Asian Religions, page 12
In these and other respects, then, Taoism is a religion of “immanence” – the integration of yin and yang, of death and life, humans and spirits. We will explore this theme further in Chapter 12.
Notes
1 Richard J. Smith, Fortune-Tellers and Philosophers: Divination in Traditional Chinese Society (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1993), passim.
2 Not to be confused with Japanese Shintō, which uses the same characters. What to call the “religion of the people” has been debated for several generations. In addition to “popular religion,” scholars have employed the expressions “folk religion,” “common religion,” “local religion,” and “community religion”; it is this spatial dimension of locality and community that we will emphasize here.
12
Personal Dimensions of Yin–Yang Cosmology
Taoism emphasizes a holistic conception of personal identity, that is, a conception that sees the various aspects of personal identity as whole and unified. This is less the case in Western religious thought, which has (at least traditionally) regarded the self as “bifurcated” – divided by two opposing forces, spiritual and material, which are often at odds with each other. When the New Testament writer Paul said that “the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak,” he was talking about a personal struggle for dominance within the self – his hope being, of course, that his spiritual aspect would be dominant and that he would be able to overcome physical temptation and live a good and pure life.
In Taoism the self is not at war with itself. Rather the constituent parts of the self – physical, mental, and spiritual – are integrated. In fact they are composed of the same “substance,” qi (氣), the matter-energy that underlies all things. Recall from the Chinese cosmogonic myth that the primordial qi at the time of creation manifests itself in two kinds of energy: active yang energy and receptive yin energy. Within a person, too, qi expresses both yin and yang energy, and it does so in all three facets of the self: body, mind, and spirit. This holistic conception is one of the reasons why it is difficult to pull out the religious dimensions of Taoism and separate them from the physical or the psychological ones: the Chinese see these as complementary, interpenetrating parts of a whole.
The Self as a Psychosomatic Whole
It is almost a “new discovery” in the modern West that body and mind impact each other. Emotional states can have long-lasting effects on our physical health, and, in the “reverse” direction, continuing refinement of psychoactive drugs is proving successful in treating psychological disorders. In terms of spiritual self-cultivation, Westerners are experimenting with “embodied” forms of religious practice and are learning to appreciate the spiritual value of physical exercises such as yoga and taijiquan (太極拳, “shadow-boxing”).
Chinese have recognized these interconnections for centuries, and holistic awareness is a major theme of Taoist texts and ritual practices. Much of the Taoist Canon – a voluminous body of texts that has only recently been catalogued for Western scholars – is medical in nature, describing medications, exercises, and rituals designed to improve and extend one's life. Chinese medicine emphasizes the interrelationships between physical and mental health: a traditional doctor is likely not only to observe one's acute symptoms, but to check the breath and the pulse, to examine the body's extremities (hands and feet), and to query the patient and his family about diet, sleep, exercise, work, family life, and other personal matters of a “psychological” nature. The doctor's prescription will include herbal medications that are boiled into a soup, yoga and exercise, and family counseling designed to address conflicts or strains that impact both the mind and the body.
Taoism also promotes a healthy attitude toward sexuality. Taoist “sex manuals” have made a splash in the West, and, while their importance is somewhat exaggerated with regard to the history of Taoism, they certainly are consistent with Taoist principles and precedents. Sex enhances life, not only emotionally but also physically. Taoist sexual practices are controlled, even “unimpassioned”; they follow strict ritual guidelines. They are characterized by restraint, not by desire, and they envision love-making as a form of physical, mental, and spiritual self-cultivation, ideally as a cooperative pursuit between two willing partners. People – men especially – can have too much sex, and Taoist manuals prescribe limits; but people can also have too little, and, with the exception of a celibate tradition modeled on Buddhist monasticism – Quanzhen (全真) Taoism, still practiced in a few secluded abbeys in the mountains – Taoism has never condemned sex as such. Sex life, as long as it is healthy – not profligate, overly passionate, or too physically draining – is a basic principle of Taoist practice. Sex and spirituality are perfectly consistent, even inter-connected.
Once, when hiking in the mountains, I spent a few nights at an inn “between the waters and clouds” (水雲間, shuiyunjian), as it was so fittingly named. The proprietor, an 80-year-old gentleman who did not look one day over 60, told me how he had left his successful dental practice in a big city to retire to this mountain retreat, with its foggy evenings and crisp mornings. Whenever I came upon him, he was carrying a pair of paring shears, clipping and pruning, walking up and down the mountain paths. He was certainly a recluse in the modern world, wearing a constant smile of satisfaction and wellness. His wife, a woman of indeterminate age with a ruddy complexion and an addictive recipe for rose-hip-flavored peanuts (which she stir-fried at breakfast time), also commented on her husband's improved health since his retirement. And she noted without a touch of embarrassment: “our sex life is better now than it was in our 20s.”
