

very fact that Taoist metaphysics could be so naturally transformed

- or brought back - into a shamanic world-vision is itself a proof

of a real congeniality that existed between shamanism and

Taoism.

A detailed analytic comparison between the Elegies of Ch'u and

the books of Lao-tzii and Chuang-tzii is sure to make an extremely

fruitful and rewarding work. But to do so will take us too far afield

beyond the main topic of the present study. Besides, we are going to

describe in detail in the first chapters of this book the philosophical

version of the spiritual journey which has just been mentioned. And

this must suffice us for our present purposes.308 

Let us now leave the problem of the shamanic origin of Taoism,

and turn to the purely philosophical aspects of the latter. Our main

concern will henceforward be exclusively with the actual structure

of Taoist metaphysics and its key-concepts.

Notes

1. IRA.

2. •A·

3. "'!P.A. i.e., a man who has attained to the furthest limit (of perfection).

4. 4if!A. We may note that this and the preceding words ail refer to one and the same

concept which is the Taoist counterpart of the concept of insân kâmil or the Perfect

Man, which we discussed in the first part of this study.

5. J: Miî::E§îJ.

6. Reference has been made in the preceding chapter to the possible historical

connection between the Yin dynasty and the spirit of the state of Ch'u.

7. For more details about the problem of the shaman ( (.JP; wu) representing the

highest administrative power in the non-secularized state in ancient China, see for

example Liang Ch' i Ch' ao: A History of Political Thought in the Periods Prior to the

Ch'in Dynasty 1923, Shanghai, Ch. II.

8. 1 would refer the reader to Mircea Eliade's basic work: Shamanism, Archaic

Techniques of Ecstasy, English tr., London, 1964.

9. lrltlîîTJ, an eclectic work compiled by thinkers of various schools who were

gathered by the king of Huai Nan, Liu An j!J'i(, at his court, in the second century B.C.

The book is of an eclectic nature, but its basic thought is that of the Taoist school.

1 O. one of the most important source-books for Chinese mythology, giving

a detailed description of ail kinds of mythological monsters living in mountains and

seas. The following quotation is taken from a new edition of the book,

(11$.li-*iUl), with a commentary by Pi Yüan of the Ch'ing dynasty,

Tai Pei, 1945, p. 57.

11.

12. The character it appears in the oracle-bones is: fR or /ti.

13. Plfi(. The word is written in the Chuang-tzu iaiflti.

14. Chapter VII entitled 'Fit to be Emperors and Kings', p. 309.

15. Bo th shu ( fl) and hu ( %!. ) lite rail y mean a brief span of time, symbolizing in this

allegory the precariousness of existence.

309

16. Important to note is the fact that hun tun, the' undifferentiation' is placed in the

center. It means that hun tun represents the true 'reality' of Being, bordering on both

sides on 'precariousness'. The philosophical implication of all this will be elucidated

in a later chapter.

17. lf'ltiîîî-J, III, T'ien Wên ::RXlllil.

18. The received text as it stands is apparently unintelligible. Following the emenda-

tion suggested by Wang Yin Chih ( 3:%Z) 1 read: l;J&B:kAHifH!f1Tf!IJri· ..... 1.

19. The' all-pervading vital energy' is a clumsy translation of the Chinese word ch'i

which plays an exceedingly important rôle in the history of Chinese thought. lt is a

'reality', proto-material and formless, which cannot be grasped by the senses. It is a

kind of vital force, a creative principle of ail things; it pervades the whole world, and

being immanent in everything, molds it and makes it grow into what it really is.

Everything that has a 'form', whether animate or inanimate, has a share in the ch'i.

The concept of ch'i has been studied by many scholars. As one of the most detailed

analytic studies of it we may mention Teikichi Hiraoka: A Study of Ch'i in Huai Nan

Tzu,Zf'IMJmii Tokyo 1969.

20. ibid., VII, mij]lj!itfll.

21. ibid., III.

22.

23. l:&i!J. Many scholars entertain serious doubts-with reason, 1 think - as to the

authenticity of this important and interesting work. Most probably it is a product of

the Han Dynasty (see #Jillflm nUU1îtt3l<litJ), composed in the very atmosphere of

a, fully developed philosophy of Taoism.

24. wu-wei one of the key-terms of Taoist philosophy, which we shall analyze

in a la ter passage. 'Non-Doing' means, in short, man's abandoning ail artificial,

unnatural effort to do something, and identifying himself completely with the activity

of Nature which is nothing other than the spontaneous self-manifestation of the Way

itself. Here the poet daims that at the final stage of his spiritual development he goes

even beyond the level of 'non-activity' and of being one with Nature, and steps

further into the very core of the Way. In his consciousness - or in his 'non-

consciousness', we should rather say

Toshihiko Izutsu Sufism And Taoism P2.Ch01 I Lao-Tzu and Chuang-Tzu

 SUFISM AND TAOISM: A Comparative Study of Key Philosophical Concepts

by Toshihiko Izutsu 1983

First published 1983 by Iwanami Shoten, Publishers, Tokyo
This edition is published by The University of California Press, 1984,
Rev. ed. of: A comparative study of the key philosophical concepts in Sufism and Taoism. 1966-67.

=====

Contents

Preface by T. Izutsu

Introduction

Part I - Ibn 'Arabi

1 Dream and Reality

II The Absolute in its Absoluteness

III The Self-knowledge of Man

IV Metaphysical Unification and Phenomenal Dispersion

V Metaphysical Perplexity

VI The Shadow of the Absolute

VII The Divine Nam es

VIII Allah and the Lord

IX Ontological Mercy

X The Water of Life

XI The Self-manifestation of the Absolute

XII Permanent Archetypes

XIII Creation

XIV Man as Microcosm

XV The Perfect Man as an Individual

XVI Apostle, Prophet, and Saint

XVII The Magical Power of the Perfect Man

Part II - Lao-Tzii & Chuang-Tzu

I Lao-Tzu and Chuang-Tzu

II From Mythopoiesis to Metaphysics

III Dream and Reality

IV Beyond This and That

V The Birth of a New Ego

VI Against Essentialism

VII The Way

VIII The Gateway of Myriad Wonders

IX Determinism and Freedom

X Absolute Reversai of Values

XI The Perfect Man

XII Homo Politicus

Part III - A Comparative Reflection 

I Methodological Preliminaries

II The Inner Transformation of Man

III The Multistratified Structure of Reality

IV Essence and Existence

V The Self-evolvement of Existence

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Ch 1. Lao-Tzu and Chuang-Tzu

The book called Tao Tê Ching is now world-famous, and is being

widely read in the West in various translations as one of the most

important basic texts of Oriental Wisdom. It is generally - or

popularly, we should say - thought to be a philosophico-mystical

treatise written by an ancient Chinese sage called Lao-tzu, a senior

contemporary of Confucius. In more scholarly circles no one today

takes such a view.

