2023/08/12

Komjathy. Daoist Tradition: 7. Virtue, Ethics and Conduct Guidelines

   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

==
7 Virtue, ethics, and conduct guidelines
 
 
Generally speaking, virtue relates to moral excellence. By extension, it refers to particular virtues, that is, qualities and characteristics valued as promoting individual and collective wellbeing. As discussed below, “virtue” as been used as one translation of the Daoist technical term de, or the ways in which the Dao manifests through specific beings. Associated with one’s character and integrity, morality generally refers to a sense of conduct that differentiates intentions, decisions, and actions between those that are beneficial (“good” or “right”) and those that are detrimental (“bad” or “wrong”). Ethics technically refers to a branch of philosophy or a type of philosophical reflection that addresses questions about morality. In the present chapter, ethics designates both one’s moral condition and views concerning virtue, especially virtuous conduct. Ethics may, in turn, be understood as one expression of religious doctrine and practice. In the case of religious traditions, ethics direct our attention to behavioral models as well as religious commitments and obligations.
Throughout the Daoist tradition, there has been and remains a strong concern for virtue and ethics. Like dietetics, ethics is often considered a necessary prerequisite for more advanced training. This is so much the case that many Daoists have claimed that meditation or ritual without an ethical foundation will be fruitless. In the context of organized Daoism, such values and commitments are most often expressed in the form of precepts and conduct guidelines. These range from proscriptions against certain kinds of behaviors, whether expressed in thought, speech, or action, to prescriptions for alternative ways of being, for modes that may contribute to personal, interpersonal, and transpersonal flourishing. They include admonitions, injunctions, and resolutions. They challenge one to reflect on the possibility of human goodness, social welfare, and even ecological synergy. Some Daoist precepts have community-and place-specific dimensions. Others cover the entire spectrum of Daoist religious life, including physical and material dimensions such as clothing, eating, and hygiene.
In this chapter, I first discuss classical and foundational Daoist views on de, “virtue” or “inner power.” I then present community-based views. The latter characterization should not give the impression that the inner cultivation lineages, members of classical Daoism, do not qualify as a religious community (see Chapters 1–4); it rather suggests that formal Daoist conduct guidelines were first composed in the context of early organized Daoism, the moment when Daoism became characterized by more complex social organization and larger numbers of adherents (see Chapter 4). The community-based views section is followed by the presentation of types of ethical commitments and specific conduct guidelines. Considered historically and contextually, careful inquiry into and understanding of Daoist ethics reveals a close connection with the “ways to affiliation” covered in Chapter 3. There are different types of Daoist religious adherence, and these frequently have increasing degrees of commitment and responsibility. One thus finds precepts that are specifically intended for lay adherents, householders, ordained priests, monastics, and immortals. Virtue is one way in which Daoist ethical commitments and responsibility become embodied in the world. This chapter in turn represents the beginning of the “practice chapters,” although ethics could also be considered a dimension of Daoist worldviews, especially those related to foundational values, concerns, and commitments (see Chapter 5). In combination with Chapters 9 through 13, and pilgrimage related to Daoist sacred sites (Chapter 14), this chapter reveals some of the contours of committed Daoist practice.

1] Classical and foundational Daoist views

On the most basic level, Daoist ethics views human beings as innately “good.” When aligned and attuned with the Dao, when free of social conditioning, familial obligation, and personal habituation, human beings are naturally ethical. Throughout the pages of classical Daoist texts, one encounters the Daoist technical term de, which may be translated as “virtue” (in the sense of one’s entire character or personhood including the capacity for moral excellence) or more appropriately as “inner power” (in the sense of one’s innate capacity to become an embodiment of the Dao).1 It is an innate potential, but a key question involves how de becomes manifest. Is it recognized, discovered, realized, actualized, cultivated, or perfected? If we are already de, then is there anything that really must be done? These types of questions intersect with other classical Daoist concerns such as non-action (wuwei ), suchness (ziran), and innate nature (xing) (see Chapter 5).
Under one etymological reading, the character de 德 consists of chi 彳 (“step”) and zhi 直 (“direct,” “straight,” “upright,” “correct”) over xin 心 (“heart-mind”): To be virtuous is to have an aligned heart-mind that is expressed as embodied activity, activity that reveals one’s degree of selfcultivation and exerts a transformational influence on others. De (“virtue” or “inner power”) is the Dao manifested in human beings as numinous presence and as embodied activity in the world, especially as a beneficial and transformational influence that might be categorized as “good.” From this perspective, “morality” and “ethics” are natural outcomes of Daoist practice, natural expressions of Daoist ontological conditions or ways of being.
Reflection on de was a pan-Chinese preoccupation during the Warring States period to Early Han dynasty, not limited to Daoists (see Schwartz 1985; Graham 1989). However, the inner cultivation lineages of classical Daoism did develop specifically Daoist views on de, which paralleled their unique conception of dao and often included a critique of Confucianism and Legalism.

VIRTUE BEYOND MORALISM AND
LEGALISM

The highest virtue is not virtuous; In this way, it remains virtuous. The lowest virtue never loses virtue; In this way, it lacks virtue.
The highest virtue manifests through non-action, And through this is free from effortful activity.
The lowest virtue acts upon things,
And through this is filled with effortful activity.
(Daode jing, Chapter 38; see also Zhuangzi, Chapter 32)
***
After the great Dao was abandoned,
Humaneness and righteousness appeared. After knowledge and cleverness arose, Great hypocrisy appeared. After the six relationships lost harmony, Filial piety and familial kindness appeared. After the state fell into chaos and disorder, Loyal ministers appeared. (ibid., Chapter 18)
From a classical Daoist perspective, virtue that demands to be recognized as “virtue” indicates the absence of true virtue. Authentic virtue requires neither recognition nor reward. It is the natural expression of one’s being beyond egoistic limitations. Moreover, “morality,” in the sense of concern for and discussion of “virtues” and “moral obligations,” indicates that humans have lost their original alignment: a situation that requires discussion of morality and ethics indicates the absence of such qualities. The teachings of the “venerable masters” collected in the Daode jing, in turn, encourage people to discard sagehood and learning (Chapters 19 and 20) and to renounce violence and legalistic coercion (Chapters 46, 74 and 75).
From a Daoist perspective, therefore, de does not refer to conventional morality, understood as a received set of social norms demanding conformity. De may be distorted through education, social systems, and power structures. Rather, de is the way in which the Dao manifests as embodied activity in the world. Although there are recognizable patterns of de, individuals frequently manifest de in their own unique way, and there is much diversity with respect to individual expressions of de. To fit oneself into the mold of another’s de is to distance oneself from the Dao. In this way, one may think of “virtue” or “inner power” along the lines of a cognate Chinese character de 得 (“to attain”), in the sense of “realizing the Dao” (dedao).

INNER POWER AS ALIGNMENT WITH
THE DAO

Thus we may consider this qi— It cannot be controlled by force,
But it can be stabilized through inner power (de).
It cannot be expressed in sound,
But it can be welcomed through awareness. Reverently guard it and do not lose it:
We call this “completing inner power.”
When inner power is complete and insight emerges, The ten thousand beings will be realized. (“Neiye,” Chapter 2)
***
A complete heart-mind at the center Cannot be concealed or hidden.
It will be known through your appearance; It will be seen in the color of your skin.
If you encounter others with this exceptional qi, They will be kinder to you than your brothers. If you encounter others with harmful qi, They will injure you with their weapons.
The reverberation of the wordless
Is more rapid than the drumming of thunder. The shape of the qi and the heart-mind Is more luminous than the sun and moon. (ibid., Chapter 18)
Classical Daoist methods for “realizing the Dao” and manifesting inner power (de) are rooted in apophatic meditation (see Chapter 11). By stilling the heart-mind and emptying it of emotional and intellectual activity, one returns to one’s innate nature, which is the Dao. The above passages from the fourth-century BCE “Neiye” (Inward Training) chapter of the Guanzi show how inner power relates to both qi and the heart-mind. One’s inner power, one’s attunement with the Dao, becomes complete when qi and the heart-mind are pure. Inner power in turn manifests as a recognizable energetic quality that pervades the Daoist adept’s psychosomatic being and emanates through his or her skin, pores, and hair.
Classical texts often avoid discussion of specific virtues, possibly out of concern that people will mistake the outcome for the practice, but there are some hints.
 
