Asian Traditions of Meditation

by Halvor Eifring

  From the Míng dynasty (1368–1644), the first case that comes to anyone’s mind is that of an influential mid-Míng advocate of the school of mind, Chén Xiànzhāng (1428–1500). Chén tried to attain a state of unity between the universal principle and his own mind by following the self-cultivation theory of the school of principle. However, being unable to achieve such unity, Chén engaged in quiet sitting. As a result, the “embodiment of his true mind” appeared before him, as though it were manifesting its physical existence constantly. After that experience, Chén was able to establish his true self, which presided over all of his actions without contradicting any ethical rules or the philosophy of the Confucian classics. Therefore, he decided to instruct his disciples in the practice of quiet sitting.6 There is also a famous case involving Luó Hóngxiān (1504–1564), one of the main figures of the Yángmíng school in the sixteenth century. Leaving behind earthly matters, Luó Hóngxiān practiced quiet sitting in the mountains for over three months. He claimed that when his quietude reached its culmination, he felt his mind traveling beyond the restrictions of time and space and experienced unity with the entire world. He commented that his physical self felt like a volcanic crater of the “substance of mind” that prevailed in the universe.7

  Thus, the experience obtained through quiet sitting, that is, the manifestation of one’s substance of mind, unrestricted by time or space—a state in which one feels as though one’s mind is the pivot and source of the energy that embraces and flows through the entire universe—was continuously discussed by Confucian scholars in premodern China. This kind of experience must therefore have been accepted as a reality by the scholars of the time. Needless to say, as we can see from the examples collected by Chén Lái, such experiences can also be attained by methods other than quiet sitting. Nonetheless, it was widely recognized that quiet sitting was one means of experiencing such psychological transformations.

  Furthermore, within the theoretical framework of the Confucian philosophy of the time, this kind of psychological transformation was viewed as the attainment of one’s original nature (xìng) and the universal principle (lǐ) inherent in the mind of all human beings. There was a widely shared idea among Confucians that “Heaven is the universal principle [Tiān jí lǐ],” and that “man’s original nature is the universal principle [xìng jí lǐ].” Based on this, Confucians thought that one could become a sage by revealing one’s original nature, which is also the heavenly principle, through certain kinds of cultivation practice. As a result, a notable number of Confucian scholars practiced quiet sitting repeatedly and confirmed it as an effective method for directly grasping the original nature inherent in one’s mind, and for the complete manifestation of one’s original nature.

  Chén Xiànzhāng, as mentioned, attempted to realize the perfect unity of universal principle and mind according to the method prescribed by a respected master of the school of principle, Zhū Xī. But having failed in this attempt, Chén practiced quiet sitting instead. This proved effective, and he was able to attain his goal. This case clearly shows what quiet sitting meant to many scholars of this period. In that era, a significant number of Confucian scholars were interested in becoming a “sage.” However, many were frustrated in their attempts at achieving this goal even when they diligently followed the course set by former great masters. For example, around the turn of the sixteenth century, Huáng Wǎn (1480–1554), a peer of Wáng Shǒurén when both were students, also faithfully practiced the approach advocated by Zhū Xī, but with no effect. As a consequence, he tried quiet sitting.8

  People like Chén and Huáng regarded as valuable guidelines accounts of those who had successfully used quiet sitting to reveal their original nature. Accounts of such episodes had accumulated since the Southern Sòng dynasty, and Chén and Huáng, too, had attempted to attain such experiences, though without success. Thus, Confucian elites repeatedly practiced quiet sitting.

  However, there were those who recognized the unique experience resulting from quiet sitting but considered it to be a dangerous method that could lead to erroneous thinking. These figures did not view such experiences as manifestations of the universal principle or of one’s original nature. For this reason, they attempted to prevent others from focusing exclusively on quiet sitting as a way of experiencing the universal principle and their original nature.

  Zhū Xī on the Problems of Quiet Sitting

  It is a well known fact that Zhū Xī, after years of exploring various schools of philosophy, developed the philosophy of “reverence” (jìng) by integrating the philosophies of quietude (jìng) and awareness-in-action. After learning various schools of philosophy in his search for the truth, Zhū focused on quietude stimulated by his master, Lǐ Tóng (1093–1163), who emphasized the significance of “observing emotions before they have germinated” (guān xǐ-nù-āi-lè wèi fā zhī zhōng). Then Zhū found true awareness-in-action, stimulated by his friend Zhāng Shì (1133–1180). Finally, by integrating these two approaches, Zhū developed the philosophy of “reverence.”9 Zhū’s view on “reverence” has been analyzed and discussed in detail by Araki Kengo and others.10 Here I would like to note that although Zhū Xī discussed the effectiveness of quiet sitting and integrated it into his practice of self-cultivation, he also avoided excessive devotion to it, because of the inherent danger he felt it presented. This is the origin of later controversies surrounding the effects of quiet sitting.11

  Zhū assumed that our perfect original nature, that is, the universal principle, is inherent in our mind, and he believed that to become a sage is to regain the ability to fully realize this original nature in our personality. However, he also believed that, for various reasons, in reality we are able to realize only a portion of that nature.12 In order to experience the perfected state of our original nature, it is necessary to focus our mind, through quiet sitting, on this original nature. At the same time, Zhū saw the investigation of the nature or principle of all external things as absolutely indispensable, since their nature is essentially identical to the original nature of our own mind.

