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DAVID CHAI
RETHINKING THE DAOIST CONCEPT
OF NATURE
Abstract
Recent years have seen an increased turning to the “wisdom of the
East” when addressing issues on the environment. The risk of
misappropriating its tenets in order to make them conform to the
Western system is extremely high however. This paper will lay bare
the early texts of Daoism so as to disprove claims that Nature is
mystical, antithetical to technology, and subservient to human
consciousness. It shall argue that Nature not only arises from a nonanthropocentric source in Dao but that this arising takes place
across three levels of reality: Dao’s mystery, the cosmogony of the
One-and-Many, and the fourfold comprised of Dao, Heaven, Earth,
and man. The result is a vision of Nature no longer bound to a
singular actuality but one whose presence is felt across an endless
range of possibilities as the substantive realization of Dao.
I. Introduction
It has become fashionable in recent years to turn to the “wisdom of
the East” when speaking of issues related to ecology and the environment. The danger with this approach, especially when it comes to
Daoism, is the risk of misconstruing or distorting its tenets.1 While
scholarly attention on the relationship between Daoism and ecology
has grown tremendously in the last decade,2 much of it has focused on
a small cluster of terms that attempt to explicate the concept of
Nature: naturalness (ziran 自然), non-action (wuwei 無爲), and
Heaven and Earth (tiandi 天地). These individual terms only cover
one side of Nature however. Thus scholars who formulate and tender
arguments on what Nature entails for Daoism do so by addressing its
ethical significance, its political merit using the language of natural
law, or paint it in aesthetic hues so as to reveal its supernatural beauty.
DAVID CHAI, Assistant Professor, Department of Philosophy, The Chinese
University of Hong Kong. Specialties: Chinese philosophy, phenomenology, comparative philosophy. E-mail: davidchai@cuhk.edu.hk
Journal of Chinese Philosophy 43:3–4 (September–December 2016) 259–274
C 2018 Journal of Chinese Philosophy
V
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If, however, we wish to probe the possibility of Nature having greater
profundity than what these terms can offer, we will require an altogether different approach, one wherein the onto-cosmological and
phenomenological import of Nature can shine forth.
While Laozi’s Daodejing was the first recognizably Daoist text to
ponder what Nature entailed, the Zhuangzi not only adopted its musings but also developed them into a complete philosophical enterprise.
Collectively then, Laozi and Zhuangzi can be read as debunking
claims that Nature is mystical, antithetical to technology, subservient
to human consciousness, or morally indifferent in the application of its
creative and destructive power. The reason we can attribute such
claims to them lies in the fact that they wanted to discredit the view
that Nature is delimitable by humans alone, that it is tied to our presence of being and nothing else. For Nature to be thought of in such a
manner is to engage in a perspectival projection from Earth to Heaven
or from Heaven to Earth, but not going beyond either. This paper will
hence argue that the Daoist concept of Nature is predicated on the
non-anthropocentric self-unfolding of Dao across three interwoven
levels of reality: its mysteriousness, as the One-and-Many, and as the
fourfold. What we will deduce from this is a vision of Nature no longer
tied to a single plane of actuality but one whose presence is felt across
an infinite number of planes as the substantive realization of Dao. It is
a rethinking of the ecology of time and space but one that is necessary
if we are to comprehend the word Nature in its entire multifarious
splendor.
II. Nature as an Extension of Dao’s Mystery
For the people of ancient China, the word Nature indubitably meant
more than planet Earth and its myriad ecosystems, it also included the
heavens as is evident in this excerpt from the Xici commentary to the
Book of Changes:
The Changes is a guide to Heaven and Earth, hence it can be used to
complete and stitch together the Dao of Heaven and Earth. Facing
upwards, one can use it to observe the patterns of Heaven; facing
downwards, one can use it to investigate the ordering of Earth. From
this one can know the causes lying behind what are dim and what are
bright.3
It would seem, then, that the source of Heaven’s dimness and Earth’s
brightness is an originally unknowable one and yet, the complementariness of Heaven and Earth, including its obscurity and luminosity,
arise simultaneously. This co-arising emerges from a source whose
RETHINKING THE DAOIST CONCEPT OF NATURE
261
rootedness is forever veiled to the probing minds of humankind.