QUALITIES AND EXPRESSIONS OF
INNER POWER

Know the male, but guard the female— Become the streambed of the world.
Becoming the streambed of the world, Constant inner power does not separate.
Return to a condition of childhood. Know the white, but guard the black— Become the pattern of the world.
Becoming the pattern of the world,
Constant inner power does not deviate.
Return to a condition of non-differentiation. Know honor, but guard disgrace— Become the valley of the world.
Becoming the valley of the world,
Constant inner power is then sufficient.
Return to a condition of simplicity. (Daode jing, Chapter 28)
Here Daoists are instructed to apply lessons learned from observing “water” (shui ), “streambeds” (xi ), “valleys” (gu), “uncarved blocks” (pu), and “vessels” (qi ) (see, e.g. Daode jing, Chapters 8 and 78; Zhuangzi, Chapter 17; also Allan 1997; Girardot et al. 2001). Inner power emulates the qualities of water such as acceptance, emptiness, flexibility, inclusiveness, lowliness, non-differentiation, receptivity, simplicity, and unhindered movement.
Members of the classical inner cultivation lineages often speak of those who have achieved excellence in embodying Dao and manifesting inner power as sages (shengren). Sages are free of unnecessary discrimination and obstructing influences; they embrace what is and activate the spiritual insight contained in the heart-mind (Daode jing, Chapers 4 and 56). They develop groundedness in place, depth in perspective, kindness in assistance, sincerity in speech, regulation in rectification, aptitude in action, and appropriateness in responsiveness (Chapter 8). They embody attentiveness, carefulness, impeccability, expansiveness, sincerity, vastness, and connectedness (Chapter 15); and they cultivate the “three treasures” of compassion, frugality, and deference or humility (Chapter 67).
The Zhuangzi describes such people as obtaining “utmost inner power” (zhide).
UTMOST INNER POWER
“Those who understand the Dao fully comprehend the principles. By fully comprehending the principles, one illuminates circumstances. By illuminating circumstances, one does not allow things to harm oneself. When one has utmost inner power, fire cannot burn, water cannot drown, cold and heat cannot afflict, birds and animals cannot injure. I’m not saying that one makes light of such things. I mean that such a person distinguishes safety and danger, remains calm amidst fortune and misfortune, and is careful in arriving and departing. Therefore nothing can harm one.” (Zhuangzi, Chapter 17; see also Chapter 5, 9, 12, 15, and 22)
This passage suggests that the fulfillment of Daoist practice results in specific abilities and benefits (see also Daode jing, Chapters 50 and 55; Roth 1999a: 99–123). Sages avoid injury and become free from despair derived from the oscillations of life.
Famous exemplars of inner power in the Zhuangzi include, among others, Master Zhuang himself, who knows the way to the Village of Nothing-Whatsoever (Chapter 1) and the joy of fish (Chapter 17); Changwuzi (Master Enduring Hibiscus), who knows how to tuck the universe under his arm and instructs on the Great Awakening (Chapter 2); Cook Ding, who cuts apart an ox with complete effortlessness (Chapter 3); Nüyu (Woman Yu), who teaches a stage-based training regimen that results in freedom from the bounds of life and death (Chapter 6); Huzi (Gourd Master), who, in emptiness, allows the not-yet-emerged-from-the-ancestral to manifest through him (Chapter 7); Liezi (Master Lie) and Guangchengzi (Master Expansive Completion), both of whom live in seclusion to cultivate the Dao (Chapters 7, 11, 28, and 32); Gengsang Chu, who commits himself to follow the teachings of Lao Dan and the Way of Heaven (Chapter 23); and Thief Zhi, who transcends the limitations of conventional, obligationbased morality and turns Kongzi’s (Confucius’) mind inside out (Chapter 29).
While most classical Daoist discussions of de focus on human beings, there are a few passages that indicate that every being has the potential to manifest the Dao. Examples in the Zhuangzi include the Great Peng-bird, which wanders carefree above the cares of the world (Chapter 1); an ancient, gnarled tree, which teaches the value of uselessness (Chapters 1, 4, and 20); fish, which flow with the currents, abide in the shadows, and rest at ease with their place in water (Chapters 6 and 17); magpies and wasps, which embody the Dao’s transformative process (Chapter 14); tortoises, which enjoy dragging their tails in the mud (Chapter 17); and sea turtles, which have the experience of swimming in the ocean’s vastness (ibid.). That is, animals, simply by living and by being (“naturalness”), are embodiments of the Dao (Komjathy 2011f). Some early Daoists also engaged in practices that involved imitating the movements of specific animals (see Chapter 10 herein).

2] Community-based Daoist views

As the Daoist tradition transitioned from loosely connected religious communities to a more formal organized religion in the Later Han dynasty, Daoists developed diverse views on virtue and morality as well as more formal ethical systems. While members of the inner cultivation lineages primarily emphasized a “meditative model” (see Chapters 1 and 11 herein), members of early organized Daoism developed an “ethical model,” wherein ethical reflection and application became a means to return to the Dao.
Since the notion of returning to the Dao was also linked with avoiding harm and possessing long life, Daoist ethics became connected with understandings of illness and disease. In particular, the early Tianshi community linked illness with moral transgression, and identified immorality as a potential source of disease. This conception of disease also included ancestral and demonological components, as early Tianshi sources indicate that moral transgressions undermine one’s innate protective capacities and expose the individual to malevolent entities and noxious influences. The sick were, in turn, sent to “pure chambers” (jingshi ), where they meditated on their mistakes and purified themselves. They acknowledged their moral failures, vowed not to commit the offense again, and performed acts of atonement. At the same time, community leaders, called libationers (see Chapters 2 and 4), performed purification and exorcistic rituals, which involved sending petitions to the Three Bureaus (sanguan) of the heavens, earth, and water. An early commentary on the Sanguo zhi (Record of the Three Kingdoms) documents this view.

SICKNESS AND MORAL TRANSGRESSIONS

[Libationers] were responsible for praying for the sick. The ritual of prayer involved writing down the sick person’s name, including a confession of his or her moral transgressions. Three sets were made. One was sent up to the heavens and was placed on a mountain. One was buried in the earth. The last was submerged in water. These were called the “handwritten documents of the Three Bureaus.” (8: 265; adapted from Nickerson 1997: 232)
By burning, burying, and submerging the petitions to the heavens, earth, and water, respectively, the sick person’s transgressions would be neutralized, and he or she would return to health. At the same time, one could avoid illness by maintaining virtue. One way that this was accomplished was through precept study and application. According to the Laozi xiang’er zhu (Commentary Thinking Through the Laozi; DH 56; S. 6825), an early Tianshi commentary on the Daode jing possibly composed by Zhang Lu (d. 215), the third Celestial Master, precept study and application had the potential to immunize one from moral transgression and sickness.

THE IMPORTANCE OF PRECEPT STUDY AND APPLICATION

Whenever human beings wish to undertake some action, they should first gauge it against the precepts of the Dao, considering it calmly to determine that the principles of their action do not contravene the Dao. Only then should they gradually pursue it, so that the way of life does not depart from them. (Bokenkamp 1997: 100)
Ethical reflection on and application of such conduct guidelines would ensure not only communal harmony, but also personal wellbeing. While one might be inclined to interpret this as a major departure from classical Daoist views, there is in fact some continuity. As examined above, Daoist cultivation, especially prior to Buddhist influences, has a psychosomatic dimension. Stated positively, strong Daoist adherence and deep practice would result in alignment with the Dao and manifest as personal wellbeing. Stated negatively, deficient practice, linked with immorality in the case of the early Tianshi community, would result in illness. Such psychosomatic perspectives also find a clear expression in later Yangsheng (“nourishing life”) practices (see Chapter 10).
Another major Daoist view related to the connection among virtue, health, and self-transformation emerged in internal alchemy (neidan), a type of physiological and energetic practice first systematized during the later Tang and early Song dynasties (see Chapters 7 and 11). Certain internal alchemy texts emphasize good health and good morals as “establishing the foundations” (zhuji ) for more advanced practices.

ETHICS AS FOUNDATIONAL DAOIST PRACTICE

“Perverse activities can diminish our lifespan and negatively impact our disposition and longevity in future incarnations … If we are fortunate, we will meet immortals who can help us lessen karmic retribution and guide our spirit into a different shell … If we cultivate ourselves while in a human form, we can become immortals … A being who is entirely yin with no yang is a ghost. A being who is entirely yang with no yin is an immortal. Humans are half yin and half yang. Thus they can become either ghosts or immortals.” (Chuandao ji, DZ 263,
14.1b–2a)
This passage suggests that human beings must refine themselves of negative characteristics and tendencies. From this perspective, alchemical transformation involves refining yin (negative) dimensions of self into their yang (positive) counterparts. With respect to ethics and “establishing the foundations,” it involves becoming completely virtuous.
Without a foundation of virtue and health, alchemical praxis is pointless. For example, aspiring adepts of Quanzhen Daoism were encouraged to develop a root in ethical reflection and application. Adherents committed themselves, first and foremost, to psychosomatic purification (see Komjathy 2007a). This included abandoning the Four Hindrances of alcohol, sex, greed, and anger; it involved sobriety, desirelessness, non-attachment, and inner serenity. In addition, drawing insights from Buddhist views of consciousness, early Quanzhen adepts attempted to cleanse themselves of the Three Poisons, Six Vexations, and Ten Deviances. The Three Poisons refer to anger, greed, and ignorance. The Six Vexations are covetousness, anger, ignorance, arrogance, doubt, and false views. The Ten Deviances are killing, stealing, sexual misconduct, lying, slander, coarse language, equivocating, coveting, anger, and false views. From a Quanzhen perspective, these are yin-qualities that distort one’s innate nature and hinder one’s alignment with the Dao. They are defilements of consciousness that must be transformed into their yangcounterparts. The alchemical endeavor, the process of becoming immortal and perfected, involves the movement from habituation to realization, from distortion to integration. For this, the cultivation and embodiment of virtue is one foundational dimension.
A similar perspective is expressed by Hsien Yuen (Xuan Yuan; b. ca. 1935), a Taiwanese immigrant Zhengyi priest and the head priest of the
American Taoist and Buddhist Association (ATBA; New York) (see Chapter 16 herein). In his The Taoism of the Sage Religion: Tan Ting Sitting Meditation, a text on Daoist internal alchemy, Hsien Yuen writes about “establishing a foundation” as the first step of a nine-stage process of alchemical transformation.