In fact, since the Ch'ing Dynasty when the question of the author-

ship of the book was first raised in China, 1 it has been discussed by so

many people, it has provoked such an animated controversy not

only in China but in Japan, and even in the West, and so divergent

are the hypotheses which have been put forward, that we are left in

utter darkness as to whether the Tao Tê Ching is a work of an

individual thinker, or even whether a man called Lao-tzu ever

existed in reality. We are no longer in a position to assign a proper

chronological place to the book with full confidence.

For our particular purposes, the problem of authorship and the

authenticity of the work is merely of peripheral importance.

Whether or not there once existed as a historical person a sage

called Lao-tzu in the state of Ch'u, who lived more than one

hundred and sixty years,2 whether or not this sage really wrote the

Tao Tê Ching - these and similar questions, whether answered

affirmatively or negatively, do not affect at all the main contention

of the present work. What is of fondamental importance is the fact

that the thought is there, and that it has a very peculiar inner

structure which, if analyzed and understood in a proper way, will

provide an exceedingly interesting Chinese counterpart to the

'Unity of Existence' (walJ,dah al-wujüd) type of philosophy as rep-

resented by Ibn' Arabï in Islam. ·

Lao-tzu is a legendary, or at the very most, semi-legendary figure, of

whom it is an obvious understatement to say that nothing certain is

known tous. For, even on the assumption that there is an historical

core in his so-called biography, we must admit that the popular

imagination has woven round it such a fantastic tapestry of imposs-

ible events and unbelievable incidents that no one can ever hope to

disentangle the intricate web of legends, myths and focts.[288]

Even the most sober and most dependable of all Chinese his-

torians in ancient times, and the earliest to attempt a description of

Lao-tzu's life and adventures in his Book of History, 3 Ssu Ma Ch'ien

of the Han Dynasty (the beginning of the lst century B.C.), had to

be content with giving a very inconsistent and unsystematic narrative made up of a number of staries stemming from heterogeneous origins.

According to one of those legends, Lao-tzu was a native of the

state of Ch'u.4 He was an official of the royal Treasury of Chou,

when Confucius came to visit him. After the interview, Confucius is

related to have made the following remark to his disciples about

Lao-tzu. 'Birds fly, fishes swim, and animals run -this much 1 know

for certain. Moreover, the runner can be snared, the swimmer can

be hooked, and the flyer can be shot down by the arrow. But what

can we do with a dragon? We cannot even see how he mounts on

winds and clouds and rises to heaven. That Lao-tzu whom 1 met

to-day may probably be compared only to a dragon!'

The story makes Lao-tzu a senior contemporary of Confucius

(551-479 B.C.). This would naturally mean that Lao-tzu was a man

who lived in the 6th century B.C., which cannot possibly be a

historical fact.

Many arguments have been brought forward against the histori-

city of the narrative which we have just quoted. One of them is of

particular importance to us; it is concerned with examining this and

similar narratives philologically and in terms of the historical

development of philosophical thinking in ancient China. 

I shall give

here a typical example of this kind of philological argument.

Sokichi Tsuda in his well-known work, The Thought of the Taoist

School and its Development,5 subjects to a careful philological

examination the peculiar usage of some of the key technical terms in

the Tao Tê Ching, and arrives at the conclusion that the book must

be a product of a period after Mencius (372-289 B.C.). 

This would

imply of course that Lao-tzu - supposing that he did exist as a

historical person - was a man who came after Mencius.

Tsuda chooses as the yardstick of his judgment the expression

jen-i which is found in Chap. XVIII of the Tao Tê Ching,6 and which

is a compound of two words jen and i. These two words, jen

{'humaneness' with particular emphasis on 'benevolence') and i

('righteousness'), properly speaking, do not belong to the vocabul-

ary of Lao-tzu; they are key-terms of Confucianism. As represent-

ing two of the most basic human virtues, they play an exceedingly

important rôle in the ethical thought of Confucius himself.[289] 

But in the mouth of Confucius, they-remain two independent words; they

are not compounded into a semantic unit in the form of jen-i

corresponding almost to a single complex concept. The latter

phenomenon is observed only in post-Confucian times.

Tsuda points out that the thinker who first emphasized the con-

cept of jen-i is Mencius. This fact, together with the fact that in the

above-mentioned passage Lao-tzu uses the terms jen and i in this

compound form, would seem to suggest that the Tao Tê Ching, is a

product of a period in which the Confucian key-term jen-i has

already been firmly established, for the passage in question is most

evidently intended to be a conscious criticism of Confucian ethics.

Lao-tzu, in other words, could use the expression with such an

intention only because he had before his eyes Mencius and his

ethical theory.

Moreover, Tsuda goes on to remark, Mencius vehemently attacks

and denounces everything incompatible with Confucianism, but

nowhere does he show any conscious endeavour to criticize Lao-tzu

or Tao Tê Ching in spite of the fact that the teaching of the latter is

diametrically opposed to his own doctrine; he does not even men-

tion the name Lao-Tzü. This is irrefutable evidence for the thesis

that the Tao Tê Ching belongs to a period posterior to Mencius.

Since, on the other hand, its doctrines are explicitly criticized by

Hsün-tzü ( c. 315-236 B.C.), it cannot be posterior to the latter.

Thus, in conclusion, Tsuda assigns to the Tao Tê Ching a period

between Mencius and Hsün-tzu.

Although there are some problematic points in Tsuda's argument, he is, I think, on the whole right. In fact, there are a number of passages in the Tao Tê Ching which cannot be properly understood unless we place them against the background of a Confucian philosophy standing already on a very firm basis. 

And this, indeed, is the crux of the whole problem, 

at least for those to whom the thought itself of Lao-tzu is the major concern. 

The very famous opening lines of the Tao Tê Ching, for instance, 

in which the real Way and the real Name are mentioned in sharp contrast to an

ordinary 'way' and ordinary 'names' ,7 do not yield their true meaning except when we realize that 

what is meant by this ordinary 'way' is nothing but the proper ethical way of living as understood and taught by the school of Confucius, and that what is referred to by these ordinary 'names' are but the Confucian 'names', i.e., the highest ethical categories stabilized by means of definite 'names', i.e., key-terms.