Confronted with the unreachable loftiness of Heaven above and
the unfathomable depths of Earth below, the human subject is
reduced to an observer forced to fill in and thread together that which
the mind finds baffling. We thus cope with such perplexity by seeking
out the patterns (wen 文) and orderings (li 理) of the world in which
we stand.
Patterns and orderings may lead one astray however; we fall victim
to their beguiling nature and in doing so, take them to be complete in
their portrayal as such. Such self-deception was an issue both the
Daodejing and the Zhuangzi were very much aware of and they
repeatedly warned the reader to be on guard against it. Our body, in
its organic composition, is guided by countless unknowable determinations; what makes us think Heaven and Earth are any different?
Indeed, the bond between our corporeal and psycho-spiritual realities
can be said to mirror that of Heaven and Earth because what is
common to both is Dao. Without Heaven there will still be Earth but
without Dao, neither will come into being. It is, therefore, not a
question of which proceeds from which but rather, what steps must
humanity take to ensure their harmony remains in place. The
Daodejing provides us with a clue:
Thus it is that the Dao produces (all things), nourishes them, brings
them to their full growth, nurses them, completes them, matures
them, maintains them, and overspreads them. It produces them and
makes no claim to the possession of them; it carries them through
their processes and does not vaunt its ability in doing so; it brings
them to maturity and exercises no control over them; this is called its
mysterious virtue.4
A similar account can also be seen in the Zhuangzi:
Life has its sprouting, death has its return, beginning and end follow
one another in an unbroken cycle, and no one knows when they will
cease. If this is not the case, who else could the ancestor be!5
What we see in the above passages is a reverence for the unknown.
The mystery beclouding the root of the world’s cycles of transformation is not one to be rebuked or feared but accepted as a necessary
condition of said cycle’s self-unfolding. The sprout of life is an issuing
forth from a hidden root whose presence is unbeknownst yet without
which, the blossoming of said sprout would not be possible.
Conversely, death is a returning to whence life emerges and is thus
self-completion taken to its ultimate height, which explains why
Daoism treasures it. In other words, life and death are a metaphor for
the circularity of co-dependency between the internal and the external, the obscured and the exposed. Whether we take the confines of a
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circle’s circularity to be full or empty is beside the point because these
terms are meaningless in the face of the mystery of their unavoidable
incompleteness.
Dao is hence mysteriousness, the Zhuangzi says, in that it:
[Dao] cannot be heard; what is heard is not Dao. Dao cannot be seen;
what is seen is not Dao. Dao cannot be spoken of; what is spoken of is
not Dao. Who knows the formlessness that gives form to form? This
is why Dao bears no name.6
As Dao is not subject to any qualification other than its own spontaneity, the world of beings it makes possible engenders this ideal by harmonizing with each other to form an organic, holistic milieu. The
mystery of Dao thus involves the question of how the formless can pollinate itself into the myriad and how this nameless unknown can
inspire an endless stream of names. It is here that Nature enters the
picture. Whereas Dao is ostensibly immeasurable and unquantifiable,
characterized by both Laozi and Zhuangzi as a mystery, Nature is not.
Dao’s inner working is hence seen to be veiled in a shroud of mystery
but is this true of Nature? Should we romanticize Nature using the language of mysticism, its innate connection to Dao would be destroyed,
robbing it of what makes it so alluring. The mystery that Daoism
speaks of thus points to the symbiotic relationship threading together
Dao and Nature. As Dao is the root of life, Nature flourishes as its
limbs and branches; as Dao is darkly obscure, Nature is luminously
bright; as Dao takes shelter in nothingness (wu 無), the myriad things
find their abode in Nature; and, while Dao instills a sense of quietude
and stillness, Nature symbolizes the stirring of things into motion. In
other words, Nature directs our gaze towards the mystery of Dao.
Bearing the above in mind, we can rephrase the question of Nature
qua Dao’s mystery as one of veiled becoming versus mirrored return.
To elaborate, the mystery of which Daoism speaks is not describing
the unattainable loftiness of Dao but its inherent reflexivity for selfconcealment. As it spontaneously propagates, Dao maintains its
undifferentiated wholeness in the guise of the One. This is twofold
mystery. Nature, therefore, is a mirroring of second-order mystery,
that of the One, but it is also a mirroring of Dao in that Nature is
nested within the One which is in turn nested within Dao. Becoming
occurs in the One and finds completion in Nature before returning to
the One in a self-fulfilling cycle. Nature, said differently, acts as a
physical imprint of Dao’s creative power without reflectively doing so.