MERIT AND GOOD DEEDS

When studying, cultivating and practicing Tao through sitting meditation, the first step entails establishing a strong basis on which to build. Therefore, of primary importance is the need to fortify the Human Tao which includes loyalty, filial piety, [and] emulating the Heaven Tao by carrying out outer merits such as charity and contributions, doing good deeds, being patient, obeying discipline and regulations, sitting in pure and quiet meditation, non-emission of seminal essence, regulating diet, and controlling sleep and sexual desires. It is also necessary to limit labor activities as well as abandon illusions and desires in order to prepare for cultivating the Great Tao … If one does not cut off the five roots [desire for material possessions, sex, fame, good food and drink, and sleep] when cultivating Tao, it will be impossible to attain the Great Tao. (Hsien 1988, 31)

3] Types of ethical commitments

Daoist religious identity and affiliation involve various types of adherence, which include increasing degrees of commitment and responsibility. In all cases, however, virtue is key. Careful observation of human beings reveals high degrees of habituation, self-deception, and mass delusion that prevent them from realizing their innate virtue. Simply consider the ignorance of living conditions of animals in “feed-lots,” of workers in “sweat-shops,” and of individuals enslaved in the “sex-trade.” As the lessons of history and daily observation reveal, people can convince themselves of anything, even that the unethical is ethical.
Here a word is in order about the foundational Daoist values and concerns of “non-action” (wuwei ) and “suchness” (ziran) (see Chapter 5). There is much confusion about these terms, especially when interpreted as justification for some kind of laissez faire (“anything goes”) attitude, characterized by uninhibited personal fulfillment. Under this reading, wuwei and ziran contain implicit critiques of morality. However, from a Daoist perspective, the terms are intricately related: the practice of wuwei leads to a state of ziran. Wuwei is effortless activity, the practice of not doing anything extra or unnecessary; we may think of it in terms of conservation and non-attachment. In certain social and environmental contexts, it may be understood as “non-intervention” and “noninterference,” as letting be, as allowing space for existential freedom. Ziran (tzu-jan) is frequently translated as “self-so,” “naturalness,” or “spontaneity.” The latter two renderings are problematic if not interpreted contextually. Returning to or attaining the state of ziran, which is the Dao as such, presupposes four dimensions mentioned in Chapter 19 of the Daode jing: appearing plain, embracing simplicity, lessening personal interest, and decreasing desires. Ziran is not “going with the flow” in the sense of following one’s own selfish desires. Rather, it refers to an ontological condition beyond the limitations of egoistic identity. Ziran is best understood as “suchness,” or “being-so-of-itself,” to use a phrase from the
German philosopher Martin Heidegger (1889–1976). It is simultaneously one’s “natural” condition and the manifestation of the Dao through one’s being. However, too often wuwei is misunderstood as apathy or atrophy, while ziran is misunderstood as the reproduction of habituation. Within the Daoist tradition, there is actually much discussion of and different perspectives on the relationship between “fate” (ontological givenness) and freedom, or the capacity for independent action and the possibility and desirability of “perfection.” Wuwei involves allowing each being to unfold according to its own nature and connection with the Dao. It involves allowing space for ziran to appear. Applied to ethics, wuwei inspires one to stop doing everything that prevents one from being who one is and that inhibits other beings from expressing their innate condition with the Dao. Such a condition is characterized by virtue. For Daoists, it is possible to be “naturally ethical,” but that entails a corresponding transcendence of social conditioning, familial obligations, and personal habituation. It involves understanding the sources of desire. A lack of attentiveness to the condition of one’s core goodness also frequently results in acceptance of what should be rejected and rejection of what should be accepted.
Formal and fully systematized expressions of Daoist ethics center, first and foremost, on precepts (jie). On the most basic level, precepts relate to basic moral imperatives such as abstention from killing, and relate to internal judgment and awareness of what is right. These types of precepts are considered foundational and frequently occur across religious traditions and human cultures. Daoist precept texts also contain “prohibitions” (jin) and “taboos” (ji ). The former proscribe certain socially disruptive behaviors and focus on specific social actions and attitudes. Taboos have a cosmological dimension and center on space and time; they proscribe entering certain places or engaging in certain kinds of activities at defined times. The latter include abstaining from specific substances on taboo days or times. Refraining from eating eggs at the beginning of spring, the time of birth according to correlative cosmology (see Chapter 6 herein), is an example of a Daoist taboo. In addition to precepts, Daoist ethical guidelines and commitments include “admonitions” (quan), “injunctions” (ke; gui ), and “resolutions” (yuan). Admonitions are formulated as “should” and indicate a preferred course of action. Injunctions, also appearing as “dignified observances” (weiyi ) and “statutes” (lü), prescribe in detail how and when to perform a certain action. These types of ethical guidelines are framed as imperatives. In contrast, resolutions, also translatable as “vows” and appearing as “remembrances” (nian), are declarations of positive intent and personal guidelines for developing a cosmic attitude and mindset. Resolutions often include specific prayers, good wishes, as well as declarations of determination (Kohn 2004c: 2–6). Here it should also be mentioned that Daoist precept texts, especially those related to monastic life, developed under the influence of the Buddhist Vinaya (Monastic Codes), and many Daoist conduct manuals model themselves on earlier Buddhist texts. 

4] Conduct guidelines

In terms of Daoism as an organized religious tradition, the earliest extant precepts originated in the early Tianshi community and derive from passages in the Daode jing and from the Xiang’er commentary on the text. Both sets of precepts are preserved in the Taishang laojun jinglü (Scriptural Statutes of the Great High Lord Lao; DZ 786), a sixth-century CE Tianshi anthology. The Nine Practices are translated in Chapter 5 herein, and they may be understood as effortlessness, flexibility, receptivity, anonymity, serenity, aptitude, non-attachment, contentment, and deference. For anyone familiar with the Daode jing, the genius of the distillation is clear, and these prescriptive precepts reveal strong connections between classical Daoism and early organized Daoism. The “Twenty-seven Xiang’er Precepts” are proscriptive in nature. They include such commitments as not wasting qi (2), not seeking merit or fame (5), not forgetting the methods of the Dao
(7), not killing or speaking of killing (9), not being petty or easily provoked (15), and so forth (see Bokenkamp 1997; Kohn 2004c; Komjathy 2008a, v.
5). These precepts appear to have been communal commitments in the early Tianshi movement, that is, the entire community, regardless of rank, attempted to live according to them.
After Buddhism became more widely accepted in the larger Chinese society, specifically from about the fourth century onward, Daoists increasingly adopted the five precepts as the core of Daoist ethics. The five precepts include not killing, not stealing, not lying, not taking intoxicants, and not committing sexual misconduct, which means psychological and physical celibacy for monastics.

THE FIVE “DAOIST” PRECEPTS

1. The precept to abstain from killing belongs to the east [andthe Wood phase]. It embodies the qi of receiving life and presides over growth and nourishment. People who kill will receive corresponding injury to the liver.
2. The precept to abstain from stealing belongs to the north[and the Water phase]. It embodies the essence of greater yin and presides over resting and storing. People who steal will receive corresponding injury to the kidneys.
3. The precept to abstain from sexual misconduct belongs tothe west [and the Metal phase]. It embodies the substance of lesser yin and presides over men and women being pure and resolute. People who engage in sexual misconduct will receive corresponding injury to the lungs.
4. The precept to abstain from intoxicants belongs to the southand the Fire phase. It embodies the qi of greater yang and presides over completion. People who consume intoxicants will receive corresponding injury to the heart.
5. The precept to abstain from lying belongs to the center andthe Earth phase. Its virtue is honesty. People who lie receive corresponding injury to the spleen. (Laojun jiejing, DZ 784,
14a–15a; adapted from Kohn 2004c: 147–8)
These precepts come from the Taishang laojun jiejing (Precept Scripture of the Great High Lord Lao; DZ 784), a sixth-century CE Northern Celestial Masters text associated with Louguan (Lookout Tower Monastery; Zhouzhi, Shaanxi). Here we find Daoists interpreting the basic ethical system of Buddhism through correlative cosmology, the Five Phase correspondences of Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water (see Chapter 6 herein), and through specifically Daoist concerns. In terms of traditional Chinese cosmology, which was part of a pre-modern, pan-Chinese worldview, the Five Phases have the following correspondences: humaneness (Wood), respect (Fire), honesty (Earth), righteousness (Metal), and wisdom (Water). According to the above precepts, and paralleling the previous discussion of Daoist psychosomatic views, failure to follow each precept will result in a discernable malady of the corresponding organ: killing will injure the liver, stealing the kidneys, sexual misconduct the lungs, intoxicant consumption the heart, and lying the spleen.
As we know that the early Tianshi community included married priests and a hierarchically organized community, and as we know that sixthcentury Louguan Daoism was a key source-point for the emergence of Daoist monasticism (see Chapters 2 and 4), it is noteworthy that the Nine Practices, Xiang’er Precepts, and Five Precepts from Louguan are intended for every member of the Tianshi community without distinction. There were thus core Daoist ethical commitments for priests, monastics, and laity alike. At the same time, we find various examples of ethical guidelines that only pertain to community members with deeper commitments and responsibilities, especially those who endeavor to be exemplars of core values and ideals. For example, the “One Hundred and Eighty Precepts of Lord Lao,” often simply discussed as the “180 Precepts,” is most likely a fourth-century CE Tianshi set of conduct guidelines that was intended for libationers, high-ranking members and leaders of the Tianshi community. It first appears in the above-mentioned Taishang laojun jinglü. The text divides into one hundred and forty prohibitions, which are followed by forty admonitions (see Hendrischke and Penny 1996; Kohn 2004c). The One Hundred and Eighty Precepts of Lord Lao is seminal in Daoist religious history, as many other community codes incorporate its guidelines. In addition to emphasizing basic ethical commitments like the Five Precepts, the One Hundred and Eighty Precepts express distinctive and important Daoist ethical commitments.