The Tao Tê Ching contains, furthermore, a number of words and

phrases that are - seemingly at least - derived from various other

sources, like Mo-tzu, Yang Chu, Shang Yang, and even Chuang-

tzu, Shên Tao, and others.[290]  

And there are some scholars who, basing themselves on this observation, 

go farther than Tsuda and assert that the Tao Tê Ching belongs to a period after Chuang-tzu and Shên Tao. 

 Yang Jung Kuo, a contemporary scholar of Peking, to give one example, takes such a position in his History of Thought in Ancient China. 8

Some of these alleged 'references' to thinkers who have traditionally been considered later than Lao-tzu may very well be explained as due to the influence exercised by the Tao Tê Ching itself upon those thinkers who, in writing their books, may have 'borrowed' ideas and expressions from this book. 

Besides, we have to remember that the text of this book as we have it to-day has

evidently passed through a repeated process of editing, re-editing,

and re-arranging in the Han Dynasty. Many of the 'references' may

simply be later additions and interpolations.

Be this as it may, it has to be admitted that the Tao Tê Ching is a controversial work. And at least it is definitely certain that the formation of its thought presupposes the existence of the Confucian school of thought.

Turning now to another aspect of Lao-tzu, which is more important

for the purposes of the present work than chronology, we may begin

by observing that the Biography of Lao-tzu as given by Ssu Ma

Ch'ien in his Book of History makes Lao-tzu a man of Ch'u. 9 Thus

he writes in one passage, 'Lao-tzu was a native of the village Ch'ü

Jên, in Li Hsiang, in the province of K'u, in the state of Ch'u'. In

another passage he states that according to a different tradition,

there was a man called Lao Lai Tzu in the time of Confucius; that he

was a man of Ch'u, and produced fifteen books in which he talked

about the Way. Ssu Ma Ch'ien adds that this man may have been the

same as Lao-tzu.

All this may very well be a mere legend. And yet it is, in my view,

highly significant that the 'legend' connects the author of the Tao Tê

Ching with the state of Ch'u. This connection of Lao-tzu with the

southern state of Ch'u cannot be a mere coïncidence. For there is

something of the spirit of Ch'u running through the entire book. By

the 'spirit of Ch'u' 1 mean what may properly be called the shamanic

tendency of the mind or shamanic mode of thinking. Ch'u was a

large state lying on the southern periphery of the civilized Middle

Kingdom, a land of wild marches, rivers, forests and mountains, rich

in terms of nature but poor in terms of culture, inhabited by many

people of a non-Chinese origin with variegated, strange customs.

There all kinds of superstitious beliefs in supernatural beings and

spirits were rampant, and shamanic practices thrived. [291]

But this apparently primitive and 'uncivilized' atmosphere could

provide an ideal fostering ground for an extraordinary visionary

power of poetic imagination, as amply attested by the elegies writ-

ten by the greatest shaman-poet the state of Ch'u has ever pro-

duced, Ch'ü Yüan. 10 The same atmosphere could also produce a

very peculiar kind of metaphysical thinking. This is very probable

becausè the shamanic experience of reality is of such a nature that it

can be refined and elaborated into a high level of metaphysical

experience. In any case, the metaphysical depth of Lao-tzu's

thought can, 1 believe, be accounted for to a great extent by relating

it to the shamanic mentality of the ancient Chinese which can be

traced back to the oldest historie times and even beyond, and which

has flourished particularly in the southern part of China throughout

the long history of Chinese culture.

In this respect Henri Maspero11 is,1 think, basically right when he

takes exception to the traditional view that Taoism abruptly started

in the beginning of the fourth century B.C. as a mystical metaphys-

ics with Lao-tzu, was very much developed philosophically by 

Chuang-tzu toward the end of that century and vulgarized to a

considerable degree by Lieh-tzu and thenceforward went on the

way of corruption and degeneration until in the Later Han Dynasty

it was completely transformed into a jumble of superstition, anim-

ism, magic and sorcery. Against such a view, Maspero takes the

position that Taoism was a 'personal' religion - as contrasted with

the agricultural communal type of State religion which has nothing

to do with persona! salvation - going back to immemorial antiquity.

The school of Lao-tzu and Chuang-tzu, he main tains, was a particu-

lar branch or se.ction within this wide religious movement, a particu-

lar branch characterized by a marked mystical-philosophical ten-

dency.

These observations would seem to lead us back once again to the

problem of the authorship of Tao Tê Ching and the historicity of

Lao-tzu. Is it at all imaginable that such a metaphysical refinement

of crude mysticism should have been achieved as a result of a

process of natural development, without active participation of

an individual thinker endowed with an unusual philosophical

genius? 1 do not think so. Primitive shamanism in ancient China

would have remained in its original crudity as a phenomenon of

popular religion characterized by ecstatic orgy and frantic 'posses-

sion', if it were not for a tremendous work of elaboration done in the

course of its history by men of unusual genius. Thus, in order to

produce the Elegies of Ch'u the primitive shamanic vision of the

world had to pass through the mind of a Ch'ü Yüan. Likewise, the

same shamanic world-vision could be elevated into the profound

metaphysics of the Way only by an individual philosophical genius.

292 

When we read the Tao Tê Ching with the preceding observation

in mind, we cannot but feel the breath, so to speak, of an extraordi-

nary man pervading the whole volume, the spirit of an unusual

philosopher pulsating throughout the book. With all the possible

later additions and interpolations, which I readily admit, I cannot

agree with the view that the Tao Tê Ching is a work of compilation

consisting of fragments of thought taken from various heterogene-

ous sources. For there is a certain fondamental unity which strikes

us everywhere in the book. And the unity is a persona! one. In fact,

the Tao Tê Ching as a whole is a unique piece of work distinctly

colored by the personality of one unusual man, a shaman-

philosopher. Does he not give us a self-portrait in part XX of the

book?

The multitude of men are blithe and cheerful as though they were

invited to a luxurious banquet, or as though they were going up a high

tower to enjoy the spring scenery.

1 alone remain silent and still, showing no sign of activity. Like a

new-born baby 1 am, that has not yet learnt to smile. Forlorn and

aimless 1 look, as if 1 had no place to return.

All men have more than enough. I alone seem to be vacant and blank.

Mine indeed is the mind of a stupid man! Dull and confused it is! The

vulgar people are all clever and bright, I alone am dark and obtuse.

The vulgar people are all quick and alert, I alone am blunt and tardy.

Like a deep ocean that undulates constantly 1 am, like a wind that

blows never to rest.