The conception of the body as a psychosomatic whole means that “health” is multidimensional. Just as an unhealthy sex life (too much or too little of it) affects one emotionally (one may feel lonely, or obsessed, or out of sorts due to sexual dissatisfaction), so other personal habits, too, have effects that are surprisingly broad-ranging. However subtle, these effects do influence one's quality of life. In addition to a robust but regulated sex life, we can cite other Taoist practices that promote physical, psychological, and spiritual well-being:
sleep regulated by sunshine – going to bed early, getting up early;
regular exercise – slow, repetitive motions that stretch and extend the body;
motion exercises of bodily parts (eyes, toes, tongue, teeth-clicking, etc.);
massage – which stimulates the circulation of blood and qi energy, and thereby all the nerves and muscles of the body;
walking and hiking;
breathing mountain air;
breathing sea air;
praying to gods of health and longevity;
tea culture – preparing tea, drinking tea, conversation and relaxation;
artistic expression – Taoist arts include calligraphy, ink painting, and traditional handicrafts (knot-tying, molding and sculpting, flower arranging, puppetry, and kite-building);
leisure activities;
mind-emptying activities such as meditation and deep breathing;
alcohol – consumed in moderation;
reclusion – spending some time alone for quiet and contemplation.
If we limit ourselves to a more traditional definition of religion as supernaturalism, then there would appear to be only one truly “religious” activity among these practices. But Taoism is a holistic spiritual discipline that is much more inclusive than worship and prayer.
Yin–Yang Souls and Spirits
Chinese conceive of the body as containing not just one soul, as in the West, but ten: three yang souls, called hun (魂), and seven yin souls, called po (魄). This formulation can be dated to a group of “neo-Confucian” texts in the Song Dynasty, but it was fully integrated into Taoist theory and practice. Literally hun and po mean “cloud souls” and “white souls” respectively, but these concepts are more accurately rendered as “cloud-borne souls” and “bone-adhering souls,” because the ultimate destiny of the souls is both to dissipate into the heavens and into their own rebirth (which is what the hun souls do) and to adhere to the bones and remain with the corpse (which is what the po souls do). The coexistence of these two physically and metaphysically distinct destinies explains why Chinese make offerings to their ancestors both within the home and at the graveside. The hun souls are represented by a vermillion dot centered on a spirit tablet placed on an altar within the home; here the ancestor receives daily offerings of meals prepared for the family. If the family is strong and prosperous, the spirit tablets are preserved for generations, often in a spirit hall erected specifically for this purpose. Theoretically at least, the hun souls receive offerings for centuries.
The po souls stay with the body and are buried with the bones. Traditionally, the bones are periodically disinterred, cleaned, and reburied; but I have seen this practiced only on two occasions, once in Fujian Province and once in Taiwan. More commonly, the po souls receive offerings at the gravesite, both on the anniversary of the deceased's death-day and on the Qingming Festival in April every year. Since the bones eventually “turn to dust,” the po souls also disappear, and graveside offerings usually end after three generations.
What is the function of the ten souls for the living? As the body is regarded as a single, multifaceted whole, the souls have both physical and psychological functions. The three hun souls are yang-oriented: they are masculine, active, and circulatory. One is located in the brain and is responsible for the activity of the mind; the second is located in the heart and is responsible for the activity of the will; the third is located in the sexual organs and is responsible for conception. Their active circulation is important for good physical and mental health: sexual/conceptual energy flows up the back's qi meridians and inspires creative thinking; thinking is put into action by the activity of will. People whose sexual energy is limited to the sex organs, being deprived of the directed flow to the brain, act impulsively and passionately, in a way that is destructive both to themselves and to others. People who “think too much” and are afraid to put thought into action also lack the proper circulation of the hun soul's conceptual energies; they suffer blockages that can lead to depression and stomach aches. People who are willful but have no outlet for their passions in the form of healthy sexuality find themselves frustrated and torn; they may suffer from high blood pressure and shortness of breath.
These traditional ideas about the circulation of energy and the correlative impact of the neurological, circulatory, and reproductive organs may strike us as pre-scientific, but it is difficult to deny that they work at a psychological level. It is important to have sexual energy and thoughtful reflection in balance, matched by the “heart” of both action and restraint. Psychologically, if not physically, the proper balancing and circulation of these energies does seem to promote a healthier and happier life.
The seven po souls are located in several other organs of the body such as the spleen, the liver, the gall bladder, and the endocrine system. Psychologically, they are associated with seven emotions: joy, anger, pleasure, sorrow, like, dislike, and desire. The Taoist tradition has never tried to suppress emotion, as we will see in Hindu yoga and in Buddhist meditation; nor does it judge some emotions to be positive or desirable and other emotions to be negative or undesirable, as we see in Western philosophical reflections on the “passions” – where joy and pleasure are deemed to be “good” emotions and anger and sorrow “bad.” Rather all of the emotions are important and should be experienced and expressed over the course of life in a psychologically healthy way. Although the po souls are not “circulatory,” like the hun souls, they too should be balanced. They are yin-oriented because they are fundamentally passive – or, more accurately, reactive: they represent healthy, natural responses to things we see or hear, to things that others may do or say to us, and even to thoughts, memories, and reflections that we may bring to mind. A healthy emotional life, including both “positive” and “negative” emotions, is both psychologically and physically beneficial to human well-being.