It is the yang 陽 to Dao’s yin 陰 and yet, it is also the yin to Dao’s yang.
This seemingly impenetrable paradox, however, is vital to preserving
the onto-cosmological attunement of nothingness and being and is
why, for example, the Zhuangzi claims:
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263
One cannot use life to give life to death, use death to give death to
life. Do death and life wait for each other? They are in fact one body.
Is that which precedes Heaven and Earth a thing? That which makes
things a thing is not itself a thing. The emergence of things cannot
occur before there were things, as if there were already things present, as if there were already things present before these too, without
end.7
Just as death brings life to death and life brings death to life, so too
is Nature limited in what it can transform. Since Nature cannot
employ itself to transform what lies within it, it must depend upon its
complementary opposite to do so; this binomial relationship excludes
the One however because the One is an elevated order of Nature.
Such being the case, it falls to Dao to act as a counter-balance to
Nature. In this way, the mystery of Nature conjoins with that of Dao
to form a world utterly natural and non-dependent, though not independent of humanity, and is why in many places throughout its text,
the Zhuangzi excoriates society for its blindness to ecological attunement. Indeed, if we read its words carefully we will discover that the
Zhuangzi’s criticism of Confucius and Mozi was as much directed to
their socio-ethical principles as to the fact that said theories unmask
Nature of its inherent mystery.
If we believe that Heaven and Earth symbolize the phenomenological face of Nature as opposed to Nature in its entirety, this would conform to the Zhuangzi’s statement that what makes a thing a thing is
not itself a thing. That which is no-thing brings things to completion,
as Laozi so succinctly illustrated in chapter 11 when he said the empty
space of a room gives it its use, not the four walls surrounding said
space. Taking Heaven and Earth as a thing thus eliminates Nature
from being thought of as such; what makes this logic sound is the inclusion of mystery. Nature qua mystery is hence a phenomenological
realm of existence whereby nonbeing gives birth to being and being
marks the veiling of nonbeing. This meontological fluidity is necessary
if Nature is to preserve its root in Dao yet avoid being torn asunder
from the One. Although the single body motif is used to describe both
the Thing and that which creates it, when it comes to Nature and the
One, the matter is not so simple. From the vantage point of humanity
they are as one body but from the viewpoint of Dao, they are like its
shadow and penumbra. Wherein mystery determines the coherency or
dissolution of unity depends on its source. Given that Nature’s source
is itself mysteriousness (i.e., Dao), it is not unreasonable to expect it
will possess this trait too. Indeed, it cannot be otherwise for if it were,
Daoism would have no grounds upon which to attack its opponents
and yet, its theory of Nature must also take into account the need to
shield Dao from misguided discoverability. Since relying on mystery
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alone would prove insufficient for the task, the Daodejing and
Zhuangzi needed to formulate a second line of argumentation, one
that would elaborate on Nature’s mystery by way of the cosmogonist
language of the One-and-Many.
III. Nature as Cosmogonic Flow
There is an interesting passage in the Ethics of Spinoza that reads:
I think I have shown quite clearly that from God’s supreme power or
infinite nature, an infinity of things in infinite ways—that is, everything—has necessarily flowed or is always following from that same
necessity. . .8
Although colored in religious hues, Spinoza’s account of the creative
flow of life as it transforms from a singular source into the myriad beings
populating the world is a medieval reading of the One-and-Many problem first put forward by Plato in his Parmenides. More recently, Henri
Bergson and his “vital impulse” (elan vital) has pushed the debate in an
altogether direction, that of ceaselessly self-dividing creativity.9 Daoism
was no stranger to the One-and-Many problem and seemed to offer its
own solution with the concept of qi 氣 (vital breath). Support for this
hypothesis, however, is based on Heshang Gong’s commentary to chapter 42 of the Daodejing, which reads thusly:
Dao gives birth to the One, the One gives birth to two, two gives birth
to three, and three gives birth to the myriad things. The myriad things
bear yin and embrace yang, blending their qi to achieve harmony.