All others have some work to do, while 1 alone remain impractical I

and boorish. 1 alone am different from all others because 1 value

being f ed by the Mother .12

Similarly in another passage (LXVII), he says of himself:

Everybody under Heaven says that 11 3 am big, but look stupid. Yea, I

look stupid because I am big. If I were clever 1 would have diminished

long ago.

And again in LXX, we read:

My words are very easy to understand and very easy to practise. Yet

no one under Heaven understands them; no one puts them into ·

practice.

My words come out of a profound source, and my actions come out of

a high principle. But people do not understand it. Therefore they do

not understand me.

Those who understand me are rare. That precisely is the proof that 1

am precious. The sage, indeed, wears clothes of coarse cloth, but

carries within precious jade.  

The passages just quoted give a picture of a very original mind, an

image of a man who looks gloomy, stupid and clumsy, standing

aloof from the 'clever' people who spend their time in the petty

pleasures of life. He takes such an attitude because he is conscious

of himself as utterly different from ordinary men. The important

question we have to raise about this is: Whence does this difference

come? The Tao Tê Ching itself and the Chuang-tzu seem to give a

definite answer to this question. The man feels himself different

from others because he is conscious that he alone knows the real

meaning of existence. And this he knows due to his metaphysical

insight which is based on what Chuang-tzu calls tso wang 'sitting in

oblivion', that is, the experience of ecstatic union with the Absolute,

the Way. The man who stands behind the utterances which we have

quoted above is a philosopher-mystic, or a visionary shaman turned

into a philosopher.

It is highly significant for our specific purpose to note that the

spirit of a philosophically developed shamanism pervades the whole

of the Tao Tê Ching. It is, so to speak, a living persona! 'center'

round which are co-ordinated all the basic ideas that we find in the

book, whether the thought concerns the metaphysical structure of

the universe, the nature of man, the art of governing people, or the

practical ideal of life. And such an organic unity cannot be

explained except on the assumption that the book, far from being a

compilation made of fragmentary and disparate pieces of thought

picked up at random from here and there, is in the main the work of

a single author.

In studying a book like the Tao Tê Ching it is more important than

anything else to grasp this persona! unity underlying it as a whole,

and to pinpoint it as the center of co-ordination for all its basic ideas.

For, otherwise, we would not be in a position to penetrate the subtle

structure of the symbolism of the Tao Tê Ching and analyze with

precision the basic ideas of its metaphysics.

Turning from Lao-tzu to Chuang-tzu, we feel ourselves standing on

a far more solid ground. For, although we are no better informed

about his real life and identity, at least we know that we are dealing

with an historical person, who did exist in about the middle of the

fourth century B.C., as a contemporary of Mencius, the great

shaman-poet Ch'ü Yüan of Ch'u to whom reference has been made,

and the brilliant dialectician Hui Shih or Hui-tzu14 with whom he

himself was a good match in the mastery of the art of manipulating

logical concepts.

According to the account given by Ssu Ma Ch'ien in the above-

mentioned Book of History, Chuang-tzu or Chuang Chou15 was a

native of Mêng; 16 he was once an official.at Ch'i-Yüan in Mêng; he

had tremendous erudition, but his doctrine was essentially based on

the teachings of Lao-tzu; and his writing, which counted more than

100,000 words, was for the most part symbolic or allegorical.

It is significant that Mêng, which is mentioned by Ssu Ma Ch'ien

as Chuang-tzu's birthplace, is in present-day Ho Nan and was a

place in the ancient state of Sung.17 1 regard this as significant

because Sung was a country where the descendants of the ancient

Yin 18 people were allowed to live after having been conquered by

the Chou people. 19 There these descendants of the once-illustrious

people, despised by the conquerors as the 'conquered' and con-

stantly threatened and invaded by their neighbors, succeeded in

preserving the religious beliefs and legends of their ancestors. The

significance of this fact with regard to the thesis of the present study

will at once be realized if one but remembers the animistic-

shamanic spirit of Yin culture as manifested in its sacrificial cere-

monies and rites of divination as well as in the myths connected with

this dynasty. The people of Yin were traditionally famous for their

cuit of spirits and worship of the 'God-above'. From of old the

distinction between Yin and Chou was made by such a dictum as:

'Yin worships spirits while Chou places the highest value on human

culture.' 20

Quite independently of the observation of this historical relation

between the Yin Dynasty and the Sung people, Fung Yu Lang in his

History of Chinese Philosophy 21 points out - quite rightly, to my

mind - that the form of Chuang-tzu's thought is close to that of the

Ch'u people. 'We should keep in mind', he writes, 'the fact that the

state of Sung bordered Ch'u, making it quite possible that Chuang-

tzu was influenced on the one hand by Ch'u, and at the same time

was under the influence of the ideas of the Dialecticians. (Hui Shih,

it will be remembered, was a native of Sung.) Thus by using the

dialectics of the latter, he was able to put his soaring thoughts into

order, and formulate a unified philosophical system.'

Of the 'spirit of Ch'u' we have talked in an earlier passage in

connection with the basic structure of Lao-tzu's thought. Fung Yu

Lang compares the Elegies of Ch'u (Ch'u Tz'u) 22 with the Chuang-

tzu and observes a remarkable resemblance between the two in the

display of 'a richness of imagination and freeness of spirit'. But he

neglects to trace this resemblance down to its shamanic origin, so

that the 'richness of imagination and freeness of spirit' is left unex-

plained. However it may be, we shall refrain from going any further

into the details of this problem at this point, for much more will be

said in the following chapter.

The problem of the relationship between Lao-tzu and Chuang-tzu

has been discussed at length by philologists. As we have already

observed the major doctrines of Chuang-tzu have traditionally been

regarded as being based upon the teachings of Lao-tzu. On this

view, Lao-tzu of course was a predecessor of Chuang-tzu in Taoist

philosophy; the main lines of thought had been laid down by the

former, and the latter simply took them over from him and

developed them in his own way into a grand-scale allegorical system

according to the dicta tes of his philosophical and literary ability.

This view seems to be a natural conclusion drawn from the observa-

tion of the following two facts: ( 1) the existence of an undeniable

inner connection between the two in the very structure of their

world-view and their mystical way of thinking; (2) Chuang-tzu

himself often mentioning Lao-tzu as one of the earlier Taoist sages,

and the expressions used being in some places almost the same.

The matter, however, is notas simple as it looks at the first glance.

