Yan Runqing
The Laozi (Tao Te Ching) describes a supremely profound state of life: whoever attains the Great Tao can not only live long and see far but also possess ultimate wisdom. Yet how to reach that state of the Tao is what people care about most, and it is the most crucial question. Unfortunately, the Laozi does not treat this in a dedicated, detailed discussion, and the methods in it appear scattered and vague. Even now, several of the better-known commentaries seem to hold back what they want to say and remain hazy and hard to grasp. Grounded in the surface meaning of the Laozi, consulting the interpretations of various commentators (1), and drawing on my own experience, I attempt to dig into and summarize this question, exploring the basic approach and main content of its method of cultivating the Tao in three steps: the entry gate to the Tao, the advanced technique, and the ultimate method of the heart.
1. “Concentrating Qi to Attain Softness” as the Entry Gate to the Tao
Taoism has a very complete and detailed program for cultivating the Tao: refining essence into qi, refining qi into spirit, refining spirit to return to emptiness, and refining emptiness to merge with the Tao. Within it, concentrating qi to attain softness is a foundational practice that must be gone through, and also the most effective means of entering the Tao.
The Laozi says: “In concentrating your qi and attaining softness, can you be like an infant?” (chapter 10). For now we may understand this as regulating the breath until it is concentrated and undisturbed and the thinking mind is orderly. In this process, the fewer one's selfish desires, the softer and more concentrated the breath becomes, and the less one falls into the “sitting illnesses” of distracting thoughts or dull drowsiness, until at last one is pure, soft, concentrated, and simple, “like an infant.”
As for how to reach this state of “softness,” it can be elaborated from three aspects.
The first is how to regulate the breath. The Laozi does not specifically record the steps of regulating the breath; it speaks only in broad terms. But from ancient times to the present, the breath-regulating methods of Taoist philosophy and the Taoist religion have been broadly similar, their core being to concentrate on the breath and reduce the disturbance and harm that thoughts cause to body and mind. Specific methods include “counting the breath” and “listening to the breath.” Here we can supplement this with the “method of turning the light around and regulating the breath” from The Secret of the Golden Flower (Taiyi Jinhua Zongzhi): “Intelligence is all just one spiritual light. When sitting, lower the eyelids like a curtain, fix a standard, and then let go. But if you fear you cannot let go completely, keep your mind listening to the breath. The going out and coming in of the breath must not be audible to the ear; listen only to its soundlessness. As soon as there is sound, it is coarse and floating and does not enter; when it is fine, be patient, lighter and subtler still; the more you let go the subtler it becomes, and the subtler the stiller. After a long time, suddenly the subtle breath stops altogether.” (2) Nothing could state more clearly how to regulate the breath and attain softness. This accords with the central idea of the Laozi's teaching on the Tao. The most refined breath regulation is what Zhuangzi described: “The Perfected of old slept without dreams and woke without worries; they ate without relish, and their breathing was deep, deep. The Perfected breathe from their heels; ordinary people breathe from their throats.” (3) In fact, this and the “method of turning the light around and regulating the breath” differ only in degree, in level of progress, or in the words used to describe them; in the end they return to one, and are no different from what the Laozi calls “concentrating qi to attain softness.”
The second is the softening of body and mind. On the Laozi's “concentrating qi to attain softness,” the commentators offer many apt interpretations. Wang Bi holds: “Concentrating means relying on. Attaining means reaching the utmost. It means relying on the qi of naturalness and reaching the harmony of utmost softness.” (4) Heshang Gong also says: “The mind should be concentrated, harmonious, and soft, and the spirit and qi will be real and present.” (5) In fact, breath and the softening of body and mind are unified. When the breath is regulated and concentrated, body and mind naturally become tame and soft; when body and mind are soft, the breath naturally becomes concentrated and pure. “For when the mind is fine, the breath is fine; when the mind is one, it moves the qi. When the breath is fine, the mind is fine; when the qi is one, it moves the mind. To settle the mind one must first nurture the qi, because the mind offers no place to take hold, so one uses the qi as the starting point. This is what is called guarding the pure qi.” (6) Concentrating qi and attaining softness function as one, promoting each other on the way into the Tao.
The third is doing the work in daily life. The better one practices “keeping to softness and not contending” in daily life, the more upright one's “heart and qi” become, and the softer and deeper the concentration of qi will be in stillness. Hence the Laozi says: “The highest good is like water. Water is good at benefiting the ten thousand things without contending, and it dwells in places that people disdain; thus it is close to the Tao. In dwelling, it is good at choosing the ground; in the heart, good at depth; in giving, good at kindness; in speech, good at trustworthiness; in governing, good at order; in affairs, good at ability; in action, good at timing. Only because it does not contend is it free from blame.” (chapter 8) “Seeing the small is called clarity; keeping to softness is called strength.” (chapter 52) This also shows that Laozi's method of cultivating the Tao is not a few isolated steps; it is in fact bound up with every moment and every affair of life. The more upright one's conduct and the higher one's virtue, the deeper the level of concentrating qi to attain softness.
