The term “qi” 氣 in Chinese philosophical traditions has at least two senses, in some cases referring to the cosmological source of all things and in other cases to a type of clarified energy. In its cosmological sense, qi is “yiqi” (一氣) or the unified, formless qi existing prior to the arising of any distinctions. Various translators attempt to capture this cosmological sense via compound terms such as “vital stuff,” “psychophysical stuff,” and “lively material.”[i] Such coinages indicate the fundamental liveliness of existence—all so-called matter is animated. This broadest sense of qi encompasses everything, whether we mean what is condensed and palpable, as in physical objects, what is dispersed and intangible, as in the mental energies of human thoughts and feelings, or what is purified and ethereal, as in the spiritual energies of ghosts and gods. In its more limited usage, qi refers specifically to the clarified vital energy that flows around and within the environment as well as in and out of living beings in a manner similar to, and sometimes synonymous with, the breath. This sense comes to the fore, for example, when an acupuncturist tracks the meridians along which qi flows through the body, or when a fengshui practitioner facilitates the movement of qi in a given environment.
The cosmological sense of qi becomes a subject of theoretical speculation in the Song dynasty (960–1279). For example, in the Dadan zhizhi 大丹直指 or Direct Pointing to the Great Elixir, a Daoist text attributed to the scholar Qiu Chuji 丘處機 or Master Changshun 長春子 (1148–1227), the cosmogonic process is described as follows:
(1) Cosmos and earth are originally the unified qi of the great void, but at this utmost point of stillness, then there is movement. Having transformed, difference is made. The light and clear ascends, becoming yang and cosmos. The heavy and turbid descends, becoming yin and earth. Having divided and caused difference, they cannot be still. Because the cosmic qi moves first, it descends to unite with the terrestrial qi. After reaching its utmost point, it ascends again. The terrestrial qi originally does not ascend, but it mixes and unites with the cosmic qi and then stretches up to ascend. After reaching its upmost point, it descends again. The upward and downward mutually need each other to transform and give birth to the myriad things. The cosmos transforms to become the sun, moon, and stars. Earth transforms to become rivers, oceans, and mountains. One after another, the myriad things are born. (天地本太空一氣，靜極則動，變而為二。輕清向上，為陽為天，重濁向下，為陰為地。既分而為二，亦不能靜。因天氣先動，降下以合地氣，至極復升。地氣本不升，因天氣混合，引帶而上，至極復降。上下相須不已，化生萬物。天化日月星辰，地化河海山嶽，次第而萬物生。)[ii]
As is characteristic of Daoist discourses, here the ultimate source is described as the unified qi (yiqi 一氣) of the great void (taikong 太空). In context, voidness refers not to sheer nonexistence but to the undifferentiated state of primal qi that is utterly devoid of form and hence not yet describable as any “thing” at all. Many Daoist meditation practices aim at returning to this primal unity, which indicates an important point: unified qi is not only a feature of our cosmogonic origin but is a force that remains with us in the present, even after the arising of duality, marking a third option, as it were, alongside the incessant transformations of yin 陰 and yang 楊. Under the right conditions, this formless qi is available to us via spiritual practices, and the ability to draw on this potent source is often portrayed as revitalizing, refreshing, and healthy.
We see the Song-era Ruist (or “Confucian”) philosopher Zhu Xi 朱熹 (1130–1200) use both senses of qi simultaneously in trying to express the complex process by which qi is both everything but also gives rise to different types of things: “The clear part of qi becomes qi; the turbid part of qi becomes physical stuff” (氣之清者為氣，濁者為質).[iii] Here, the clarified part of primal qi is denoted simply as “qi,” while the turbid part of primal qi is referred to with a different term (zhi 質). For Zhu Xi, the arising of this distinction marks the initial division into yin 陰 and yang 楊, with turbid qi (or physical stuff) ranked as yin and clarified qi (or what is often translated as “vital energy”) ranked as yang.
But, of course, no single thing is simply “yin” or “yang” on its own. In general, yin refers to forces that settle and sink, that are dark and heavy, and that tend to condense; while yang refers to forces that rise or flow, that are clear and light, and that tend to disperse. Accordingly, the body is generally ranked as yin in relation to the mind, which is ranked as yang. But, taken separately, the mind, too, has its own yin and yang aspects. The yin aspects of the mind are “turbid” (zhuo 濁) in comparison to the yang aspects that are “clear” or “clarified” (qing 清). The clearest qi can be described as “spirit” (shen 神).
Scholarship is, precisely, the process of clarifying the qi of the mind to develop its spiritual potency.