In fact serious questions have been raised in modern times about

this problem. The Tao Tê Ching itself, to begin with, is nowhere

referred to in the Chuang-tzu, although Lao-tzu, as a legendary

figure, appears in its pages, and his ideas are mentioned. But this

latter fact proves almost nothing conclusively, for we know that

many of the persons who are made to play important rôles in the

Chuang-tzu are simply fictitious. Similarities in language may easily

be explained away as the result either of later interpolations in the

Tao Të Ching itself, or as going back to common sources.

Yang Jung Kuo, to whom reference has been made earlier, may

be mentioned as a representative present-day scholar who not only

doubts Lao-tzu's having been a predecessor of Chuang-tzu, but

goes a step further and completely reverses the chronological order.

In an interesting chapter of his above-mentioned book, History of

Thought in Ancient China,23 he decidedly takes the position that

Chuang-tzu was nota disciple of Lao-tzu; that, on the contrary, the

latter - or, to be more exact, the Tao Të Ching - was nothing other

than a continuation and further development of the Chuang-tzü.

And the way he defends his position is strictly philological; he tries

to prove his position through an examination of some of the key-

concepts common to Lao-tzu and Chuang-tzu. And he concludes

that the Tao Tê Ching presupposes the prior existence of the

Chuang-tzü. For instance, the most important of ail key-concepts of

Taoism, tao (Wag) as the cosmic principle of natural growth, or

Nature, is in the Chuang-tzü not yet fully developed in its inner

structure. The concept is already there, he says, but it is as yet a

mere beginning. The Tao Tê Ching takes over this concept at this

precise point and elaborates it into an absolute principle, the abso-

lutely unknowable Source, which is pre-eternal24 and from which

emanate all things. 25 And Yang Jung Kuo thinks that this historical

relation between the two - Chuang-tzü being the initial point and

Lao-tzu representing the culmination - is observable throughout

the whole structure of Taoist philosophy.

This argument, highly interesting though it is, is not conclusive.

For the key-concepts in question allow of an equally justifiable

explanation in terms of a process of development running from

Lao-tzu to Chuang-tzu. As regards the metaphysics of tao, for

instance, we have to keep in mind that Lao-tzu gives only the

result, a definitely established monistic system of archetypal ima-

gery whose center is constituted by the absolu te Absolute, tao, which

develops stage after stage by its own 'natural' creative activity down

to the world of multiplicity. This ontology, as I have pointed out

before, is understandable only on the assumption that it stands on

the basis of an ecstatic or mystical experience of Existence. Lao-tzu,

however, does not disclose this experiential aspect of bis world-view

except through vague, symbolic hints and suggestions. This is the

reason why the Tao Tê Ching tends to produce an impression of

being a philosophical elaboration of something which precedes it.

That 'something which precedes it', however, may not necessarily

be something taken over from others.

Chuang-tzu, on the other band, is interested precisely in this

experiential aspect of Taoist mysticism which Lao-tzu leaves

untouched. He is not mainly concerned with constructing a

metaphysics of a cosmic scale ranging from the ultimate Unknow-

able down to the concrete world of variegated colors and forms. His

chief concern is with the peculiar kind of' experience' itself by which

one penetrates the mystery of Existence. He tries to depict in detail,

sometimes allegorically, sometimes theoretically, the very

psychological or spiritual process through which one becomes more

and more 'illumined' and goes on approaching the real structure of

reality hidden behind the veil of sensible experience.

His attitude is, in comparison with Lao-tzu, epistemological,

rather than metaphysical. And this difference separates these two

thinkers most fundamentally, although they share a common inter-

est in the practical effects that corne out of the supra-sensible

experience of the Way. The same difference may also be formulated

in terms of upward movement and downward movement. Lao-tzu

tries to describe metaphysically how the absolute Absolute

develops naturally into One, and how the One develops into Two,

and the Two into Three, and the Three into 'ten thousand things' .26

It is mainly a description of an ontological - or emanational -

movement downward, though he emphasizes also the importance of

the concept of Return, i.e., the returning process of all things back

to their origin. Chuang-tzu is interested in describing epistemologi-

cally the rising movement of the human mind from the world of

multiplicity and diversity up to the ontological plane where all

distinctions become merged into One.

Because of this particular emphasis on the epistemological aspect

of the experience of the tao, Chuang-tzu does not take the trouble of

developing the concept itself of tao as a philosophical system. 

This is

why bis metaphysics of tao appears imperf ect, or imperfectly

developed. This, however, does not necessarily mean that he rep-

resents chronologically an earlier stage than Lao-tzu. For, as we

have just seen, the difference between them may very well be only

the difference of emphasis.

Toshihiko Izutsu Sufism And Taoism P1.Ch17XVII The Magical Power of the Perfect Man

 SUFISM AND TAOISM: A Comparative Study of Key Philosophical Concepts

by Toshihiko Izutsu 1983

First published 1983 by Iwanami Shoten, Publishers, Tokyo
This edition is published by The University of California Press, 1984,
Rev. ed. of: A comparative study of the key philosophical concepts in Sufism and Taoism. 1966-67.

=====

Contents

Preface by T. Izutsu

Introduction

Part I - Ibn 'Arabi

1 Dream and Reality

II The Absolute in its Absoluteness

III The Self-knowledge of Man

IV Metaphysical Unification and Phenomenal Dispersion

V Metaphysical Perplexity

VI The Shadow of the Absolute

VII The Divine Nam es

VIII Allah and the Lord

IX Ontological Mercy

X The Water of Life

XI The Self-manifestation of the Absolute

XII Permanent Archetypes

XIII Creation

XIV Man as Microcosm

XV The Perfect Man as an Individual

XVI Apostle, Prophet, and Saint

XVII The Magical Power of the Perfect Man

Part II - Lao-Tzii & Chuang-Tzu

I Lao-Tzu and Chuang-Tzu

II From Mythopoiesis to Metaphysics

III Dream and Reality

IV Beyond This and That

V The Birth of a New Ego

VI Against Essentialism

VII The Way

VIII The Gateway of Myriad Wonders

IX Determinism and Freedom

X Absolute Reversai of Values

XI The Perfect Man

XII Homo Politicus

Part III - A Comparative Reftection 

I Methodological Preliminaries

II The Inner Transformation of Man

III The Multistratified Structure of Reality

IV Essence and Existence

V The Self-evolvement of Existence

===

XVII The Magical Power of the Perfect

Man

Ibn 'Arabi recognizes in the Perfect Man a particular kind of magi-

cal power. This is hardly to be wondered at, because the Perfect

Man, as a 'knower' ('arif), is by definition a man with an unusually

developed spiritual power. His mind naturally shows an extraordi-

nary activity.