SELECTIONS FROM THE ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY PRECEPTS
8. Do not raise pigs or sheep.
10. Do not eat garlic or the five strong smelling vegetables.
15. Do not use gold and silver for eating utensils.
16. Do not pursue learning about military and state affairs ordivine their good and bad fortune.
17. Do not wantonly get intimate with soldiers or brigands.
20. Do not have frequent audiences with the emperor or highofficials nor wantonly get intimate with them.
21. Do not slight and despise your disciples or cause disorderby wrongly favoring one over another.
25. Do not accumulate material goods and despise the orphaned and poor.
26. Do not eat alone.
28. Do not seek knowledge about other people’s marriages.
31. Do not speak about other people’s faults or conjecture onand presume a hundred different issues.
32. Do not speak about other people’s hidden and private affairs.
34. Do not praise other people to their face yet in a different place discuss their faults.
37. Do not be alone with your clan leader to cultivate personal closeness.
43. Do not distribute writings that slander others.
44. Do not claim to be skilled.
45. Do not claim to be noble.
46. Do not take pride in yourself.
48. Do not slander, yell at or curse anyone.
54. Do not discuss or criticize your teachers.
56. Do not slight and despise the teaching of the scriptures.
60. Do not rely on awe and power for advancement.
68. Do not cast spells so that other people die or suffer defeat.
69. Do not delight in other people’s death or defeat.
71. Do not stare at people.
75. Do not act as a tax inspector for ordinary people.
78. Do not practice astrology, star divination, or analyze the cycles of heaven.
81. Do not view any of your disciples in a partial or one-sided way. Note: View them as your own children.
85. Do not denigrate others’ accomplishments and merits andspeak only of your own virtue.
86. Do not select the best accommodation or room and mostcomfortable bed to sleep.
92. Do not use your connections with district officials to harm other people.
111. Do not talk too much and exert your mouth and tongue.
115. Do not make friends with soldiers.
118. Do not sacrifice to the ghosts and spirits in search of goodfortune.
119. Do not set up numerous prohibitions and avoidances forothers.
120. Do not set up numerous prohibitions and avoidances foryourself.
(Laojun jinglü, DZ 786, 1b–2a)
The One Hundred and Eighty Precepts express traditional Daoist values such as being deferential, avoiding fame and unnecessary political connections, practicing purity of speech and activity, and maintaining reverence for Daoist scriptures, teachers, and elders. There are also specific activities and professions that should be avoided. One is advised to avoid becoming an astrologer (78), butcher (4, 39, 40, 172, 173), doctor (125, 135), fortune-teller (16, 78), lawyer (127), lender (123), psychic (78), realtor (123), soldier (4, 16, 17, 40, 42, 115), “stock” breeder (animal husbandry; 8), or tax-collector (75). In general, the One Hundred and Eighty Precepts emphasize maintaining some degree of neutrality and a sense of communal welfare.
Precepts 119 and 120 are especially fascinating, as they suggest a deep understanding of the contributions and limitations of precept study and application. Rather than helping to cultivate virtue, precepts may become a further source of disorientation, especially if they are simply understood as mandated rules demanding conformity. Read on a deeper level, one might hear echoes of earlier Daoist views that undermine statements which may be interpreted in absolutist ways. As in the case of precepts 119 and 120, these are often expressed through the use of contradiction and paradox. For example, in Chapter 13 of the Zhuangzi, Wheelwright Pian comments on the “words of the sages”: “What you are reading is nothing but the chaff and dregs of people of antiquity.” In addition to locating such statements in their proper context, specifically as insights into the connection between theory and practice, a deeper reading reveals that the Zhuangzi itself would be “chaff and dregs.” However, one must read the Zhuangzi in order to learn this lesson. There is some profound relationship among contemplative reading, scripture study, philosophical reflection, and practical application (see Chapter 12). In a parallel manner, one must study the One Hundred and Eighty Precepts, at least through precepts 119 and 120, in order to encounter a precept about the danger of excessive precept study. One must engage in actual precept-based ethical reflection and practice in order to understand the paradox: precept study and application both supports and undermines ethics. It may help to establish an ethical orientation, or it may become a substitute for ethical embodiment.
The Ming-dynasty Daoist Canon as well as extra-canonical collections also contain precept texts only intended for ordained priests and monastics. For such community members, there are higher levels of involvement and degrees of adherence, with corresponding ethical commitments and responsibilities. More often than not, these assume proficiency or mastery of more foundational ethical adherence, adherence that should characterize the lives of lay Daoists. For example, the Ten Precepts of Initial Perfection, which are the first-level precepts for Longmen initiates, both monastic and lay, begin by emphasizing that adepts should be familiar and proficient with the five foundational precepts and the Taishang ganying pian (Treatise on Response and Retribution of the Great High [Lord Lao]; DZ 1167) before focusing on the Ten Precepts of Initial Perfection. In addition, many of the extant texts discuss ethical commitments according to specific ordination ranks and their corresponding precepts. A representative example is the late imperial Longmen ordination system (see Chapters 3 and 4). According to this system, there are three ranks with corresponding precept texts: (1) Initial Perfection and the Chuzhen jie (Precepts of Initial Perfection; JY 292; ZW 404), (2) Medium Ultimate and the Zhongji jie (Precepts of Medium Ultimate; JY 293; ZW 405), and (3) Celestial Immortality and Tianxian jie (Precepts of Celestial Immortality; JY 291; ZW 403). One practices each in sequence, and bestowal of the subsequent monastic rank requires proficiency in the former. The first rank centers on the Ten Precepts of Initial Perfection.

TEN PRECEPTS OF INITIAL PERFECTION

1. Do not be disloyal, unfilial, inhumane or dishonest. Alwaysexhaust your allegiance to your lord and family, and be sincere when relating to the myriad beings.
2. Do not secretly steal things, harbor hidden plots, or harmother beings in order to profit yourself. Always practice hidden virtue and widely aid the host of living beings.
3. Do not kill or harm anything that lives in order to satisfyyour own appetites. Always act with compassion and kindness to all, even insects and worms.
4. Do not be debased or deviant, squander your perfection, ordefile your numinous qi. Always guard perfection and integrity, and remain without deficiencies or transgressions.
5. Do not ruin others to create gain for yourself or leave yourown flesh and bones. Always use the Dao to help other beings and make sure that the nine clan members all live in harmony.
6. Do not slander or defame the worthy and good or exhibityour talents and elevate yourself. Always praise the beauty and goodness of others and never be contentious about your own accomplishments and abilities.
7. Do not drink alcohol or eat meat in violation of the prohibitions. Always harmonize qi and innate nature, remaining attentive to clarity and emptiness.
8. Do not be greedy and acquisitive without ever being satisfiedor accumulate wealth without giving some away. Always practice moderation in all things and show kindness and sympathy to the poor and destitute.
9. Do not have any relations or exchange with the unworthy orlive among the confused and defiled. Always strive to control yourself, becoming perched and composed in clarity and emptiness.
10. Do not speak or laugh lightly or carelessly, increasing agitation and denigrating perfection. Always maintain seriousness and speak humble words, so that the Dao and inner power remain your primary concern. (Chuzhen jie, ZW 404, 9b–10a)
The second Longmen ordination rank focuses on the Three Hundred
Precepts of Medium Ultimate. Rather than containing precepts per se, the Tianxian jie, corresponding to the third and highest Longmen ordination rank, provides general encouragement for developing certain ethical qualities. These might be best understood as resolutions to cultivate the Ten Virtues of Celestial Immortality, namely, wisdom, compassion, forbearance, meritorious activity, mind-cultivation, positive karma, strong determination, self-concealment, removal of passions, and universal mind. By applying and embodying these virtues, the adept also engages in the Twenty-seven Virtuous Activities of Celestial Immortality, such as avoidance of verbal transgressions, sensory engagement, psychological impurity, deviant thinking, and so forth (see Kohn 2004c; Komjathy forthcoming).
Interestingly, Daoist conduct guidelines also address the totality of Daoist religious life. Traditionally, this would include living in community, place, and often temples and monasteries (see Chapters 4 and 14). It would include various physical and material dimensions. For instance, the seventhcentury Fashi jinjie jing (Prohibitions and Precepts Regarding Ceremonial Food; DH 80) contains thirty-eight rules related to ritual observances at meals. The eighth-century Fafu kejie wen (Rules and Precepts Regarding Ritual Vestments) contains forty-six rules on the proper treatment of vestments (see Kohn 2003a, 2004b, 2004c), which were also incorporated into the seventeenth-century Chuzhen jie (see Chapter 15 herein). Perhaps most importantly, some precepts emphasize the importance of community and attentiveness to place. Returning to the above-mentioned One Hundred and Eighty Precepts from the early medieval Tianshi community, individuals are encouraged to consider the consequences of their activities and adopt corresponding ethical commitments and practices.

DAOIST ATTENTIVENESS TO PLACE AND CONSERVATIONIST ETHICS

4. Do not harm or kill any being.
7. Do not throw food into fires.
14. Do not burn fields, wild lands, mountains, or forests.
18. Do not wantonly cut down trees.
19. Do not wantonly pick herbs or flowers.
36. Do not throw poisonous substances into wells, ponds, rivers, or the ocean.
47. Do not wantonly dig holes in the earth and thereby destroy mountains and rivers.
49. Do not step on or kick the six domestic animals.
53. Do not drain waterways or marshes.
77. Do not landscape mountains, erect graves, or build houses for others.
79. Do not fish or hunt and thereby harm and kill the host of living beings.
82. Do not take away other people’s night fires.
95. Do not, during winter, dig up insects hibernating in the earth.
97. Do not wantonly climb trees to plunder nests and destroybirds’ eggs.
98. Do not catch birds or animals in cages or nets.
100. Do not throw anything filthy or defiled into public wells.
101. Do not block up ponds or wells.
109. Do not light fires on the plains.
121. Do not wantonly or lightly enter rivers or the ocean to take a bath.
132. Do not startle birds and beasts.
134. Do not wantonly open up dammed in lakes. (Laojun jinglü, DZ 786, 1b–2a)
Kristofer Schipper (2001) has brought attention to the “ecological dimensions” of these precepts, and one might justifiably think of them in terms of “environmental ethics.” They originate in a community rooted in place (see Chapters 4 and 14), individuals committed to preserving its beauty and ensuring its wellbeing. Here the foundational Daoist value of conservation (see Chapter 5), usually understood as pertaining to inner cultivation and non-dissipation of one’s core vitality, is expressed as a sense of place. Daoist adepts who embrace the prescribed conservationist ethic endeavor to support the flourishing of birds, animals, forests, and waterways. They are an applied, grass-roots ethics, a form of ecological engagement that is informed by and remembers a place-specific community. They express the Daoist tendency towards biocentrism, organicism, and bioregionalism over anthropocentrism: humans are participants and members of an ecological community, a community characterized by diversity embodying the Dao’s transformative process.
  