Taoist Long Life and Immortality
If there is a single, overarching goal of religious Taoism across centuries of practice, it is long life and the indefinite extension of long life, immortality. While immortality is not upheld as a practical goal by most Chinese today, long life is certainly valued, not only for the wisdom that comes from old age, but as a result of the inherently positive view of life that Taoists have always promoted. In the Taoist view, whether we are talking about philosophical Taoism or religious Taoism, life is made for living, and to be vital, active, engaged, and youthful well into old age is a universal Chinese aspiration. If I can live to the age of 80 with the youthful vigor of a person half my age, then how much more enjoyable my life can become! And, if to 100, all the more so. A practitioner of Taoist self-cultivation (which involves various exercises and meditation practices) once said to me: “From the moment you begin this practice, if you do it regularly and consistently, your age-appearance will not change. If you begin at 30, you will retain the youthfulness of a 30-year-old well into old age.”
Over many centuries, various practices have been recommended for achieving deathless existence. Some of these were “alchemical”: they consisted in the consumption of certain herbs and minerals – including some we now know to have been poisonous: the early adepts claimed they produced “fake deaths” – and in the avoidance of others, including rice. While no longer practiced, Taoist alchemy has influenced the Chinese consumption of healthy legumes and dark green vegetables, limitations on the intake of meat and strong vegetables (onions and garlic), and the proliferation of innumerable vitamins and medicinal supplements (which remain very much in vogue among Chinese). Other “alchemical” practices were “internal”: the basic principle here was to treat the body as a circulating system, enhancing qi energy while not allowing qi to dissipate or leave the body. One form of internal alchemy consisted in ritual sexual intercourse, where qi or seminal energy should be “stimulated” but prevented from leaving the body: for men, by avoiding ejaculation, and for women, by “slaying the red dragon,” that is, by suspending menstruation through the cultivation of the “holy embryo.” All of these alchemical practices enhance energy circulation, such that, if they are practiced correctly, the body becomes a self-perpetuating machine.
In Chapter 13 we will explore contemporary manifestations of Taoism as a global religious phenomenon, but we can conclude this chapter by pointing out that, while some traditional conceptions may now seem antiquated and even superstitious, the basic orientation of Taoist self-cultivation is appealing on a number of levels:
Taoism describes a holistic, balanced, and well-integrated conception of personal identity.
Taoism promotes healthy living and recognizes the influence of diet, exercise, and sexuality on psychological and spiritual well-being.
Taoism defines the religious dimensions of life in both supernaturalistic and naturalistic terms.
Taoism celebrates a “free and easy” lifestyle, in tune with nature and with one's own natural inclinations, while at the same time controlling and harnessing emotional and physical desires.
Taoism “overcomes death” by promoting healthy attitudes and practices well into old age; elders are treated as vital members of family and society.
Taoism provides practical, detailed instructions both for the preparation of homeopathic medicines and balanced, delicious meals and for the performance of physical exercises, sexual practices, and religious and ritual behaviors that are spiritually enlivening and ennobling.
Survey 2 Principles of Philosophical and Religious Taoism
This survey can be found at http://goo.gl/PkEJfK and explores your own interest in adapting Taoist models for personal self-cultivation. Which of these values and behaviors strike you as meaningful and important? Which do you think have prescriptive force: not just describing what East Asian cultures have valued in the past, but also prescribing constructive solutions to global disequilibrium and to issues of contemporary concern?
13
Taoism as a Global Religious Phenomenon
Whereas historians used to limit “Taoism” to an ancient philosophy of mystical anti-rationalism, we now know that Taoism continued to evolve and develop. It came to include not just philosophical texts, but also church-like institutions, rites, and ceremonies with hundreds, if not thousands of ritual instruction manuals; a rich tradition of physical and hygienic practices, all with the goal of reaching long life or immortality; a pantheon of terrestrial and celestial deities; and mythologies related to their lives and heavenly existence. Of course, historians have been aware of these religious elements for a long time – and all of these beliefs and practices continue to exist – but in the past we tended to denigrate them as “superstition” or “folk religion,” not realizing that they are highly elaborate, intellectually sophisticated, and ritually complex and that they are part of the Taoist tradition. “Taoism” therefore includes much more than the teachings of Laozi and his immediate followers. It is rather a religious tradition with certain identifiable features:
a priesthood, composed primarily of ritual specialists;
rituals that benefit individuals or social communities by tapping into the power of the Dao; and
a canon of religious texts (one of the most voluminous canons in the world's religions), including hundreds of scriptures, commentaries, treatises, and manuals.