This extraordinary power is known as himmah, meaning a con-

centrated spiritual energy. According to Ibn' Arabi, a 'knower' can,

if he likes, affect any abject by merely concentrating all his spiritual

energy upon it; he can even bring into existence a thing which is not

actually existent. In brief, a 'knower' is able to subjugate anything to

his will. He is endowed with the power of taskhir. 1

The word taskhir reminds us of King Salomon. It is widely known

and accepted in Islam that Salomon was in possession of a super-

natural power by which he could dominate Nature and move it at

will. He could, for instance, cause winds to blow in whatever direc-

tion he wished. He is said to have been able to contrai at will

invisible beings.

According to Ibn 'Arabi, however, Salomon did not exercise his

contrai over Nature by his himmah. In this respect, Salomon

occupies a very special place. It was a special favor of God granted

to him in a peculiar way. For, in order to work miracles, he did not

have to have recourse to the particular concentration of mind

known as himmah. He had only to 'command' ( amr). Whatever was

commanded by him to do anything, moved immediately as it was

commanded. This kind of taskhir is, in the judgment of Ibn' Arabi, a

degree higher than the taskhir by himmah, because the former is a

direct working upon the abject.

The taskhïr which was peculiar to Solomon, which made him superior

to others, and which God had given him as (an essential) part of the

kingship never to be given to anybody after him - this taskhïr was

characterized by its being exercised by his 'command'. God says:

'Thus have We subjugated to him (i.e., Solomon) the wind so that it

might blow by his command (XXI, 81) (That which is really

lii1

11

1

11

1

276 Sufism and Taoism

characteristic of Solomon' s case) is not the simple fact that he could

exercise taskhir. For God says concerning ail of us without any

discrimination: 'And We have subjugated to you ail that are in

heaven and in earth' (XXXI, 20). Thus He speaks of having put

under our control winds, stars, and others. But (in our case) the

taskhir occurs not by our command, but by the Command of God. So

you will find by reflection that what was peculiar to Solomon was (not

the taskhïr itself) but in fact that (the taskhïr) could be exercised by

his own command. In order to do that, he did not need any mental

concentration or himmah; ail he had to do was to 'command'.

I mention this point specifically because we ail know that the things of

the world can be affected and influenced by a particular kind

of mental force when the latter happens to be in a heightened state of

concentration. I have witnessed this phenomenon in my own (mysti-

cal) life. Solomon, however, had only to pronounce the word of

command to anything he wanted to control, without there being any

need for himmah and concentration. 2

What kind of thing, then, is this spiritual concentration called him-

mah? It may be most easily understood if we try to conceive it on the

analogy of our ordinary experience of imagination. We can produce

in imagination anything we like, even things that are not existent in

the outside world. Such an imagined abject exists only within our

minds. In a somewhat similar way, a true 'knower' who has attained

to the stage of walayah is able to produce by his concentrated

spiritual power things that are not actually there, with this differ-

ence, however, that he produces the object in the outer world of

reality. This is obviously a kind of 'creation' (khalq). But it should

not be identified or confused with the Divine act of creation.

Anybody can create within his mind by means of his faculty of

imagination things that have no existence except in imagination

itself. This is a matter of common experience. But the 'knower'

creates by himmah things that do have existence outside the place of

the himmah (i.e., outside the mind).

(However, the object thus created by himmah continues to exist)

only as long as the himmah maintains it without being weakened by

the keeping of what it has created. As soon as the concentration

slackens and the mind of the 'knower' becomes distracted from the

keeping of what it has created, the object created disappears. This,

however, does not apply to those special cases in which a 'knower'

has obtained a firm control over ail the Presences ( ontological levels

of Being) so that his mind never loses sight of them ail at the same

time. In fact, the mind of such a man ( even if it loses sight of the

Presences, does not lose sight of ail together); there surely remains at

least one Presence present to his mind. 3

We must recall at this juncture the five Presences of Being to which

reference was made in the first chapter. The Presences are classified

variously. One of the classifications, to give an example of

The Magical Power of the Perfect Man 277

classification which is a little different from the one explained in the

first chapter, makes the whole world of Being consist of ( 1) the

Presence of the senses (i.e., the plane of the sensible experience),

(2) the Presence of Images-Exemplars, (3) the Presence of the

Spirits (arwah ), ( 4) the Presence of the Intellects ('uqül), and the

Presence of the Essence. But the way in which the Presences are

classified is not very important in the present context. What is of

primary importance is to know that the world of Being is structured

in terms of levels or planes and that these planes are related to each

other in an organic way. This means that anything that exists in the

plane of sensible experience, for instance, has a corresponding

existence also in the higher planes in a particular form peculiar to

each plane, so that ultimately it goes back to the very Essence of the

Absolute as its ontological ground.

Because of this particular structure of Being, the' knower' can, by

concentrating his entire spiritual energy upon an object on one of

the suprasensible levels, produce the object in a sensible form on

the level of concrete reality. Also by maintaining spiritually the

form of an object on a higher level he can maintain the forms of the

same object on the lower levels of Being.

But this spiritual 'creation' is essentially different from the Divine

Creation in one vital point. When, for example, the 'knower' has

produced by himmah an object in a sensible form, the object thus

'created' on the level of sensible experience continues to subsist on

that level only during the time in which he continues to maintain his

spiritual concentration. The moment his attention becomes less

keen by the effect of drowsiness or by a different idea occurring to

his mind, the object ceases to exist on the level of the senses.

However, Ibn' Arabi adds, in the case of the highest 'knower', his

spiritual power dominating all the basic five planes of Being, there is

always at least one level on which the spiritual concentration is

maintained even if his attention becomes less keen and less intense

on other levels. In such a case, the object 'created' may be preserved

for a long period of time.

By saying this, I have disdosed a secret which the people of God (i.e.,

mystics) have always jealously guarded themselves from revealing

for fear that something might corne to light which would contradict

their daim to the effect that they are the Absolute. (Against this

daim I have disdosed the fact that) the Absolute never becomes

forgetful of anything, white man must necessarily be always forgetful

of this particular thing or that.

Only as long as a man spiritually maintains what he has 'created', is he

in a position to say, 'I am the Creator!' (ana al-f}aqq). However, his

maintaining the 'created' object is entirely different from God's

maintaining. I have just explained the difference.