FURTHER READING

Hendrischke, Barbara, and Benjamin Penny. 1996. “The 180 Precepts Spoken by Lord Lao: A Translation and Textual Study.” Taoist Resources 6.2: 17–29.
Kleeman, Terry. 1991. “Taoist Ethics.” In A Bibliographic Guide to
Comparative Ethics, edited by John Carman and Mark Juergensmeyer, 162–94. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Kohn, Livia. 2004. Cosmos and Community: The Ethical Dimension of Daoism. Cambridge, MA: Three Pines Press.
Komjathy, Louis. 2008. Handbooks for Daoist Practice. 10 vols. Hong Kong: Yuen Yuen Institute.
Komjathy, Louis, and Kate Townsend. 2010. Daoist Precept Manual. San Diego, CA: Wandering Cloud Press.
Liu Ming (Charles Belyea). 1998. The Blue Book: A Text Concerning Orthodox Daoist Conduct. 3rd edn. Santa Cruz, CA: Orthodox Daoism in America.
Nietzsche, Friedrich. 1967 (1887). On the Genealogy of Morals. Translated by Walter Kaufmann and R. J. Hollingdale. New York: Vintage Books.
Penny, Benjamin. 1996. “Buddhism and Daoism in ‘The 180 Precepts Spoken by Lord Lao’.” Taoist Resources 6.2: 1–16.
Schipper, Kristofer. 2001. “Daoist Ecology: The Inner Transformation. A Study of the Precepts of the Early Daoist Ecclesia.” In Daoism and Ecology, edited by Norman Girardot et al., 79–94. Cambridge, MA:
Center for the Study of World Religions, Harvard University.
 
9

Komjathy. Daoist Tradition: 6. Cosmogony, Cosmology, and Theology

   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

===

5 Informing views and foundational concerns






Daoism has distinctive beliefs, doctrines and worldviews. These “views” are the principles, values, commitments, and concerns that Daoists have endeavored to live by. Following Geertz’s (1977) “definition” of religion, Daoist views are the “symbol system” of Daoism, providing a specific conception of “reality” and creating meaning and purpose. Drawing upon the metaphors of Chapter 1, these views might be thought of as the roots of the old growth forest of Daoism.

This chapter is perhaps the most problematic of all of the chapters of the present book. As repeatedly emphasized, Daoism is a tradition characterized by diversity and complexity, and consequently, it is difficult to make generalizations or to discuss its “defining characteristics.” Daoism has no universally accepted orthodoxy or orthopraxy, nor is there a centralized Daoist institution. Rather, there are identifiable, often movement-specific and lineage-specific views, practice styles, and distinctive methods.

For example, although the Tianshi and Quanzhen movements based much of their foundational worldview on the Daode jing, Lingbao did not. This fact does not make Lingbao “less Daoist” than the other movements, especially given the fact that Lu Xiujing (406–77) was so central in the development of organized Daoism; rather, it tells us something fundamental about the Daoist tradition, specifically the Daoist tendency towards ambiguity, inclusivity, and plurality within every period of Daoist history, including within classical Daoism itself. That is, doctrinal difference is not simply about “between,” but also about “within.” For example, the Primitivist lineage of classical Daoism emphasized eremitic withdrawal, while the Syncretic lineage emphasized social engagement and political involvement (see Chapters 2 and 3). While these “schools” were connected by shared worldviews, as well as foundational meditative techniques, on some level their existential applications were at variance. Given these facts, this chapter should not be read as the “essence” or “normative doctrine” of Daoism.

This chapter covers major informing views and foundational concerns of Daoism. In concert with Chapters 3, 6, 7, and 8, it attempts to provide a framework for understanding major Daoist beliefs, principles, values, commitments, and concerns. Knowledge of these allows one to understand the continuities and departures, divergences and convergences among different Daoist communities and movements. Such dimensions of Daoism also relate to Daoist cosmogony, cosmology, and theology and to Daoist views of self, which are covered in Chapters 6 and 7, respectively. Together with this chapter, these three chapters comprise the “worldview chapters” of the present book. They reveal some of the key Daoist views of the world and accounts of “reality.”

1] Orientations

Daoists have traditionally recognized the importance of the Three Treasures (sanbao). Although conventionally associated with internal alchemy (see Chapters 7 and 11), there is actually a reference to this concept in the Daode jing.


THE THREE TREASURES OF CLASSICAL DAOISM

I have Three Treasures that I cherish and protect:

The first is compassion;

The second is frugality;

And the third is not daring to be first [humility].

Through compassion, one can be brave.

Through frugality, one can be expansive.

Through humility, one can become a vessel-elder.

Bravery without compassion,

Expansiveness without frugality, And advancing without retreating, These are fatal.

(Daode jing, Chapter 67)


Here emphasis is placed on core Daoist principles and commitments, including humility, circumspection, and deference, which are also expressed in Daoist ethics (see Chapter 8). In the later tradition, the Three Treasures refer to both the internal Three Treasures (nei sanbao) and the external Three Treasures (wai sanbao). The former refer to vital essence (jing), qi, and spirit (shen). Adapting the Three Refuges of Buddhism (Buddha, Dharma, Sangha), the external Three Treasures refer to the Dao, the scriptures (jing), and the teachers (shi ). The latter may be understood as specific teachers (embodied and disembodied), community elders, and the Daoist religious community as a whole. The external Three Treasures are also used in a manner parallel to Buddhism: Daoists often “take refuge” in the Three Treasures as the first step towards affiliation (see Chapter 13). From a Daoist perspective, all three are an essential part of the tradition, and they are interrelated and mutually dependent. The scriptures and the teachers, specifically realized beings, ordained priests and monastics, are manifestations of the Dao. Reading Daoist scriptures and receiving teachings from advanced practitioners is an encounter with the Dao. Each embodies and transmits the Dao. The Three Treasures are associated with other dimensions of the tradition as well, especially the Three Purities (sanqing), Three Heavens (santian), and three elixir fields in the body (san dantian) (see Chapters 6 and 7). The correspondences are as follows:



CHART 7 Ternary Dimensions of the Daoist Tradition

Of the external Three Treasures, the Dao is the fundamental orientation of Daoists and Daoist communities. On the most basic level, it is the sacred or ultimate concern of Daoists. Daoists are thus those who orient themselves towards the Dao. However, such an orientation is a necessary, but not a sufficient condition for being a Daoist. Properly speaking, “Daoist” designates an adherent of Daoism, someone who is following a Daoist religious path. In contrast to “Daoist adherent,” we might reserve the term “Daoist sympathizer” for someone interested in the Dao, the Daode jing, or other aspects extracted from community and tradition (see Chapter 16).

The principle of orientation (fangxiang) is also centrally important for Daoists. It is an informing view and foundational concern. Orientation is an astronomical, geographical, and cartographical metaphor. One thinks of the practice of orienteering, or being able to use map and compass to locate oneself and to navigate through landscapes, both familiar and unfamiliar, known and unknown. It also relates to stellar navigation, both in terms of water navigation and ecstatic journeys. For Daoists, the landscape of the Dao and Daoism is diverse (see Chapters 1 and 2). There are different terrains, territories, inhabitants, paths, and destinations. Some Daoists have preferred the solitude of mountain peaks (see Chapters 4 and 14), even defining their orientation as being lost among valleys and streams, cliffs and caves. Others have oriented themselves towards social participation and engagement. They have worked on political, social, and community levels (see Chapter 4).

Daoists have also been attentive to both physical and subtle landscapes. They have mapped visible and invisible dimensions of the cosmos. This type of interest and activity also relates to another centrally important Daoist principle, namely, observation (guan). The character guan 觀 consists of guan 雚 (“egret”) and jian 見 (“to perceive”). Guan is the quality of an egret observing barely visible or unseen presences. Such observation is rooted in stillness, attentiveness, and presence. Interestingly, the character guan has been used to designate both Daoist monasteries (see Chapters 4, 14 and 15) and a specific type of Daoist meditation called “inner observation” (neiguan; see Chapter 11). With respect to the first, guan originally designated astronomical observatories. Daoist monasteries might thus be understood as places to align oneself with the Dao as cosmos and to explore the inner universe of the self. For this, darkness, silence, and seclusion are essential. With respect to the second, Daoists have understood the body as inner landscape and microcosm (see Chapter 7). By turning one’s gaze inward, one may illuminate the corporeal terrain. The inner landscape and microcosm of the body correspond to and interpenetrate with the external landscape and macrocosm. Thus to observe one is to gain insight into the other, to realize their interconnection and mutual influence.

Such concern for landscape and universe has been expressed in the Daoist tradition, both actually and symbolically. Many Daoists have inhabited, observed, and participated in natural locales. They have also seen Nature and its myriad expressions as teachers and models, especially with respect to self-cultivation. For example, in the Zhuangzi we find a conversation about “governing” (zhi ) and inner power (de) occurring between Madman Jie Yu and Jian Wu.