(2) Scholarly methods as energy work
“Scholarship” is “extending knowledge” (zhizhi 致知) and “investigating things” (gewu 格物). In Ruism, these terms can connote empirical observation (such as astronomical study), but they most often refer to text-based scholarly engagement—reading the classical texts, the commentaries, and the various histories to gain a sense of the structural tendencies (li 理) that characterize humans and their worlds. In the classic text Liji 禮記 or Book of Rites, scholarship sits at a nexus point uniting personal cultivation and societal—even cosmic—transformation:
The way of great learning lies in illuminating luminous power, in renewing the people, and in coming to rest in utmost goodness. . . . The ancients, in wishing to illuminate luminous power in the world, first governed their own states. Wanting to bring govern their states, they first regulated their households. Wanting to regulate their households, they first cultivated themselves. Wanting to cultivate themselves, they first put their minds in order. Wanting to put their minds in order, they first made their intentions sincere. Wanting to make their intentions sincere, they first extended their knowledge. Extending knowledge consists in investigating things. Investigate things, and knowledge is extended. Extend knowledge, and intention becomes sincere. Make intention sincere, and the mind will be in order. Put the mind in order, and the self is cultivated. Cultivate the self, and the household is regulated. Regulate the household, and the state is governed. Govern the state, and the whole world will be at peace. From the ruler down to ordinary people, all must regard the cultivation of the self as the root.[iv]
Zhu Xi associates “extending knowledge” with the thoughts or intentions (yi 意) that the mind “emits” or sends forth (fa 發).[v] Such emissions of the mind are “sincere” (cheng 誠) or have integrity, in that inner thoughts and feelings and surrounding environmental circumstances are efficaciously attuned to each other.
This underscores the sense in which qi-based mental energies are not confined to a scholar’s so-called inner experiences but can and do extend beyond the bounds of the body. In fact, Zhu notes that “human qi and the qi of the cosmos are constantly interacting,”[vi] but of course we are not always in tune with these energetic flows or capable of managing them efficaciously. This is why, as Joseph Adler comments, in Zhu Xi’s thought “there is a moral imperative for learning, and the process of learning is a psycho-spiritual transformation that refines and clarifies one’s qi.”[vii] Adler goes on to make explicit the connections between educational techniques for refining qi and attaining sage-like sincerity or authenticity (cheng 誠): “In human beings, spirit is a quality of mind—specifically mind-qi in its finest, most free-flowing state. . . . To embody this epistemological potential . . . is to be a fully authentic (cheng) human being, a Sage.”[viii] The extension of knowledge, then, in Zhu Xi’s sense of “emitting thought,” means not only the scope of what I understand but also the efficacy of the mental energy that I put out into the world. This takes us back to the Liji’s placing of “extending knowledge” and “investigating things” at the pivot at which personal cultivation and cosmic transformation integrate.
(3) Preparing the mind for transformative thinking
Qi-cultivation practices include a range of techniques that might be described as “energy work,” including physical exercises such as contemporary qigong, contemplative meditations that settle the mind into its primordial formless state, and scholarly reading practices that palpably transform the minds of ordinary people into the minds of sages. Although such practices are believed to be highly efficacious, a qi-based model is not mechanistic or deterministic. On the one hand, qi does often behave in predictable ways—certain structural tendencies are evident to us upon observation. We can modulate the qi of our own heart-minds and bodies by engaging with and manipulating such tendencies. On the other hand, qi has a “mind of its own,” as it were, which is to say that it manifests its own dynamic power, follows its own course, and behaves with its own agency. Zhu Xi says that the “heart-mind of the universe” (tian di zhi xin天地之心) possesses a sort of “numinous awareness” (ling靈), which nonetheless differs from the “deliberative thought” (silu思慮) of humans; elsewhere he affirms that even the smallest existing things have some degree of “heart-mind” (xin心), though they may lack the power of “perception” (zhijue知覺).[ix] Hence, due to qi’s own lively agency, our attempts to manipulate it can produce unexpected or unintended results. Sometimes, we fail to achieve our own ends; sometimes our achievements exceed even our wildest expectations; and, sometimes, such achievements appear (to use a loaded term) “miraculous.” Or, as Adler says, “Only sages have minds that can penetrate and comprehend the totality of the natural/moral order. This ability also gives them ‘talents,’ such as precognition, that make them appear ‘like spirits’ to ordinary people.”[x]
Part of the key to attaining especially impressive results involves manipulating one’s own qi such that its primal power is freed and new forms are able to manifest naturally or spontaneously (ziran 自然), just as yin, yang, and the myriad things spontaneously differentiate themselves according to the tendencies of cosmogonic unfolding. In short, our practices are much more efficacious when we get our own willful egos out of the way. For the scholar, preparing to think well requires training that conditions the mind via diligent repetition. As Zhu Xi says, memorizing and reciting texts is the first step to transforming the minds of young Ruist students: “The value of a book is in the recitation of it. . . . I don’t know how the mind so naturally harmonizes with the qi, feels uplifted and energized, and remembers securely what it reads” (書只貴讀，讀多自然曉…這箇不知如何，自然心與氣合，舒暢發越，自是記得牢).[xi] As his language suggests, to read a book is to palpably imprint on the mind, and to memorize and recite that book, as a method of qi-cultivation, is to sustain those effects on the mind.