278 Sufism and Taoism

As long as he becomes forgetful of even one form and its ontological

level, man is to be distinguished from the Absolu te. He is naturally to

be distinguished from the Absolu te even if he main tains all the forms

(of an object on different levels) by maintaining one of the forms on

its proper level of which he happens to be unforgetful, because this is

after alla kind of'implicit' (tacf,ammun) maintaining. God's maintain-

ing what He has created is not like this; He maintains every form

'explicitly' (i.e., He maintains all forms of the thing, each on its

proper level individually).

This is a question which no one, as far as 1 know, has even written in

any book, neither myself nor others. This is the only and the first

book in which (the secret has been disclosed). The present work is in

this sense a unique pearl of the age. Keep this well in mind!

The particular level of Being4 to which the mind of the 'knower' is

kept present, being concentrated on the form (of an object which he

has created on that ontological level), may be compared to the 'Book'

of which God says: 'We have not neglected anything in the Book (of

Decrees)' (VI, 38), so that it comprehends both what has been

actualized and what has not yet been actualized. But what 1 say here

will never be understood except by those who are themselves the

'gathering' principle ( qur' iin). 5

Thus it has been clarified that a man who can gather his himmah in

such a comprehensive way is able to do so because he 'gathers'

together in his consciousness all the levels of Being into a com-

prehensive unity. Such a man stands closest to God, with the only

difference which has just been explained. The difference, in short,

results from the furqan. And precisely because of the furqan he is

essentially distinguished from God.

The important point, however, is that this 'separating' is not an

ordinary furqan. It is the highestfurqan (arfa' furqan) 1 because it is

a furqan after the 'gathering'. In the case of an ordinary man, the

'separating' which he exercises is a pre-fana' phenomenon; he has

not yet had any experience of 'self-annihilation', that is, he has not

yet 'tasted' his essential oneness with the Absolute. The 'separating'

he exercises in such a state is an absolute, unconditional 'separa-

tion'. He is absolutely and unconditionally 'separated' and distin-

guished' from the Absolute.

The 'knower', on the contrary, is a man who has already passed

through the experience of 'self-annihilation' and, consequently,

knows through personal experience his essential oneness with the

Absolu te. He knows it, and yet distinguishes in himself between the

'Divine aspect' (lahüt) and the 'human aspect' (nasüt), i.e., between

the Absolute and the creature. This 'separating' is not a mere

'separating'; it is a 'separating' of a higher order. And this corres-

ponds to what is generally known in Sufi terminology as 'self-

subsistence' (baqa').

The Magical Power of the Perfect Man 279

Now, if we consider in the light of this conception the idea of

himmah, we are led to the following understanding of it. The highest

'knower', while he is actually exercising his himmah, is in a certain

sense a 'creator' (khaliq); all the traces of his 'servant-ness' disap-

pear from his consciousness, and he feels 'Lordship' living and

acting in himself. He f eels himself to be a 'Lord', and has the clear

consciousness that everything in the whole world is under his con-

trai. This is the stage of 'gathering' (qur' an). However, this state is

but a temporary and unstable one, because if his mind slackens and

loses its highest intensity of concentration even for a moment, he

becomes immediately conscious of his 'impotence' ('ajz) and is

necessarily faced with his own 'servantness'. And this is the stage of

'separating' (furqan). 8

We must observe also that himmah is, in its practical aspect, a free

disposai of things (taskhir al-ashya'), while in its cognitive aspect it

is an extraordinary power to penetrate the secret of Being which lies

beyond the grasp of Reason. It is significant in this respect that Ibn

'Arabï in a passage of the declares that the true reality

(IJ,aqiqah) of Being can only be known by a 'servant endowed with

himmah'. Himmah consists essentially in that a 'knower' concen-

trates all his spiritual powers upon one single point and projects his

concentrated heart (qalb) toward a certain definite direction. This

act works in two different, but closely related, ways: (1) producing

something or some state of affairs in a place where such a thing or

state of affairs does not sensibly exist, and (2) tearing apart the veil

of Reason and bringing to light the reality lying behind it.

The supernatural power of himmah being as described, the next

question that naturally arises is: Does the 'knower', i.e., the Perfect

Man, work 'miracles' (karamat) as he likes?

According to the usual theory among Sufis, a 'knower' who has

reached the stage of 'saintship' is in a position to perform 'things

that go against the customs' (khawariq-al- 'adat), i.e., 'miracles'.

Such a man is usually represented as a kind of superman who,

projecting his spiritual power to anything and an y body, affects and

changes the abject at will.

Ibn' Arabï does not accept this view. In the Qoran, he argues, 10

we find the Divine words: 'God is He who creates you of weakness'

(XXX, 54). The very root of man's creation is 'weakness' (<J,a'f).

Man is essentially and naturally 'weak' (<J,a'ïf) and 'powerless'

('ajiz). He begins with the weakness of the infant and ends with the

weakness of the old man. Of course, as the Qoran verse itself

admits, 11 the child, as he grows into a man, acquires 'strength'

(quwwah) and becomes conscious of his own strength. But this,

after ail, is a transitory state. Soon he grows old and falls into

11

1

280 Sujism and Taoism

decrepitude. Besides, the 'strength' which he obtains in the inter-

mediary stage is but an 'accidentai strength' (quwwah 'ara<J,iyah).

Moreover, this accidentai strength is not something which he pro-

duces in himself, but is a result of God's 'putting'. In reality, he

shows strength only because he happens to be at that stage a locus of

theophany in which God manifests Himself under the Name

'Powerful' ( qawiy).

What is by essence strong is the Absolute alone; man is strong

only by accident. Ordinary men do not know this. Only the true

'knower' knows that the strength (including himmah) which he feels

in himself is not his own but God's.

And since he is conscious of this, the 'knower' knows also that it is

not right for him to try to exercise at will the power of himmah. Thus

he confides its exercise to the real owner of that power, and puts

himself in the original state of the 'absolute powerlessness' ('ajz

mutfaq).

Someone may say: 'What prevents (the highest 'knower') from exer-

cising his himmah that has a positive power to affect things? Since

such a power does exist even in those mystics who merely follow the

Apostles, the Apostles must be more appropriate to possess it'.

To this 1 will answer: 'You are certainly right. But you do not know

another important point. A true "knowledge" does not allow him-

mah to be freely exercised. And the higher the knowledge, the less

possibility there is for a free exercise of himmah'.

And this for two reasons. One is that such a man fully realizes his

state of 'servant-ness' and that he is always conscious of the original

ground of his own creation (which is the above-mentioned 'weak-

ness'). The other is the oneness of the subject who exercises himmah

and the object upon which it is exercised (for both are essentially and

ultimately the Absolute, nothing else), so that he does not know upon

whom to project his himmah. This prevents him from exercising

himmah. 12

Tuen Ibn' Arabi says 13 that another reason for which the 'knower'

refrains from working 'miracles' in the world is the knowledge

about the absolute determining power of the permanent

archetypes, which we have discussed in detail in an earlier chapter.