HOW TO GOVERN THE WORLD

The madman Jie Yu said, “This is inauthentic virtue (de). To try to govern the world like this [through contrivance and manipulation] is like trying to walk the ocean, to drill through a river, or to make a mosquito shoulder a mountain! When the sage governs, does he govern what is on the outside? He makes sure of himself first, and then he acts. He makes absolutely certain that things can do what they are supposed to do, that is all. The bird flies high in the sky where it can escape the danger of stringed arrows. The field mouse burrows deep down under the sacred hill where it won’t have to worry about people digging and smoking it out. Have you got less sense than these two little creatures?” (Zhuangzi, Chapter 7; see also Chapters 1, 17, 24, passim)

This “governance,” also translatable as “regulation,” is first and foremost about self-cultivation. Here we should note that Daoists have tended to use the language of “cultivation” to refer to Daoist religious practice and commitment. This is an agricultural metaphor (see Lakoff and Johnson 1980; Lakoff 1987), and there is some question about the relationship between wildness and cultural refinement in the Daoist tradition. That is, there is an ongoing tension in Daoist history between uninhibited freedom and domestication, between foraging and agriculture. The Daoist emphasis on “cultivation” is, in turn, found in frequent references to “fields” (tian), “roots” (ben; gen), “seeds” (zhong), “sprouts” (ya), “tending” (yang), and so forth. Returning to classical Daoism, such inner cultivation, rooted in stillness and non-interference, is the basis of and has an application to any activity, even politics. In terms of observation of Nature, one can imagine the patience required to understand the life and activity of field mice in the passage above. On one occasion, one sees that they make shallow holes. Viewing them as “pests” and “nuisances,” people then destroy their residences, whether by digging or smoking them out. In response, the field mice learn and adapt, burrowing deeper in order to protect themselves. This becomes a model for those who would avoid chaos and injury.
2] Foundational values and concerns

One approach to Daoist values and concerns focuses on classical Daoist texts like the Daode jing (Scripture on the Dao and Inner Power) and Zhuangzi (Book of Master Zhuang) (cf. Yin 2005: 25–39). Although there is much doctrinal diversity in the tradition, the principles transmitted by the classical inner cultivation lineages became part of what might be labeled a “foundational Daoist worldview.” They comprise one major element of Daoist doctrine and belief, although Daoists have tended to place greater emphasis on community and tradition as well as on embodiment, practice, and experience than on doctrine or faith as such (see below).

A close reading of the Daode jing, especially with attentiveness to its emphasis on self-cultivation and the qualities of sages (shengren), reveals a variety of principles and key convictions.


CLASSICAL AND FOUNDATIONAL

DAOIST PRINCIPLES

Empty the heart-mind and fill the belly; Weaken the will and strengthen the bones. (Daode jing, Chapter 3)

Appear plain and embrace simplicity;

Lessen personal interest and decrease desires.

(ibid., Chapter 19)

Block the passages;

Close the doorways;


Blunt the sharpness;

Untie the knots;

Harmonize the brightness; Unite with the dust.

(ibid., Chapter 56; also Chapter 4)

Such passages are, of course, open to interpretation, but many Daoists have read these and similar insights as a map for inner cultivation. Emphasis is placed on decreasing: a model of voluntary simplicity, of living through only what is essential. One practices non-action (wuwei ), which may be understood as effortless activity, non-interference, and non-intervention. It means acting with minimum effort, only doing what is necessary. From a cosmological and theological perspective, one ceases doing everything that prevents one from being attuned with the Dao. Here we should note that there is much confusion about the Daoist view of wuwei. It is not “doing nothing,” which is impossible. (Try releasing all of the tension in your body and see what happens!) It is about ease and relaxation in everything, whether thinking, speaking, or moving. It is about complete presence and conservation, or non-dissipation (wulou) (see Chapter 10). The same is true of the sister-term ziran (tzu-jan), often translated as “spontaneity” or “naturalness.” The phrase literally means “self-so.” A more accurate translation might be “so-ness,” “thusness,” or “suchness,” although the latter is often used for Buddhist notions and thus may create confusion without explanation. Using the language of European phenomenology, we might understand ziran as “being-soof-itself.” In any case, ziran is the state or condition realized when one returns to one’s innate nature, which is the Dao. In classical Daoist terms, this is “accomplished” through the practice of wuwei. The Daoist notion of ziran, or suchness, thus assumes a distinction between habituated being and realized being. It does not mean, as often assumed in modern popular culture, the reproduction of habituation or following one’s own desires. Practicing wuwei and abiding in ziran require the mastery of Daoist principles, including decreasing desires.

Ziran in turn relates to another technical term from classical Daoism: pu. Most often rendered as “unadorned simplicity” or “uncarved block,” the character pu 朴/樸 is written with the mu 木 (“tree”) radical, and we can speculate in a Daoist way about how simplicity is comparable to trees. We can think of indigenous trees growing in their own natural and wild environs, which grow and flourish according to their own tendencies and patterns in concert with various natural influences (climate, weather, insects, birds, animals, etc.). They are located in a wider system; there is an ecological and cosmological dimension. This vision of trees as models does not include trees employed for human use, trees made into “lumber.” Such “trees” are no longer trees; they have been altered according to human desires and utilitarian constructs.

The simplicity of the uncarved block leads to numerous discussions of the positive “value” of uselessness (wuyong), and specifically the uselessness of village and mountain trees in the Zhuangzi. One day while traveling, a certain Carpenter Shi and his apprentice pass by an enormous oak tree that serves as a cover for the village earth-shrine.

THE “VALUE” OF USELESSNESS

His apprentice stood staring for a long time and then ran after Carpenter Shi and said, “Since I first took up my ax and followed you, Master, I have never seen timber as beautiful as this. But you don’t even bother to look, and go right on without stopping. Why is that?”

“Forget it—say no more!” said the carpenter. “It’s a worthless tree! Make boats out of it and they’d sink; make coffins and they’d rot in no time; make vessels and they’d break at once. Use it for doors and it would sweat sap like pine; use it for posts and the worms would eat them up. It’s not a timber tree —there’s nothing it can be used for. That’s how it got to be that old!” (Zhuangzi, Chapter 4)

However, the story does not end here. In the subsequent episode, which might be read as evidence of Daoist animism and quasi-shamanism, the oak tree appears to Carpenter Shi in a dream and transmits specific teachings.

AN OLD OAK’S TRANSMISSION

After Carpenter Shi had returned home, the oak tree appeared to him in a dream and said, “As for me, I’ve been trying for a long time to be of no use, and though I almost died, I’ve finally got it. This is of great use to me. If I had been of some use, would I ever have grown this large? Moreover you and I are both of us things. What’s the point of this—things condemning things? You, a worthless person about to die, how do you know I’m a worthless tree?”

When Carpenter Shi woke up, he reported his dream. His apprentice said, “If it’s so intent on being of no use, what’s it doing there at the village shrine?”

“Shhh! Say no more! It’s only resting there. If we carp and criticize, it will merely conclude that we don’t understand it. Even if it weren’t at the shrine, do you suppose it would be cut down? It protects itself in a different way from ordinary people. If you try to judge it by conventional standards, you’ll be way off!” (ibid.; adapted from Watson 1968: 63–5; see also Chapters 1, 4, 9, 12, 19, 20, 24, 25, 29)



Stories like these, especially many contained in the Zhuangzi, form part of the folklore, culture, and oral tradition of Daoism (see Chapters 12 and 15). In terms of foundational Daoist beliefs, the “value of uselessness” is that it allows one to live one’s own life through naturalness, simplicity, and suchness. It allows one to discover one’s own connection to the Dao. At the same time, it protects one from becoming a tool manipulated by others for their own egoistic purposes. The Zhuangzi, in turn, contains various comments on the value of abiding in suchness and simplicity, of being “useless” and “worthless” (see Zhuangzi, Chapters 4 and 20). The suchness of the tree, in turn, stands in contrast to the instrumentalist mentality and conditioned perception of the carpenter. Read from a symbolic perspective, the ax represents the ordinary human mind with its linguistic and conceptual categories and its psycho-pathological way of interacting with the world.

The uselessness of the tree enables it not only to flourish in a free and extended state, but also to become a natural shrine, most likely an outdoor altar to a locality god. That is, the oak tree’s unusability and naturalness create a space for accessing the sacred. The tradition recognizes this value in various other beings as well, including wild birds (free of cages), wild fish (free of nets), wild horses (free of bridles, harnesses, and corrals), sea tortoises (free of divinization methods), and so forth (see Komjathy 2011f). Such animals represent the ideal of pu, or simplicity, and symbolize a life beyond contrivance, convention, utilitarianism, and instrumentalism. Trees and other wild beings become models for humans: their very uselessness provides inspiration for human flourishing and they express existential and spiritual insights through their very being, observation of which may be applied to spiritual practice.

One can connect the classical Daoist notions of ziran and pu to other terms related to one’s core being. In some classical Daoist texts, the view that one’s own being is the Dao becomes expressed through the use of the terms “innate nature” (xing) and “life-destiny” (ming), with the latter also translated as “fate.” In a classical sense, these terms are often employed synonymously, as a kind of endowed capacity or ontological givenness. This stands in contrast to their more nuanced and technical use in the later tradition, especially in internal alchemy lineages, wherein xing is associated with the heart-mind, spirit as well as divine capacities, while ming is associated with the kidneys, vital essence as well as foundational vitality and corporeality (see Chapter 7). For members of the classical inner cultivation lineages, xing and ming designate the ground of one’s being, the Dao manifesting in/as/through one’s own embodied existence. On some level, they are “fate” in the sense of one’s innate and personal capacities, and what one must do in order to have meaning, purpose, and fulfillment. On another level, they must be actualized or expressed as embodied being in the world.

They are both given and actualized.


RETURNING TO THE SOURCE

Apply emptiness completely; Guard stillness steadfastly.

The ten thousand beings arise together; I simply observe their return.

All beings flourish and multiply; Each again returns to the Source.

Returning to the Source is called stillness; This means returning to life-destiny.

Returning to life-destiny is called constancy; Knowing constancy is called illumination.