Although it is called the “entry gate to the Tao,” this level is in truth both the shallowest and the deepest, just as the Laozi says: “My words are very easy to understand and very easy to practice. Yet no one in the world can understand them, no one can practice them.” (chapter 70) It includes both dedicated practice in seated meditation and the lofty requirement of being unbound by movement or stillness. If one can enter this gate of the Tao, one then faces a deeper level of emptiness and stillness.
2. “Attaining Emptiness and Keeping Stillness” as the Advanced Technique
“Attaining emptiness and keeping stillness” is both a theory of states and a theory of practice. How does one go further and reach the “emptiness and stillness” of the Great Tao? The Laozi's teaching on the Tao mentions several key points, which can be developed here under four headings:
First, further training in “concentrating qi to attain softness.” “Emptiness and stillness” is in fact a deeper layer of “concentrating qi to attain softness.” “Attain the utmost emptiness; keep stillness steadfast” (chapter 16), and one can ensure that the state of the Great Tao continues unbroken.
Second, “observing” the returning in cultivating the Tao. The Laozi says: “The ten thousand things arise together, and I observe their return.” (chapter 16) “Observing” here belongs to practical method and is rich in meaning. At the first level it can be understood as observing and examining the rise and fall of one's own state, so as to “cleanse the mysterious mirror.” This is the individual's further nurturing, maintaining, and purifying of the practice of “emptiness and stillness.” At the deeper level it means viewing things through the Tao and using the Tao. As chapter 40 says: “Returning is the movement of the Tao.” Turning back to observe is in fact the arising of the wondrous function of the Great Tao. Wang Anshi explains: “Return means the root. ‘The ten thousand things arise together, and I observe their return’—without attaining utmost emptiness and keeping stillness steadfast, one cannot take part in this.” (7) He holds that unless one observes from the fundamental state of the Tao, one cannot truly attain emptiness and keep stillness.
How exactly does one “observe”? The Laozi holds that “ever without desire, one observes its wonders; ever with desire, one observes its boundaries” (chapter 1). One can observe from “non-being” and also from “being,” because both being and non-being are manifestations of the Great Tao. Wang Bi likewise holds that “observing” is “observing their going and returning through emptiness and stillness. All being arises from emptiness, and all movement arises from stillness; so although the ten thousand things move and act together, in the end they return to emptiness and stillness—this is the utmost steadfastness of things.” (8) In short, once one enters the state of emptiness and stillness, one sees the Tao in non-being and sees the Tao in being; inner and outer, movement and stillness are all the working of one whole and do not stand in opposition.
Third, keeping to softness. The whole Laozi expounds one core idea: “Keep to softness, dwell below, do not contend.” To preserve oneself, one must withdraw; to go forward, one must stay behind; to rise high, one must dwell low. “Keeping to softness and dwelling below” is one of the “Three Treasures” of the Laozi. The Laozi says: “I have three treasures that I hold and keep: compassion, frugality, and not daring to be first in the world.” (chapter 67) “Not daring to be first in the world” is staying behind. Keeping to softness and dwelling below is not failing to advance, but moving toward union with the Great Tao, opening life in every direction, and so better grasping the whole. As chapter 7 says: “Heaven is long and earth enduring. Heaven and earth can be long and enduring because they do not live for themselves; thus they can live long. Therefore the sage puts himself last and yet finds himself first; treats himself as outside and yet his self is preserved.” Chen Guying also says: “The person of the Tao puts himself behind and so wins love and respect; places himself outside and so preserves his life.” (9) Researchers often take these passages as using cunning to protect oneself, but in fact this is the true working of the wisdom of the Tao, the true state of emptiness and stillness of body and mind.
Fourth, diminishing. The Laozi's “viewing through the Tao,” “doing nothing yet leaving nothing undone,” and its methods and principles of few desires, dwelling below, and emptiness and stillness are in fact directed toward nurturing individual life. Their root lies in diminishing the obstacles of the self. The core of these obstacles is not external things but the fixed ideas formed by one's own mind. As the chapter “Rifling Trunks” of the Zhuangzi says: “Throw the six pitch-pipes into confusion, melt down the reed organs and zithers, stop up the ears of blind Kuang, and only then will people in the world keep their hearing within; destroy patterns and designs, scatter the five colors, glue shut the eyes of Li Zhu, and only then will people in the world keep their sight within.” (10)
That is why there are the sayings about abandoning sageliness and discarding knowledge, abandoning benevolence and discarding righteousness. The Laozi says in chapter 48: “In pursuing learning, one gains day by day; in pursuing the Tao, one loses day by day. Losing and losing again, until one reaches non-action. Doing nothing, yet nothing is left undone.” Those who truly cultivate the Great Tao value “diminishing.” Diminishing to the utmost is the pure original root of life, the primal point that merges with the “Tao.” The essence of “attaining emptiness and keeping stillness” is also diminishing to the utmost so that the original nature of the Great Tao appears. That is why the Laozi repeatedly advises that even the sage should “discard the extreme, discard the extravagant, discard the excessive” (chapter 29).