In line with his qi-based understanding of mental processes, Zhu often refers to dynamics such as vibration, resonance, and harmonization. He advises that we open our minds to the way a text itself resonates, even suggesting that we might sit still and hum as a method of tuning in, as it were, to a text’s meaning: “Scholars, when reading books, must collect themselves and sit up straight, relax their gaze and hum softly, empty the mind [of forms] and fully immerse themselves [in the texts]” (學者讀書，須要斂身正坐，緩視微吟，虛心涵泳).[xii] An important technique to open the mind for effective memorization involves meditative “quiet sitting” (jingzuo 靜坐): “Now, when you want to read books, you must first settle the mind so that it becomes like still water or a clear mirror” (今且要讀書，須先定其心，使之如止水，如明鏡).[xiii] Ruist meditative practices for settling the mind did not simply enable a student to correctly interpret the meaning of a particular text, but they also allowed the student to apprehend the cosmic “structure” (li 理) that a classical text transmits. Zhu Xi affirms: “When the heart-mind is not settled, it obtains no insight into structure” (心不定，故見理不得).[xiv]
In short, scholarship involves theorizing about questions whose answers may lay outside the capacities of ordinary consciousness or may evade direct confirmation via mechanistic testing procedures. Scholarly study, like other concrete qi-manipulation practices, actively courts powers that may be beyond the individual’s understanding, or which may be efficacious whether the individual understands what is going on or not. One might say that this latter aspect gestures toward the supernatural power of thinking, so long as we understand “supernatural” here to mean “ultranatural”—i.e., an especially amazing manifestation of the same forces that already characterize the cosmos around us.
References
Adler, Jospeh. “Varieties of Spiritual Experience: Shen in Neo-Confucian Discourse.” In T. Wei-ming and M. E. Tucker (eds), Confucian Spirituality Vol. 2,120–48. New York: Crossroad, 2004.
Angle, Stephen C. and Justin Tiwald. 2017. Neo-Confucianism: A Philosophical Introduction. Cambridge: Polity Press.
Daxue 大學. 2011. In Chinese Text Project, edited by Donald Sturgeon. https://ctext.org/liji/da-xue/zh.
Fox, Russell Arben. 1997. “Confucian and Communitarian Responses to Liberal Democracy.” The Review of Politics 59, no. 3 (summer): 561–592.
Gardner, Daniel K., trans. 1990. Learning to Be a Sage: Selection from the Conversations of Master Chu, Arranged Topically, by Chu Hsi [Zhu Xi]. Berkeley: University of California Press.
Ivanhoe, Philip J. 2016. Three Streams: Confucian Reflections on Learning and the Moral Heart-Mind in China, Korea, and Japan. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Johnston, Ian and Wang Ping, trans. 2012. Daxue and Zhongyong: Bilingual Edition. Hong Kong: The Chinese University Press.
Rŏsker, Jana S. 2012. Traditional Chinese Thought and the Paradigm of Structure (Li 理) (Cambridge: Cambridge Scholars Publishing.
Zhu Xi 朱熹. 2011. Zhuzi yulei 朱子語類. In Chinese Text Project, edited by Donald Sturgeon. http://ctext.org/zhuzi-yulei/zh.
[i] Angle and Tiwald 2017, Gardner 1990, and Ivanhoe 2016, respectively.
[ii] Komjathy 118–119, Belamide 185, https://ctext.org/wiki.pl?if=gb&chapter=156494.
[iii] http://ctext.org/dictionary.pl?if=gb&id=586336
[iv] Daxue 大學, passages 1 and 2. For my translation, I consulted the English version in Johnston and Ping, Daxue and Zhongyong: Bilingual Edition, 135.
[v] See Ian Johnston and Wang Ping, trans., 2012, 135.
[vi] Qtd. in Adler 2004, 125.
[vii] Ibid., 132.
[viii] Ibid., 141.
[ix] Zhu Xi, Zhuzi yulei, https://ctext.org/zhuzi-yulei/, 理氣上and性理. See a fuller discussion of these degrees of awareness in Zhu Xi’s thought in Rŏsker 2012, 132.
[x] Adler, 141.
[xi] Zhu Xi, Zhuzi yulei, https://ctext.org/zhuzi-yulei/, 學四, passage 65. My translations follows Gardner 1990, 137–138.
[xii] Zhu Xi, Zhuzi yulei, https://ctext.org/zhuzi-yulei/, 學五, passage 21. See Gardner 1990, 147.
[xiii] Zhu Xi, Zhuzi yulei, https://ctext.org/zhuzi-yulei/11/zh. Also: Gardner, trans., Learning to Be a Sage, 145).
[xiv] See Gardner 1990, 145.