(Daode jing, Chapter 16)

The Dao was pulled apart for the sake of goodness; virtue was imperiled for the sake of conduct. After this, innate nature was abandoned and minds were set free to roam, heart-mind joining with heart-mind in understanding; there was knowledge, but it could not bring stability to the world. After this, “culture” was added on, and “breadth” was piled on top. “Culture” destroyed


the substantial, “breadth” drowned the heart-mind, and after this the people began to be confused and disordered. They had no way to revert to the true form of their innate nature or to return once more to the Beginning. (Zhuangzi, Chapter 16)

Here is a representative account of the loss of cosmic integration, of separation from the Dao. At root, one becomes disoriented through societal conditioning, familial expectations and obligations, and personal habituation. Such claims of course beg the question of how human beings, as manifestations of the Dao, originally lost their cosmic integration. From a Daoist perspective, the account of human disorientation is existential and psychological, not cosmogonic or theological. That is, it is about the human experience of being in the world, and the consequences of certain human activities. There is thus the following traditional Daoist statement: “Humans may be distant from the Dao, but the Dao is never distant from humans.” That is, one’s “separation from the Dao” is only apparent. Ultimately, separation is impossible. But what about the question of benefit and harm, of morality and immorality? There are two primary Daoist responses. First, from a cosmological and theological perspective, there is no such thing. Terms such as “morality” are human constructs, ways of creating meaning and order in an impersonal universe. Using a famous phrase from Chapter 5 of the Daode jing, everything in the phenomenal world is a “straw dog” (chugou), with straw dogs being effigies used in ancient Chinese ritual. On some level, we are simply sacrificial offerings in the unending decomposition and recomposition ritual of the universe. We simply participate in the unending transformative process of the Dao. Second, in the case of human beings, innate nature is innately good. To express this nature is to act with virtue. But this is not socially constructed morality, as in the case of Confucianism. Rather, it is the way in which one’s innate nature naturally manifests, as a beneficial presence and influence. Such a condition has moral qualities from a conventional perspective, but it is simply one’s own innate nature, the Dao, becoming present in human relationship and interaction (see Chapter 8).

When virtue does not flourish, this is due not to the “presence of evil” in the world, but rather to widespread psychological and spiritual confusion. On the personal level, the primary sources of such confusion include sensory engagement with the world through the “passages” and “doorways” mentioned in the Daode jing passage above, and emotionality, especially negative, harmful, and inappropriate emotional reactions. This leads to a state of disorientation that is manifest in distinctions, categories, biases, and opinions emanating from one’s own limited, egoistic viewpoint. This Daoist description of disintegration is also a map for reintegration. The most important principle here is “returning to the Source” (guigen), a term that means attunement with the Dao. The tradition proposes various ways to do this, but taking classical Daoism to its logical conclusion, it simply involves abiding in the ground of one’s being. One accepts what is, and allows each being to unfold according to its own innate nature. With respect to religious discipline, one trains oneself to have a positive and accepting view of oneself and others. Generally speaking, the ideal here is not becoming emotionless. Rather, it is to attain a state of “true joy,” a calm contentment and buoyancy undisturbed by gain and loss, by the trials and tribulations of existence, or by fulfillment or frustration of mundane desires. It requires recognition of change as the one universal constant. “The sage penetrates bafflement and complication, rounding all into a single body, yet he does not know why—it is his innate nature. He returns to fate and acts accordingly, using the cosmos (tianxia) as his teacher” (Zhuangzi, Chapter 25; also Chapter 5).

This foundational worldview incorporates a vision of human existence in a larger energetic, cosmological and theological context (see Chapter 6). One endeavors to follow a way of life that is participatory, that is fully present to the moment. For example, we encounter an exchange between Zhuangzi and Huizi, a famous representative of the so-called Mingjia

(Logicians/Terminologists).

THE JOY OF FISH

Zhuangzi and Huizi were strolling along the dam of the Hao River when Zhuangzi said, “See how the minnows come out and dart around where they please! That’s what fish really enjoy!”

Huizi said, “You’re not a fish, so how do you know what fish enjoy?”

Zhuangzi said, “You’re not me, so how do you know I don’t know what fish enjoy?”

Huizi said, “I’m not you, so I certainly don’t know what you know. On the other hand, you’re certainly not a fish—so that still proves you don’t know what fish enjoy!”

Zhuangzi said, “Let’s go back to your original question. You asked me how I know what fish enjoy—so you already knew I knew it when you asked the question. I know it by standing here beside the Hao River.” (Zhuangzi, Chapter 17; adapted from Watson 1968: 188-9)

Although passages like this tend to be read “philosophically,” I would suggest that they are about being alive in the world. Huizi can only understand the conversation and “reality” through his own linguistic and conceptual frameworks. He can only speak from the limited perspective of his own philosophical commitments, especially through the cognitive faculty of intellect and reason. In contrast, Zhuangzi views existence from a different perspective. By walking through the landscape, by enjoying its contours and presences, by observing the joy of fish, Zhuangzi participates in the underlying mystery and all-pervading sacred presence of the Dao. While the experiences of fish and humans appear to be different, the actual condition of experiencing and participation is the same.

Within the texts of classical Daoism, we also find other core Daoist values and commitments. These include non-contention (wuzheng), nonknowing (wuzhi ), and clarity and stillness (qingjing). Within the phrases wuwei, wuzheng, and wuzhi, one notices the repetition of wu (“without”), that is, the term that negates the character which follows. This type of discourse has led some scholars to characterize classical Daoist views as “quietistic” or “apophatic,” emptying the heart-mind of emotional and intellectual content. While this might seem to support a philosophical reading of classical Daoism in terms of “relativism,” “skepticism,” and philosophy of language (see, e.g. Kjellberg and Ivanhoe 1996; Cook 2003), such language rather draws one’s attention to the disruptive effects of “acting,” “contending,” and “knowing,” especially in conventional ways. They also point towards something else, namely, the transformative effect of contemplative practice and a larger vision of personhood and being. The stillness at the ground of one’s being, often identified as innate nature (see above), is the Stillness which is the Dao (LaFargue 1992: 229–30; also 53– 85, 243). Here we find a high anthropology and a sophisticated psychological understanding (see Chapter 7). From this perspective, human beings have untapped potential, and consciousness cannot be reduced to intellect or reason. Consciousness in a more complete sense includes “spiritual capacities” such as contentless and non-conceptual awareness as well as mystical abiding, a condition of non-dualistic being. This is not to say that intellect and reason are unimportant or irrelevant. Rather, they have a function that must be understood and appropriately employed.

Daoist traditions formulated precepts and practices based on these classical foundations. For example, in the early Tianshi movement, community members applied Nine Practices (jiuxing).

THE NINE PRACTICES OF EARLY TIANSHI DAOISM

1. Practice non-action (wuwei ).

2. Practice softness and weakness (rouruo).

3. Practice guarding the feminine (shouci ). Do not initiate actions.

4. Practice being nameless (wuming).

5. Practice clarity and stillness (qingjing).

6. Practice being adept (zhushan).

7. Practice being desireless (wuyu).

8. Practice ceasing with sufficiency (zhizu).

9. Practice yielding and withdrawing (tuirang).

(Laojun jinglü, DZ 786, 1a; see also Bokenkamp 1997: 49; Kohn 2004c: 59)

These nine principles derive from various chapters of the Daode jing (see Komjathy 2008a, v. 5), and form a clear connective strand between classical Daoism and early Daoism. In this respect, it is also noteworthy that the

Daode jing had a central position in this movement. The third Celestial Master, Zhang Lu (d. 215), may have written a commentary to the text, which is titled the Laozi Xiang’er zhu (Commentary Thinking Through the Laozi; DH 56; S. 6825; see Bokenkamp 1997). The Xiang’er commentary is only one of over a hundred extant Daoist commentaries on the Daode jing in the Daoist Canon (see Chapter 12), almost none of which have unfortunately been studied or translated. The early Tianshi community also extracted precepts, the Twenty-Seven Xiang’er Precepts, from their early commentary (see Chapter 8). These conduct guidelines, in turn, became collected in various Daoist precept texts (see Kohn 2004c).
3] Embodiment, practice, experience

Viewed from a comprehensive and integrated perspective, one finds a strong emphasis on embodiment, practice, and experience within the Daoist tradition. The foundational Daoist view of human being and existence is psychosomatic, and recognizes physical, physiological, psychological, and spiritual dimensions of personhood. At the same time, “self,” from a traditional Daoist perspective, is relational, communal (human and “nonhuman”), cosmological, as well as theological. Thus, complete “embodiment” is about integration and participation. It is about being and presence. On a cosmological and theological level, it is about the mysteriousness and numinosity of the Dao manifesting through one’s life. It is about becoming an embodiment of the Dao in the world.

Here one notices a fundamental Daoist concern: physicality and aliveness. Daoists tend to have body-affirming and world-affirming views. Even in Daoist communities where “immortality” and “transcendence” are primary, the attainment of such a state occurs within and through the body in an intentional way. Going farther, many Daoists have sought to encounter the Dao in all things. First and foremost, this involves attentiveness to one’s own body and corporeal reality, including diet (see Chapter 9) as well as vitality and longevity (see Chapter 10). It also involves training oneself to see the Dao manifesting through each and every being. As an embodied being in the world, there are different ways of experiencing the Dao’s innumerable manifestations. These may be mapped along a spectrum from personal to impersonal and transpersonal, from psychological to cosmological and mystical. Such categories, of course, are not necessarily mutually exclusive.

Daoist practice has included aesthetics, art (e.g. calligraphy, music, painting, and poetry), dietetics, health and longevity practice, meditation, ritual, scripture study, and so forth. The point to be made here is that whatever path Daoists follow, practice is essential. That is, although there are clearly distinctive Daoist worldviews, Daoists have tended to deemphasize belief and doctrine. The importance of practice throughout Daoist history has often been neglected by those who would construct Daoism primarily as “philosophy” or “way of life.” This view is especially prominent among readers and interpreters of classical Daoist texts, which are frequently read as about disembodied “ideas” and “ways of thinking.” However, if contextualized appropriately and read carefully, one finds that Daoists and Daoist communities are less interested in epistemology (ways of knowing); they tend to be more interested in ontology (ways of being) and soteriology (ways towards the Dao). That is, although worldview, practice, and experience are interrelated, Daoists have tended to place primary emphasis on practice and experience. One cannot understand the views expressed in Daoist texts without understanding the practices that inspired, are informed by and express those views.

For this reason, “practice” in Daoism most often refers to both one’s own spiritual discipline and one’s training at the hands of teachers, the community, and tradition. While auto-didacticism (teaching oneself) is not completely absent from the Daoist tradition, it tends to be a minority viewpoint. Self-directed spiritual practice often leads to confusion and selfabsorption, perhaps even narcissism. Authentic teachers and community elders can inhibit such tendencies and provide spiritual direction.