The “technique” of this section is in fact hard to quantify into a few fixed standards or figures. The wonder of its application lies in the mind alone. Its core is keeping body and mind concentrated and soft, entering emptiness and stillness, as if present and as if absent, continuing unbroken. At such times, the qualities of the “Tao”—self-sufficient, self-generating, able to nourish the ten thousand things—show themselves. And this is the “acting through non-action” to be discussed below.
3. “Acting Through Non-Action” as the Ultimate Method of the Heart
What is “acting through non-action”? “Acting through non-action” is both the manifest function of the state of the Tao and the guiding principle by which the individual resonates with and comprehends the “Tao.” The mainstream interpretation today usually glosses “non-action (wuwei)” as “not acting,” but judging from the Laozi's own words, this meaning can perhaps be taken further. The Laozi says: “Non-being is the name of the beginning of heaven and earth.” (chapter 1) “The ten thousand things under heaven are born from being, and being is born from non-being.” (chapter 40) The implication is that “non-being” is the “Tao,” and “non-action” is really “the action of the Tao.” That is, emptying oneself into non-being, one lets the Great Tao act naturally of itself, doing everything and accomplishing everything. Therefore “acting through non-action” is being merged with the Tao and letting all wonders run their course. In this sense, “acting through non-action” is truly the ultimate method of the heart in the Laozi's way of cultivating the Tao. As the ultimate method, its great function is concentrated in three aspects.
First, using “non-action” to guide the cultivation of the Tao. Ordinarily, people act from the perspective of a limited individual, and so they are inevitably hampered and frustrated at every turn, with limited results. Only by communicating with the Tao, standing at the summit of the Great Tao, and “acting through non-action” can one truly complete laying the foundation before the Tao, the entry gate to the Tao, and attaining emptiness and keeping stillness, and so enter the Great Tao, gaining boundless possibilities of vision and power. At this level, the core of “acting through non-action” lies in entering deep stillness and concentration, hazy and indistinct, continuing unbroken as if present, experiencing “deep, as if the ancestor of the ten thousand things” (chapter 4), and looking back from the height of the “Tao” on all methods of cultivation and all problems of the self—finally achieving accord with heaven and the Tao: “Humanity follows earth, earth follows heaven, heaven follows the Tao, and the Tao follows what is so of itself” (chapter 25). Chapter 54 of the Laozi makes this point: “Cultivate it in yourself, and its virtue will be genuine. Cultivate it in the family, and its virtue will be abundant. Cultivate it in the village, and its virtue will be lasting. Cultivate it in the state, and its virtue will be plentiful. Cultivate it in the world, and its virtue will be universal. Therefore, view the self through the self, the family through the family, the village through the village, the state through the state, the world through the world. How do I know the world is so? By this.” Laozi could achieve a whole series of attainments in the Great Tao because he viewed things “by this.” “This” represents the application of the “Tao” at each level. Wang Anshi holds: “The self has the Tao of the self, so view the self through the self; the family has the Tao of the family, so view the family through the family; and so on to the village, the state, and the world. ‘How do I know the world is so?’—it is by viewing through this Tao. He says ‘by this’ because this is the same as the Tao, while that is different from the Tao.” (11) In other words, to cultivate the Great Tao one must enter the state of non-action and view through the Tao, cultivate through the Tao, and use the Tao; only then can one be intimate with the Great Tao, the self one with the Tao.
Second, using “non-action” flexibly to establish all that exists in the world, that is, how to use it wondrously in the world. One point needs restating: the thought of the Laozi arose to solve the problems of human beings themselves—to “transcend” all external things and maintain a state of “non-action,” thereby reaching “nothing left undone” and maximizing the value of life. The Laozi says: “Thirty spokes share one hub; it is in its emptiness that the use of the cart lies. Clay is shaped into a vessel; it is in its emptiness that the use of the vessel lies. Doors and windows are cut to make a room; it is in its emptiness that the use of the room lies. Thus what is there gives benefit, and what is not there gives use.” (chapter 11) It constantly stresses the tangible effect of the “Tao.” In government: “Win the world by not meddling.” (chapter 57) “Do not exalt the worthy, and the people will not contend. Do not value goods that are hard to obtain, and the people will not become thieves. Do not display what is desirable, and the people's hearts will not be disturbed. Therefore the sage governs by emptying their hearts and filling their bellies, weakening their ambitions and strengthening their bones, always keeping the people without cunning and without desire, so that the clever dare not act. Act through non-action, and there is nothing that is not well governed.” (chapter 3) In cultivating the Tao, one must lose and lose again until one reaches non-action. In teaching, one must “handle affairs through non-action and practice the teaching without words” (chapter 2). In preserving the body and keeping the heart whole, one must “live long and see far” and have “no place for death.” But all of this must be done through the idea of “non-action”; only under the thorough application, guidance, and illumination of non-action will it not turn into its opposite and fall into the harm of gain and desire.