Heshang Gong offers us the following commentary:
That which Dao gives birth to is the One. The One gives birth to yin
and yang. Yin and yang give birth to harmony, clarity, and turbidity,
and these three forms of qi were divided into Heaven, Earth, and
man. Heaven, Earth, and man together gave birth to the myriad
things, with Heaven bestowing, Earth transforming, and man rising
to maturity. The myriad things could not but bear yin and move
towards yang, revolving around this core, daily anew. The myriad
things at their core all possess primal qi which keeps them harmonious and supple. It is like the heart lying in one’s chest, marrow lying
within one’s bones, the empty spaces within grass and trees that allow
the wind to pass through. Thus by having it things will have a prolonged life.10
If, on the other hand, we look at the commentary of Wang Bi, the
picture is noticeably different:
The myriad things have their myriad forms, yet each reverts to oneness. How do they become one? They do so in nothingness. As
RETHINKING THE DAOIST CONCEPT OF NATURE
265
oneness occurs in nothingness, oneness can also be called nothingness. Since it is called oneness, how can one not speak of it? With
speech and the One, is this not two? Once there is one and two, three
is born as a consequence. From nothingness to being, numbers reach
their end here; what continues from this does not follow the flow of
Dao. Thus in knowing the creation of the myriad things, one also
knows their ruler. Although there are myriads of forms, their qi
blends into one.11
Wang Bi’s metaphysical language, in particular his doctrine of nothingness, marked an important advancement for Chinese philosophy.
Be that as it may, the point is that his portrayal of the One-and-Many
question seems more in line with the Zhuangzi than the Daodejing.
Their alignment is important in that it shows continuity of thought on
this issue while reinforcing the view that qi is not the dispersing agent
of the One but is what facilitates harmonization with it. In this way,
the Zhuangzi espouses a doctrine of multiplicity that differs from the
likes of Plato, Spinoza, and Bergson, in being a process that is wholly
internal. Although qi emanates from Dao and pervades the world as
its animating spirit, qi itself is unable to create things; that responsibility falls to the cosmogonist dyad of Dao and nothingness. Owing to
the mystery of Dao and that the One and Nature both fall under its
umbrella, the view that qi is the bifurcating life-flow of Dao becomes
questionable. The multiplicity of beings cannot return to a state of
unity via qi any more than qi is able to produce them. An example of
this qi-less activity is found in the Zhuangzi:
For all the myriad things, each one will return to its root, each one
returning to its root without knowing why. Muddled and confused, to
the end of their lives they will not leave it; trying to know it however
is to have already left it. Do not ask its name or try to glimpse its character, and things will hence give birth to themselves.12
What is noticeably absent here, yet is present in Western accounts,
is an indication that the path from One-to-Many is unidirectional; the
Many are summarily ejected from the oneness of their creator only to
be left to their own devices. The implication is that Nature suddenly
finds itself being lorded over by humanity, for it is we who claim to
have exclusive knowledge of the One, not Nature. Daoism, in contrast,
believes the situation to be otherwise. Nature is but an extension of
the One, and since the myriad things take Nature as their place of
abode, their multitudes are no different from the undifferentiated
wholeness of the One. This leads to a potential objection: if the Many
is embodied by Nature, and Nature is on par with the One, then the
Many qua Nature qua the One are one and the same. Is this not the
solution philosophers have been seeking for two and a half millennia?
The answer is no. Previously we mentioned that Nature is nested
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within the One, and the One is nested within the mystery of Dao. One
should not, however, think of these three as belonging to a horizontalvertical hierarchy but comprising an intermingling nebula. Wherein
each differs is not in its distance or proximity to Dao; rather, it is the
degree to which Dao’s creative potential has been actualized that
determines this.
To elaborate, the universe at its inception was still, empty, and
silent. Therein resided Dao, unperturbed and solitary. Spontaneously
gathering itself and drawing upon the nothingness in which it found
itself, Dao began molding the ontological constitution of various
branches of being. Each ancestral form of being lacked name or attribute, subsisting in indistinguishable unity otherwise known as the
One. With each ontological ancestor unable to depart from the One,
they unfurled themselves via self-transfiguration becoming the ontic
beings of the world. It is these beings that, taken collectively, comprise
Nature. Only after humanity subsequently assigns them names and
attributes do the myriad things leave the nourishing shelter of Dao’s
mystery, placing their inborn nature in great peril in the process. This
is why Wang Bi said numbers stop at three and the Zhuangzi pleaded
for us to namelessly revert to a state of primal cohesiveness.