THE IMPORTANCE OF TEACHERS AND TRAINING

Perfected Jin said, “Alas, as I look at people in the world seeking a teacher and inquiring about the Dao, [I find that] they are not willing to subordinate themselves to others. They only speak about everyone else as inferior to themselves. When it comes to cultivation, they are unwilling to be diligent and attentive, patient and forbearing. They merely engage in hollow speech and never even start the right effort towards perfection. Moreover, they are not truly committed to cultivation. When they see people in poverty, they lack any inclination to be of assistance or to come to the rescue. With each successive step, they squander their efforts and practice until they utterly lose their hidden virtue and act in opposition to the Dao. Adepts like this who want to complete immortality and have confirmation of the Dao—how much more distant could they be!” (Jin zhenren yulu, DZ 1056, 2b-3a)

This quotation from the early twelfth-century Jin zhenren yulu (Discourse Record of Perfected Jin) emphasizes the importance of guidance under a teacher. It recalls Chapter 70 of the Daode jing: “My words are very easy to understand and very easy to practice, but no one understands or practices them” (see also Chapter 41). Ideally, Daoist teachers have a deep root in practice and familiarity with the challenges and contributions of committed religious practice. Such teachers, usually referred to as “master-fathers” (shifu), also help to clarify the disciple’s vocation.

Here one example will suffice to illustrate the importance of formal religious training. As discussed in Chapter 13, ritual is one of the primary religious activities of Daoists. Daoist ritual tends to include an officiant (head priest), cantors (assistant priests), and attending members of the larger religious community, whether patrons, other priests and monastics, or ordinary believers. The first two positions require long-term and intensive training. This is especially the case for the officiant, who leads the ritual. He is the primary intermediary between deities and the community. While lay believers may have personal altars, where they bow and make offerings such as incense and fruit, they lack the formal training, expertise, and standing to ascend the community altar, to lead the ritual, and to have audience with divinities. This requires the services of an officiant with the necessary training to perform such a complex ritual.

The final element of the tripartite understanding of Daoist practice and attainment is experience. Religious practice and religious experience are interrelated. Specific types of practice lead to specific types of experiences, and specific types of experiences confirm the efficacy of specific training regimens (Komjathy 2007a). These include theistic and dualistic encounters with deities, immortals, and Perfected as well as monistic and unitive experiences of the Dao, whether as Nature (panenhenic) or as primordial undifferentiation (monistic) (see Chapters 3 and 6). At the same time, Daoists have tended to view such experiences as blessings, beyond one’s personal control, or as by-products of practice.



In terms of religious practice and religious experience, some Daoists have emphasized “experiential confirmation” and “verification” (zhengyan), also translated as “signs of proof” (Eskildsen 2001; see also Eskildsen 2004; Komjathy 2007a). For example, the final section of the tenth-century Chuandao ji (Anthology on the Transmission of the Dao; DZ 263, j. 14–16), one of the most influential early Zhong-Lü texts, is titled “Lun zhengyan” (On Experiential Confirmation). It informs the Daoist adept that specific training regimens may result in specific experiences. After one conserves vital essence, opens the body’s meridians, and generates saliva, one begins a process of self-rarification and self-divinization (see Chapters 7 and 11). At the most advanced stages of alchemical transformation, one becomes free of karmic obstructions and entanglements and one’s name becomes registered in the records of the Three Purities. The embryo of immortality matures, which includes the ability to manifest as the body-beyond-the-body and to have greater communion with celestial realms. After the adept’s bones begin to disappear and become infused with golden light, he or she may receive visitations from divine beings. This process of experiential confirmation is said to culminate as follows: “In a solemn and grand ceremony, you will be given the purple writ of the celestial books and immortal regalia. Immortals will appear on your left and right, and you will be escorted to Penglai. You will have audience with the Perfect Lord of Great Tenuity in the Purple Palace. Here your name and place of birth will be entered into the registers. According to your level of accomplishment, you will be given a dwellingplace on the Three Islands. Then you may be called a Perfected (zhenren) or immortal (xianzi )” (16.30a; see Komjathy 2007a).

Closely associated with these signs of proof, Daoist practitioners have suggested that Daoist religious practice may result in certain “boons along the way,” specifically in the acquisition of “numinous abilities” (shentong) and “numinous pervasion” (lingtong). The “Lun liutong jue” (Instructions on the Six Pervasions), a Yuan dynasty internal alchemy text, provides a clear description.

THE SIX PERVASIONS


(1) Pervasion of Heart-mind Conditions, involving the ability toexperience unified nature as distinct from the ordinary body.

(2) Pervasion of Spirit Conditions, involving the ability to knowthings beyond ordinary perception.

(3) Pervasion of Celestial Vision, involving the ability to perceive internal landscapes within the body.

(4) Pervasion of Celestial Hearing, involving the ability to hearthe subtle communications of spirits and humans.

(5) Pervasion of Past Occurrences, involving the ability to understand the karmic causes and effects relating to the Three Realms of desire, form, and formlessness.

(6) Pervasion of the Heart-minds of Others, involving the abilityto manifest the body-beyond-the-body. (Neidan jiyao, DZ 1258,

3.12a-14a; see also Chapter 11 herein)

These parallel the Buddhist emphasis on the attainment of “supernatural powers” and “paranormal abilities” (Skt.: siddhi ), including magical powers, the divine ear (clair-audience), penetration of the minds of others (clairvoyance), the divine eye (ability to see into time and space), memory of former existences, and knowledge of the extinction of karmic outflows. As is the case among Buddhists, Daoists have tended to identify such abilities as a natural outcome of practice. One should not pursue, elevate, or become attached to such abilities. Instead, one must recognize them for what they are: byproducts of practice. They are simply one possible form of experiential confirmation. Other forms include an increased sense of meaning and purpose, a teacher’s recognition, or veneration by others. At the same time, none of these things may occur. It depends on one’s affinities, constitution, and the time.




4] Adherence and community

Adherence is also a foundational dimension of the Daoist religious tradition. Adherence refers to a person’s formal association with a religious tradition. An “adherent” is a member of a religious tradition, and the concept replaces earlier terms such as “believer.” With respect to the academic study of religion, adherence is often framed in terms of “belief” and “selfidentification” (see Chapters 1 and 16). It thus relates to religious identity (see Chapter 3). However, simply understanding adherence in terms of the individual fails to recognize pivotal elements of religious identity, including community and tradition. In the case of Daoism, adherence, community, and tradition are interrelated.

One does not have to directly participate in a formal religious community to receive indirect influences from it. Take, for example, the Daode jing, a “text” that has become part of contemporary global culture. As many have pointed out, the text is second only to the Bible as the most translated book in “world literature.” However, how is it that the Daode jing exists? How is it that the Daode jing is accessible in the contemporary world? Members of the inner cultivation lineages of classical Daoism remembered sayings, compiled earlier anthologies, and preserved and transmitted those manuscripts (see Chapters 2 and 3). At the same time, throughout Chinese history, Daoists created standardized editions of the Daode jing with their own unique commentaries, which express the views of specific Daoists and specific Daoist communities. Daoists have tended to read the Daode jing with the guidance of Daoist teachers rooted in Daoist traditions of reading and interpretation. Thus, the Daode jing not only is a Daoist scripture, a sacred text written in classical Chinese, but also exists because of Daoists and Daoist communities. The very existence of the scripture and the opportunity to read it in English today locates one on some level in the Daoist tradition, a tradition with specific views and interpretations of scripture (see Chapter 12).

Closely associated with community is place. Daoists have tended to place a strong emphasis on place, especially intentional communities living in hermitages, temples, or monasteries in natural environs (see also Chapter 1). Typical examples include Taiqing gong (Palace of Great Clarity), an oceanside monastery near Qingdao, Shandong, and Yuquan yuan (Temple of the Jade Spring), a mountain monastery near Huayin, Shaanxi. These places reveal one resolution of the above-mentioned tension between wildness and cultural refinement in Daoism. On the one hand, these places are highly cultured: they are temple compounds that house monastics adhering to a regulated life, which consists of a daily schedule, simple vegetarian meals, no intoxicants, celibacy, and cenobitic monasticism. The temple compound also includes altars to specific gods, liturgical performances, and other dimensions of Daoist culture, such as calligraphy and temple boards (see Chapter 15). On the other hand, the temples exist within a moreencompassing wild environment. It is filled with granite boulders, untamed trees, and wild birds and animals. Both temple compounds located in the surrounding locale remind one of Chinese landscape paintings: the monastics and temples are barely noticeable from the viewpoint of landscape and cosmos. Finally, although the mountains are “wild” on some level, they are traversed by walking paths and mountain trails; they also house other smaller hermitages and temples. There is a way in. There is a space for human residence and participation.

Thus, place-specific community is centrally important in Daoism. One might go so far as to say that “Daoist practice” outside of a Daoist context, Daoist community, and Daoist place lacks key elements. For Daoists, participation in the tradition involves certain values, qualities, places, and responsibilities. In terms of religious standing, it consists of connection (tong). On the most basic level, such connection refers to one’s degree of alignment and attunement with the Dao, the degree to which one is living through the Dao. In this respect we may recall the external Three Treasures of the Dao, the scriptures, and the teachers. Each one of these is an aspect of tradition, and ideally each one has a connection to the unnamable mystery and all-pervading sacred presence of the Dao.


FURTHER READING

Kohn, Livia. 2002. Living with the Dao: Conceptual Issues in Daoist Practice. E-dao (electronic) publication. Cambridge, MA: Three Pines Press.

Komjathy, Louis. 2008 (2003). Handbooks for Daoist Practice. 10 vols. Hong Kong: Yuen Yuen Institute.

Schipper, Kristofer. 1993. The Taoist Body. Translated by Karen C. Duval. Berkeley: University of California Press.

Silvers, Brock. 2005. The Taoist Manual: Applying Taoism to Daily Life.

Nederland, CO: Sacred Mountain Press.