Third, using “non-action” to settle one's own life. The final aim of the Laozi's teaching on the Tao is to bring people to merge completely with the Tao and so reach a state of being at ease, self-sufficient, and self-acting. Human life in the ordinary sense exists in the basic form of desire, which inevitably brings limitation and all kinds of deficiency. Non-action in fact broadens and maximizes the value of life, no longer confined to the narrow level of desire. The Laozi says: “Is it not because he is selfless that he can fulfill his self?” (chapter 7) From its overall expression it can be seen that when a person reaches the state of non-action, life displays a fullness, concentration, and purity lacking nothing; one can advance or withdraw, gain or lose, and be unmoved by favor or disgrace. And one can keep a lucid sense of existence in the face of chaotic, disordered desires: “Abandon learning and there is no worry. Between ‘yes’ and ‘yea,’ how much difference is there? Between good and evil, how great is the difference? What others fear, one cannot but fear. How vast and boundless! The crowd is merry, as if enjoying a great sacrificial feast, as if climbing a terrace in spring. I alone am placid, showing no sign, like an infant not yet able to smile. Weary, weary, as if with nowhere to return. The crowd all have more than enough, while I alone seem to have lost out. Mine is the heart of a fool—so muddled! Ordinary people are bright and clear; I alone am dim. Ordinary people are sharp and discerning; I alone am dull. The crowd all have their uses, while I alone am obstinate and uncouth. I alone differ from others, and value being fed by the mother.” (chapter 20) Lao Dan's state of life is self-sufficient and one with the Great Tao. “When the work is done, he withdraws” (chapter 9), placing himself in non-action, returning to his own fullness, and silently practicing the teaching without words.
From the above, almost the whole of the Laozi revolves around how to merge with the Tao and how to set all wonders in motion. The Laozi is in fact tirelessly and repeatedly expounding one and the same thing: how to cultivate the Tao. It simply does not set out and record the concrete steps of cultivating the Tao in a dedicated, detailed way. But surveying its system of meaning as a whole, and combining it with some later commentaries and the writings of various schools on cultivating the Tao, it is not hard to discern its basic thought and method of cultivating the Tao.
(Yan Runqing, PhD in Philosophy and Religious Studies, Minzu University of China)
Notes:
(1) This article mainly draws on more than ten commentaries on the Laozi that have received considerable attention in modern times, by Heshang Gong, Wang Bi, Ge Xuan, Cheng Xuanying, Lu Xisheng, Du Guangting, Wang Anshi, Lü Zuqian, Chen Zhixu, Wang Fuzhi, Sun Yirang, Gu Di, and Chen Guying.
(2), (6). Lü Yan, The Secret of the Golden Flower, in Richard Wilhelm (Germany) and C. G. Jung (Switzerland), The Secret of the Golden Flower (Jinhua de Mimi), trans. Deng Xiaosong (Huangshan Publishing House, 2011), pp. 143–144, 144.
(3), (10). Zhuangzi, in Wang Xianqian, Collected Explanations of the Zhuangzi (Zhuangzi Jijie), Newly Edited Collection of the Masters (Zhonghua Book Company, 2012), pp. 55, 87.
(4), (8). Wang Bi, Commentary on Laozi's Tao Te Ching (Laozi Daodejing Zhu), collated and annotated by Lou Yulie (Zhonghua Book Company, 2013), pp. 23, 35.
(5) Heshang Gong, Chapter-and-Verse Commentary on the Laozi (Laozi Zhangju), in the Taoist Canon (Daozang), vol. 12 (Cultural Relics Publishing House, Shanghai Bookstore, and Tianjin Ancient Books Publishing House, 1988), p. 16.
(7), (11). Wang Anshi, Commentary on the Laozi (Laozi Zhu), compiled by Rong Zhaozu (Zhonghua Book Company, 1979), pp. 22, 47.
(9) Chen Guying, The Laozi with Modern Annotation and Translation (Laozi Jinzhu Jinyi) (Commercial Press, 2006), p. 101.