  Zhū claimed that quiet sitting is necessary for establishing a foundation in our mind for the process of self-cultivation. At the same time, however, he also saw the need to pursue the natures or principles of all external things. He warned against the danger of focusing exclusively on quiet sitting and claimed that our innate knowledge (liángzhī) has been corrupted by the impurity of our constitution and the temptations of our desires, and that we cannot attain the correct awareness of the universal principle solely by relying on innate knowledge. Consequently, he thought that the investigation of external things, which were seen as concrete revelations of the universal principle, was indispensable in the process of regaining the true state of this principle. In other words, we cannot grasp the universal principle correctly only by seeking it in our mind through quiet sitting.13

  The psychological state generated by quiet sitting, as one focuses on one’s inner self, could be viewed as similar to the type of meditation practiced by Chán monks. As such, the practice might result in ignoring the Confucian moral principles that were recognized by Chinese intellectuals as manifestations of the universal principle. Therefore, Zhū Xī replaced quiet sitting with the practice of “reverence,” a concept that encompasses awareness both in quietude and in action.14 At times, Zhū Xī even said that the effect of quiet sitting was to better prepare oneself for external investigation and other practices by bringing focus to the otherwise scattered mind.15 In general, Zhū Xī felt it was dangerous to be absorbed in quietude. Although he was aware of its value, which he had learned from his teacher Lǐ Tóng, he saw only a limited effect from quiet sitting.

  Wáng Shǒurén on the Problems of Quiet Sitting

  According to the chronological table edited by his disciples, Wáng Shǒurén first developed his own unique views at Lóngchǎng in Guìzhōu province in 1508. When he preached his idea of “the unity of knowledge and action” (zhī xíng héyī), it caused c
onfusion among his followers, so Wáng decided to lecture on quiet sitting and achieved substantial results.16 However, he later came to the conclusion that quiet sitting had had undesirable results. When a person practices quiet sitting, according to Wáng, he tends to be absorbed by and to indulge in the realm of quietude, distancing himself from social relationships. Or he may be totally consumed by the unique experience obtained through quiet sitting and begin to talk about strange ideas that would take others by surprise. Wáng concluded that only his theory of innate knowledge of the good (liángzhī) would not lead to such problems.17

  In short, Wáng admitted the effectiveness of quiet sitting to a certain degree, but he was cautious about focusing on it specifically.18 He believed that by focusing on quiet sitting, one would tend to become distant from reality and overestimate the value of the experience resulting from quiet sitting. Thus, his support of quiet sitting was qualified. Wáng Shǒurén’s view of one’s ability to recognize the universal principle was quite different from that of Zhū Xī. Wáng believed that even an ordinary person has the ability to identify accurately the individualized expression of the universal principle in his own mind, although an ordinary person may not be aware of it. Therefore, although their opinions greatly differed, both Zhū and Wáng had a qualified view of the effects of quiet sitting. There were also discussions of the efficacy of quiet sitting among scholars of the later Yángmíng school, and Niè Bào, Luó Hóngxiān, Zōu Shǒuyì and Wáng Jī seriously engaged themselves in the development of this argument.

  Zhū Xī and Wáng Shǒurén thought that the universal principle as original nature existed inherently in each person’s mind, and they believed that regaining the complete manifestation of this original nature is the basis of sagehood. They also thought that concentrating on one’s inner self through quiet sitting could help to awaken one’s original nature. This focus on the inner self is completely lacking in daily life, when one’s attention is spread out among a variety of external matters. Quiet sitting, therefore, can lead to the experience of certain psychological transformations. Nonetheless, from the perspective of Confucian principles, such practice could also lead in a dangerous direction. Therefore, Confucian scholars often took the stance of “not too close, not too distant” regarding quiet sitting.

  Xuē Huì and the Relativization of Confucian Values

  Zhū Xī and Wáng Shǒurén were concerned that the unique state of mind obtained by quiet sitting could bring the practitioner away from the realization resulting from the full consciousness of daily life. In fact, there are cases in which this happened. Confucian practitioners of quiet sitting were at times led to the philosophy of Chán Buddhism and the state of “flowing into languor” (liúrù kūgǎo) or “esoteric awareness and subtle enlightenment” (xuánjiě miàojué),19 thus devaluing the concrete universal principle of Confucianism and the teachings of the Classics. Xuē Huì (1489–1541), who was slightly younger than Wáng Shǒurén, is a clear example of this. On the one hand, as a Confucian scholar, he stressed the importance of not losing engagement with the affairs of the world; on the other, he claimed that the universal principle and the original nature attained at the culmination of quietude is shared by Confucianism, Lǎozǐ, and Buddhism. He even claimed that the more suitable expressions about the universal principle and the original nature are found in Buddhist scriptures and in Lǎozǐ. Thus, Xuē was heading in the direction that Zhū Xī avoided, and was also stepping further into the realm that Wáng Shǒurén was cautious about.