Suppose there is in the presence of the 'knower' a man who

disobeys the commands of the Apostle and thereby disobeys God.

Why does the 'knower' not exercise his himmah upon this man so

that he might be brought back to the right road? It is because

everything, every event in the world is in accordance with what has

been eternally determined in the form of an or

archetypes. The 'knower' knows that this ontological determination

can never be changed. In the eyes of a man who has penetrated into

the depth of the structure of Being, everything follows the track

The Magical Power of the Perfect Man 281

fixed by the very nature of Being, and nothing can deviate from it. In

the light of this knowledge, even a man disobedient to God is

walking along the God-determined way. And it is not in the power

of an Apostle to bring such a man back to the 'right road', because

the man is already on the 'right road'.

A certain Sufi of the highest rank once said to Mas ter 'Abd al-

Razzâq: Go and ask Master Abü Madyan, after salutations, 'O Abü

Madyan, why is it that nothing is impossible tous, while everything is

impossible to you? And yet here we are, aspiring to your spiritual

stage, while you do not care for our spiritual stage. Why?' 14

In fact, the situation was exactly like that (i.e., Abü Madyan really

showed signs of'powerlessness') in spite of the fact that Abü Madyan

had, beside this state (i.e. the state of 'powerlessness'), the other state

(i.e., that of free disposai of things by means of himmah).

We (i.e., Ibn' Arabi himself) are even more complete as regards the

state of 'weakness' and 'powerlessness'. But ( even though Abü

Madyan did not show so much of 'weakness' as we do) the afore-

mentioned Sufi of the highest rank said to him what he said. (How

much more should we be worthy of such a remark, if the same Sufi

were to criticize us.) In any event, however, Abü Madyan's case

clearly exemplifies that kind of thing (i.e., the showing of 'weakness'

because of a deep knowledge of the truth).15

Ibn 'Arabi goes on to argue that even this state of 'weakness' or

refraining from exercising himmah should not properly be taken as

a willful act on the part of the 'knower'. The true 'knower' puts

himself entirely in the hands of God; if He commands him to

exercise his himmah he does, if He forbids him to do so he refrains

from it, and if God Himself gives him a choice between the two he

chooses refraining from the exercise of himmah.

Abu al-Su'üd (Ibn al-Shibl) once said to his followers: Verily God

gave me the power of the free disposai of things fifteen years ago. But

I have refrained from exercising that power for the sake of courtesy

(tazarrufan) toward God.

This saying implies too much bold familiarity ( toward God). I myself

do not refrain from exercising himmah for the sake of courtesy,

because such an attitude would imply a willful choice on my part. No.

I refrain from it because of the perfection of knowledge. The true

knowledge of the matter does not require refraining from the exer-

cise of himmah by way of willful choice. Whenever a 'knower' does

exercise his himmah in this world, he does soin obedience to a Divine

Command; that is to say, he does so because he is constrained to do

so, not by way of willful choice. 16

The position of an Apostle regarding this problem of 'refraining' is

somewhat more delicate than that of a Saint.17 Properly speaking

the fonction itself of' apostleship' requires his exercising himmah in

282 Sufism and Taoism

order that his being an Apostle be made clear to the people. For

only when he is accepted as such by the community, is he able to

spread the true religion of God. The Saint perse has nothing to do

with such a mission.

And yet, even the Apostle (Mul)ammad) did not try to show

prophetic 'miracles' (mu'jizat). For one thing, he refrained from

exercising his himmah because of his compassion for the people. He

did not go to extremes in ma nif esting the conclusive evidence of his

'apostleship' because it would have brought destruction to them. He

spared them by not showing them too strong evidences of his

'apostleship'. Besides this, Mul)ammad had another reason shared

by all true Saints for refraining from working miracles; namely, his

knowledge that a 'miracle' can never change the eternally fixed

course of events. Whether a man becomes a Muslim or not is

determined by his archetype; it is not something which can easily be·

changed by the Apostle accomplishing before his eyes a 'miracle'.

Thus even the most perfect of all Apostles (akmal al-rusul),

Mul)ammad, did not exercise himmah. There was actually a practi-

cal need for showing 'miracles', and he was unquestionably

endowed with such a power. And yet he did not exercise his spiritual

power in that way. For, being the highest 'knower', he knew better

than anybody else that 'miracles' were, in truth, .ineffective.

The most ideal state of the Perfect Man is a spiritual tranquility and

quietude of an unfathomable depth. He is a quiet man content with

a passivity in which he confides himself and every thing else to God's

disposai. The Perfect Man is a man who, having in himself a tre-

mendous spiritual power and being adorned with the highest know-

ledge of Being, gives the impression of a deep cairn ocean. He is

such because he is the most perf ect image, in a concrete individual

form, of the cosmic Perfect Man who comprehends and actualizes

all the Names and Attributes of the Absolute.

Notes

1. Taskhir literally means 'forcing somebody to compulsory service, controlling

something at will'. In discussing the problem of the 'compulsory' force of the

permanent archetypes we have already corne across the word taskhir in the form of a

'mutual taskhir' between the Absolute and the world.

2. Fu.!i., p. 199/158.

3. Fu$., p. 90/88-89.

4. Again Ibn' Arabï goes back to the case in which the' knower' main tains spiritually

all the forms of an object on all the levels of Being by actually concentrating on one of

the levels.

The Magical Power of the Perfect Man 283

5. Fu.!i ., p. 91189-90.

6. On the difference between 'gathering' (qur'àn) and 'separating' (fu.rqàn) see

above, Chapter II.

7. Fu.!i., p. 91190.

8. Cf. Fu.!i., p. 92/90.

9. Fu.!i., p. 148/121.

10. Fu.!i., p. 156/127.

11. The verse reads: 'God is He who creates you of weakness, then puts (ja'ala) after

weakness strength (quwwah), then again puts weakness after strength.'

12. Fu.!i., p. 157/127-128.

13. Fu.!i., pp. 157-158/128.

14. It means: We can freely accomplish 'miracles', but you apparently cannot. And

yet we want to attain to your spiritual stage, while you do not show any sign of being

desirous of attaining to our spiritual stage.

15. Fu.!i., p. 158/129.

16. Fu.!i., p. 159/129-130.

17. ibid.