In contrast to the Zhuangzi’s cosmogony, other Daoist texts such as
the Liezi maintain the role of qi in the One-Many equation:
The sages of old took yin and yang as regulating Heaven and Earth.
If that which has form is born of the formless, whence do Heaven and
Earth come? Thus it is said: There is the great one, great beginning,
great foundation, and great simplicity. The time of the great one was
when qi had yet to be encountered; the time of the great beginning
saw the emergence of qi; the time of great foundation was when
forms took shape; and the time of great simplicity marked the start of
substance. Qi, form, and substance were complete but not yet separated, thus they were called undifferentiated wholeness. Undifferentiated wholeness describes the undifferentiated wholeness and
inseparability of the myriad things.13
But let us return to Nature, to the things themselves. The truth of
Nature, as both an abstract concept and as the objective material
of Heaven and Earth, is that it is so much more than a descriptive state
of reality: it is an emotionally aesthetic plenum in which the great
variety of life buzzes and whizzes past in a never-ending stream of
vitality, struggle, and decline. Nature is the anthropocentric materialization of Dao’s non-anthropocentric potentiality, a totality that is in
constant flux and yet, it never loses its balance or harmony. The truth
of Nature is that it does not need the likes of humanity to persist and
indeed, it has become ever more distant from Dao because of us, but
this does not mean that Nature is sick and in need of curing. It is wrong
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267
for us, as one of the beings comprising the Many, to attempt such
ends. That which has the means to determine Nature’s fate is Dao
alone but Dao does not deliberately interfere (youwei 有為) with
things, preferring instead to let them be (wuwei 無為).
In letting be, Dao relinquishes the right to claim an essence of its
own which explains why it is at once both one and many. Nature is the
realization of “walking two paths,” to quote Zhuangzi; we stand
before it as a single being yet we are never alone in said standing. This
is the problem of the One-and-Many Daoism wishes us to contemplate. Humanity takes Nature for granted, not in terms of its utility,
but its inescapable oneness. What is more, the principle of One-andMany even extends to our individual bodies, as the Zhuangzi notes
when discussing the sage Wang Tai:
He doesn’t know when it is appropriate to use his ears and when his
eyes, his mind wandering in the harmony of virtue; he regards the
likeness of things but not their differences, seeing the loss of his foot
as if he had only lost so much soil.14
Wang can be a model for the world precisely because of his ability to
look beyond the traits that distinguish one thing from another. His
virtue is complete insofar as it comes from Heaven and Heaven’s
perfection comes from modeling itself after Dao.15 Dao, however, has
nothing after which it can be modeled and so it uses itself as the standard of measurement. For Laozi, the innate ability of Dao to serve as
the model after which all other things are based is due to its supreme
naturalness. Although the Chinese word ziran can also be translated
as Nature, it is better served by naturalness than Nature. Why? It is so
because when Daoism speaks of the “truth” (zhen 真) of things—its
genuineness or authenticity—the root of said truth lies not in Nature
but Dao. This is why Nature represents the permeation of Dao in
Heaven and Earth, as the Zhuangzi so poignantly demonstrates:
The genuine is received from Heaven, being natural and unchanging.
Thus the sage models himself after Heaven and treasures the genuine
and is not restrained by vulgarity. The foolish do the opposite and so
cannot model themselves after Heaven and are pitied by others. Not
knowing how to treasure the genuine, they live amidst the commonplace and accept the changes of vulgarity. This is why they are
insufficient.16
The Zhuangzi has Wang Tai focus on the Heavenly instead of what
belongs to man in that doing so equips him with the means by which to
see things in their unity rather than their separation. For Wang Tai to
cultivate himself so as to embody the virtue of Dao, he cannot look
downwards on the ladder of self-modeling to humanity but must strain
upwards to observe Heaven. The same holds true for Nature; as it
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already contains Heaven and Earth in its capacity as the Many, the
only place to which it can turn that surpasses it is the One. Wang Tai
thus employs Heaven as his guide, attaining oneness with the myriad
things as a result. Similarly, Nature follows the traceless steps of Dao
and so is able to harmonize the Many through the One. From this it
becomes clear how the mystery of Dao is transmitted from the One to
the Many without interruption.