  Táng Shùnzhī (1507–1560) wrote a tombstone epitaph for Xuē. According to this epitaph, Xuē first devoted himself to the “learning of inner alchemy.” He put down his books and engaged in quiet sitting but was unable to achieve any state of enlightenment. Then he attempted to “converge ears and eyes and clear his mind and sit quietly,” according to the teachings of Lǎozǐ, Buddhism, or the Golden Mean. Several years later, he was able to achieve a satisfactory level of understanding, and he published texts describing his experiences, in spite of the criticism he knew this would incite.20

  By engaging in quiet sitting, Xuē found that he was able to experience the original nature that exists in the deepest layers of one’s mind. This original nature is the universal principle and the root of all teachings, and transcends the dogmatic framework of the three teachings (Confucianism, Daoism, and Buddhism). As a result, Xuē came to emphasize how meaningless it was to focus on the differences between these schools. In other words, he claimed that the three teachings are integrated in one’s mind, and that in its truly natural state, the mind is completely free and transcends any linguistic framework.21

  According to Xuē, man’s fundamental nature is the same in both Confucianism and Daoism, but while Confucian philosophy revolves around the surface of one’s mind and fails to grasp the issues of fundamental existence, Daoism focuses too much on one’s free nature and fails to expand adherents’ views on more practical matters of life. In essence, however, these two schools of thought share the same principle.22

  Xuē developed his point further by saying that Buddhism and Daoism provide more convincing arguments, as their expressions of original nature are closer to its real state. In other words, Buddhists and Daoists go to the root of “the internal learning of self-cultivation and the ultimate discourse on the original nature” in a way that “Confucians have never heard before”; Buddhism and Daoism discuss the universal principle and the original nature more explicitly than Confucianism.23 Xuē said that Confucian schools rarely talk about the original nature, and that the six Confucian Classics contained no satisfactory descriptions of these issues. He also said that “mundane affairs and human ethics” cannot fulfill the Way of Heaven or lead to man’s original nature.24 As a practical approach to one’s true nature, Xuē stresses the necessity of emphasizing quietude as a way of experiencing and affirming the true nature of one’s mind, a reality that transcends any linguistic framework and thus cannot be molded into any form.25

  Xuē’s claims devalued the Confucian Classics—the bedrock of Confucian orthodoxy—and the Confucian norms underlying the social order. His insistence that Buddhism and Daoism gave a more direct expression of man’s original nature as experienced through quiet sitting than the six Confucian classics explicitly degraded the theories and discussions of Confucian scholars. His claim that earthly affairs and human ethics cannot perfect one’s original nature challenged the absolute value attributed to the Confucian social norms, which were seen as a temporary form of the formless original nature. Needless to say, he was not in favor of turning one’s back on social activity by devoting oneself entirely to the world of absolute quietude, but rather looked upon daily practice of ethical values as essential manifestations of one’s nature.26 However, Xuē described man’s original nature as the source of individual ethical norms. The former could encompass the latter, but not vice versa, implying a devaluation of the absoluteness of the individual ethical norms. Thus, his theory clearly displays the devaluation of both Confucian classics and the practical norms of human ethics. Naturally, then, as Táng Shùnzhī predicted, this incurred criticism from other Confucian scholars. Regarding this, Xuē said, “My theories have been criticized as being totally absurd.”27

  Within the theoretical framework of “sagehood,” based on the theory that “Heaven is the universal principle, and original nature is also the universal principle” (tiān jí lǐ, xìng jí lǐ), no matter what form of enlightenment one may experience, it can easily lead to the syncretic theory of “the unity of the three teachings,” in the sense that both the universal principle and the original nature are experienced in one’s mind. In other words, all three teachings allow us to experience the true existence of our self, an existence that transcends all language and actions as we enter the realm of undifferentiated principle and nature. The linguistic discourse of the Confucian classics can capture only the “substance of mind” as it has been congealed in a specific rhetoric, so its linguistic expression is no
t absolute. In the state of the undifferentiated mind, the Confucian “principle” can be identified with the “principle” or the “way” of Buddhism or Daoism.28 But according to Xuē, Buddhism and Daoism discuss the undifferentiated “substance of mind” more explicitly than Confucian texts, because Confucian discourse involves only surface consciousness and daily matters.

  As mentioned above, many Confucian scholars had had the positive experience of quiet sitting being an effective and convenient method for attaining a direct experience of the universal principle and the original nature. Stories about the convenience of quiet sitting and its effects were widely circulated. However, quiet sitting was also practiced by Buddhists and Daoists, and Confucian scholars were highly aware of its origin in these two schools of thought. There was always a danger, therefore, that practitioners of quiet sitting would be drawn to Buddhism and Daoism,29 and that Confucian scholars would begin advocating the philosophy of “the unity of the three teachings,” or even put Buddhism and Daoism above Confucianism, as Xuē Huì did. All of this intensified the anxieties of Neo-Confucian scholars who were concerned about the dangers of excessive quiet sitting.