An Update

Xia Gui 夏圭 (ca. 1180-1230). Dwelling Amid Mountains and Clouds. The Palace Museum, Beijing

I am going to make some changes to my newsletter site, “Taoism Reimagined,” in the coming weeks.

The thought of a redesign has been on my mind for some months, but I waited, knowing I would need some open space to focus on it.

It’s time I get to it now.

The practice of writing here started with the single idea of Taoism. In the beginning, I just wanted to share what I know about Taoism, more like a public journal for reflections, a reference point for further research.

Like all creative endeavors, one thing can lead to another.

Changes in life can often, in unexpected ways, shape our attitudes toward things. When I look back on the past, I can still feel myself shaken by those encounters, reeling in the midst of drastic changes.

Often, I could find consolation and peace in these old pages of Taoism and Buddhism, in the lines of classical poets. To a certain extent, those “dead” words, in some unspeakable ways, become alive in my life.

I feel I owe them greatly. Perhaps the best I can do for now is to keep the records of my interactions with them through writing.

So, what’s next?

Writing here, on this platform, is having a conversation. I’m talking to my very own self. And I’m also communicating to whoever is reading these words.

This year, I want to devote more time to reading and writing about Wang Wei 王維, my favorite ancient figure. His works and the Chuang Tzu 莊子 have given me inner clarity, solace, and strength in my most helpless and hard times.

And I know a few of my readers can resonate with this. So I’ll keep this direction.

New beginnings

One big change is the sequence. I’ll shift from weekly posting to one or two monthly, theme-based posts. This would allow me to devote more time to the research needed for a few other important projects.

My training background is public policy and political science. One of the very first things I learned in policy school is that the audience matters.

I remember my professors would always emphasize the point that we should be clear who is reading those policy papers. A basic requirement for being a policy professional.

I think the logic applies to any writing practice. Still, it was quite a challenge to figure this out in writing on Substack.

But I am really glad we found each other here.

I know most of my readers are interested in Taoism. And I have some long-term plans in this direction.

The Wei-Jin Metaphysics (Wei-Jin Xuanxue 魏晉玄學) series is still an ongoing work. Perhaps a few words are needed here about “the why” behind this series, especially for my readers who are not that familiar with this topic.

Xuanxue is often considered the second stage of Taoism and, in fact, a most crucial milestone in traditional Chinese intellectual history, connecting pre-Qin (before 221 BC) thought with the rise of Neo-Confucianism in the Song and Ming dynasties.

And it was also the bridge that helped localize Mahayana Buddhism in traditional China.

Some of the foundational texts, such as the Diamond Sutra, the Vimalakirti Sutra, and the Lotus Sutra, translated by Kumārajīva (344-413 AD) from 401 to 406 AD, are still authoritative in academic research, as well as still widely popular in Chinese-speaking societies.

Kumārajīva’s time overlapped with the remaining years of the Eastern Jin 東晉 dynasty (317-420 AD). He was aware that the translated sutras would have to speak the language of the particular cultural and social circumstances.

That means he must have been proficient with the Chuang Tzu, as some of its core ideas, such as “forgetting the self (wangwo 忘我)” and “no-mind (wuxin 無心)” or the mind as a mirror were already there.

Kumārajīva’s translation is usually succinct yet poetic, blending metaphysical depth with a unique fluidity that resonated with the “pure conversation” (qingtan 清談) — with a focus on the philosophies of Chuang Tzu and Lao Tzu — of the Wei-Jin literati.

It is said that Huineng 惠能 (638-713) from the Tang dynasty, the Sixth Patriarch of Ch’an Buddhism, after hearing a line from Kumārajīva’s Diamond Sutra, “A bodhisattva should develop a mind that alights upon nothing whatsoever; and so should he establish it (應無所住 而生其心),” got his awakening. And hence, the founding and flourishing of the Southern School.

Though the philosophical pathways of Taoism and Ch’an are different, they converge in a shared state of spiritual liberation. With the heart-mind in a state of non-abiding, non-grasping, one enters a spontaneous course of action.

For now, I need to wrap up writing Ji Kang 嵇康. He will appear as a central figure in another planned writing series, as he was historically that important as a member of the Seven Sages of the Bamboo Grove (zhulin qixian 竹林七賢), and a cultural icon for centuries.

And there is the Huang-Lao Taoism (Huanglao daojia 黃老道家).

I am sure that by now some of you have read in my posts that it is the third pillar of the Taoist intellectual tradition.

Yet, it is the school that is often misunderstood or overlooked. Huang-Lao Taoists were statesmen-thinkers. They adopted a multidisciplinary approach, fusing theories from different schools with practices, and embodied tried-and-tested principles to prevail in life, business, and politics.

I personally have mixed feelings about this stream, as some of its ideas are blatantly anti-intellectual and anti-democratic (when aligned with the Legalist thought). But it does not deny the fact that some Taoists in this school were extremely accomplished statesmen. So a thorough research on it is required.

Also, I know some of my readers are interested in the general ideas of Tao, ziran, wu-wei, and other relevant themes, and, more importantly, in how they can be integrated into life. So I will need to revise and rearrange previous posts to make them more easily accessible.

These are the ongoing writing projects.

But I will need to keep an open inner space for the unknown, for whatever it is to be explored and written.

I will share the updated site when it’s ready.

All my best,

Yuxuan