yo
tyler

Chapter 10

In "Holding to the One," my components are inseparable.
Qi redirects and I am as pliant as a newborn babe.
The dark mirror is immaculate.
My breath moves like a brooding hen.

Thus I can...
Care for all beings/things discretely;
Steward them without authority;
Raise and nourish them
Without expectation or attachment.

And, by this, express my original nature.


Commentary::

I have interpreted this chapter not as mystical advice to a ruler so much as a statement about the practice of meditation (here called “Holding to the One”). Either version of the chapter is sustained by the Morse code quality of the actual Chinese characters. My version assumes that the author/s speak from profound experience of meditation and are not recommending “Holding to the One” as simply a means to attain power or as a remedy for bad government.

The chapter begins with a description of the non-conceptual meditation practice that appears to be common to the various authors we call Laozi. In this case, terms found in Daoist alchemy are used. In “Holding to the One,” my components are found to be inseparable. The components here are ying (a kind of ancestral or original qi)1 and po (the basic quality of jing/embodiment). This piece may also be read such that, in meditation (stillness), my components synthesize or distill, or perhaps most clearly, the dual world vanishes. Using the analogy of synthesis or distillation, meditation produces illumination. This sense of production is not productive but wuweidao (things-as-they-are). Holding to the One simply reveals what is true-of-itself. In a moment, or after arduous eons on the meditation cushion, “it” is simply there-not manufactured by ideas or practice.

The term “Holding to the One” is thus a reference to the experience of our nature or basic condition as composed not of parts-not the body-soul dichotomy so often found in modern thinking. Our experience of meditation is not one of artificially uniting our diverse experiences2, but rather, one of simply experiencing our existence as our original nature, the mechanism of our interconnectedness to every being/thing. “One” is used here not as a reference to unity or the result of resolution or repair, but as naturally so, what is so-of-itself, original.

When we experience this naturalness/meditation, what is it like? The nature of our experience is Qi. Qi naturally redirects and I am as pliant as a newborn babe. As in the previous chapter, we are told that gathering or redirecting qi is not a particular kind of intentional action, but is like the spontaneity and flexibility of a baby. The newborn is not yet able to have preferences or make judgments. In a broader sense, Laozi is also telling us that, as we enter the experience of meditation, we are drawing near our beginnings-perhaps moving backward. This beginning is shen, the source of alchemy. Meditation is finding the gi that has no marks, no memory and no predisposition. It is unlike the stiffness we have when we assume and grasp the strenuous notion of an abiding self, an erroneous history. We are getting something of a fresh start3.

When we have naturally rebooted the qi as newborn babies, when the gi spontaneously redirects, what do we “see?” The dark mirror is immaculate. The dark mirror is neither a god who creates, nor any creation that comes to be. It is not simply a calm and clear mind. It is our mysterious original nature. The dark mirror is immaculate, not by some cleaning action or correct work, but is pristine by nature. Meditation is the naked nature of being, the constant and raw capacity to reflect. The dark mirror is not what is before the mirror or the reflection in the mirror; it is the mirror’s capacity to reflect, our capacity of being.

The next line reads, “My breath moves like a brooding hen4” The gates of Heaven and Earth (the in and out breath) are the mechanism of reciprocity we have with the “world:” the breath and the blood. How does this body, the mechanism of reciprocity, feel? The brooding hen is instinctively giving its qi, its warmth, to its unborn young, while at the same time being vigilant in its attention to its environment. Through this analogy Laozi describes the Daoist Adept as an instinctively caring and yet vigilant person, and meditation is likewise a soft yet resilient posture. The egg is unborn potentiality. The hen rests (in meditation) and goes forward (in conduct/wuwei).

What’s the “use” of this mystical experience? How does one express such a sense of life? Being familiar with our original nature, we spontaneously care for all beings/things discreetly. For Laozi, the intentional demonstration of compassion is worthless or simply sentimental (a spleen disorder in Traditional Chinese Medicine). True care is not even noticeable. Meditation gives us a sense of our interconnectedness without the mandate for dramatically “saving” any body or thing. Adepts are not saviors.

Laozi goes on to review some of the conduct of an Adept, a zuowang prac-titioner. In several places in the text it is suggested that a true Adept will, at some point, naturally be asked to lead, to have influence on others. This is done without “lording over” people. Steward them without authority. Being a model of appropriate conduct is better than winning by argument. Leniency is superior to punishment. As things unfold of themselves, what use is authority? Heaven and Earth parent everything without a plan, and if we use them as models, we can raise and nourish all we contact without expectation or attach-ment. Expectation and attachment are the basis of all disappointment and pain. Raising and nourishing beings/things in the way of Heaven and Earth is letting things be as they are. To care is to let things ripen naturally, in their own time (gi). In that sense, compassion is no different from wuweidao.

What is the result of such conduct? The fruition of meditation is the articulate expression of our nature, the dark mirror. “I relax into the enormous relatedness of all being/things5, and, by this, express my original nature.”


Footnotes::

  1. ying, elsewhere referred to as hun.
  2. a way to translate "yoga"
  3. The Xiang Er says, "The hun and po are, by nature, crystalline. The primal Qi is also crystalline. The Jing is also crystalline. The One is Dao. 'Holding to the One' is maintaining your crystalline, pristine, original nature. Where does this nature reside? It is not in any part of the body. Those that teach such ideas teach false views. The Primal Qi, descending from Beyond (Dao), has manifest as Laojun on the Kunlun Mountains and comes and goes in all human forms. Babies are still co-joined to Dao. Adepts practice being co-joined to Dao." Heshang Gong says, "Human beings live by maintaining their hun and po. Joy and hatred make the hun (liver) feel lost. Sudden fright harms the po (lungs). Hard drink and rich foods harm the liver and lungs. Keeping still, the hun embraces the One. Leaving the po in peace, it does not stray from the One. Circulating qi with the flexibility and gentleness of a newborn, our hun and po do not depart. Those who stay with the One are fearless, practice wuwei, and acquire longevity."
  4. A more literal translation of "My breath moves" would be, "The gates of Heaven and Earth open and close." Also termed the "Purple Palace," the astrological gate of Fate and Freedom.
  5. Dao