What remains to be explained, however, is how humanity can establish a meaningful relationship with Nature given its cosmological ties
to Dao, the One, and the Many. The difficulty of creating such a rapport is especially notable in light of the following statement:
In assigning numbers to things, we say there are myriads and yet, man
only counts as one. The people can be found in all nine territories but
for those who live off of grain for food, wherever a boat and carriage
can go, such people only count as one. Comparing them to the myriad
things, how are they different from the fine hair on a horse’s body?17
It appears we need to rethink the gravity of our position as outlined by
the Zhuangzi and seek a remedy that is not discordant with Nature.
The solution, it will be argued, requires us to further develop our cosmological understanding of Dao, mystery, and the One, by inserting
the human element into the equation. What is meant by the human
element is not the common person but one whose mind has sufficient
clarity to mirror Dao. Such a paradigmatic individual is the sage.
It hence falls upon the sage to serve as the model of exemplariness for
the rest of us insofar as he is the only one capable of embracing the
oneness of Nature while guarding Dao’s mystery. Doing so elevates
the sage to a level of greatness that is on par with that of Dao, Heaven,
and Earth and together they are known as the four greats. In other
words, the Four allow Nature to be accessed from multiple experiential
realms concurrently—the meontological, cosmological, ontological,
and phenomenological. Explaining how this is possible is our next task.
IV. Nature as the Fourfold
Having examined Nature from the perspectives of Dao’s mystery and
the One-and-Many, we can now proceed to the third standpoint that
adds the role of man to the mix. This is where we come across the
notion of the fourfold, a term famously used by Martin Heidegger in
his 1954 essay “Building Dwelling Thinking.”18 Although Heidegger’s
use of the term was very much indebted to Meister Eckhart, he would
have nevertheless encountered this theme when reading the twentyfifth chapter of the Daodejing:
RETHINKING THE DAOIST CONCEPT OF NATURE
269
Therefore Dao is great, Heaven is great, Earth is great, and the king
is great. These are the four greats of the universe and the king is one
of them. Man models himself after Earth, Earth models itself after
Heaven, Heaven models itself after Dao, and Dao models itself after
naturalness.
Laozi’s text is revealing in spite of its simplicity. The four greats are
not literally so but should be taken as such in name only; the first three
give an account of Nature while the fourth, the king, speaks to man.
What is missing from Laozi’s portrayal, however, is the bridge
between man, the least significant great, and Dao, the progenitor of
the other three. One might argue that such a bridge is none other than
Nature but a stronger case can be found in the role of nothingness.
Nothingness undergirds and facilitates Dao while Dao imbues all that
it creates with said nothingness. Moreover, nothingness is the veiling
cloak of mystery that accompanies Dao wherever it gathers,19 forming
a complimentary pair with being and perhaps most relevant to us,
serves as our transitional stage of presence as we traverse the transformation from life to death. Nothingness, we can say, is the bridge joining the worldly being of man to the non-groundedness of Dao.
For the sage, being recognized as one of the Four does not signify
his autonomy from the other three; on the contrary, he must live in
conjunction with them in order to make his heart-mind (xin 心) their
place of abode. This is why the Zhuangzi writes:
The sage’s movement is that of Heaven, his stillness is that of Earth,
his entire heart-mind is set on this and so he rules the world. His
ghosts do not spook him and his soul is not exhausted; with his entire
heart-mind set, he serves the myriad things. From empty stillness his
words extend to Heaven and Earth, through to the myriad things, and
this is what we call the joy of Heaven. The joy of Heaven is the heartmind of the sage and he uses it to preserve the world therein.20
There are three things we can say about this. First, Heaven’s circularity
symbolizes motion while Earth’s squareness speaks to its stillness.
Although the theme of round Heaven and square Earth became an
important feature of Huang-Lao cosmology, particularly the Zhoubi
Suanjing《周髀算經》and Huainanzi《淮南子》, evidence of such
visualizing is also found in pre-Qin texts, including the Zhuangzi.21 The
activity of Heaven and Earth—the latter’s stillness qualifies as an activity of rest—as the second and third Great, come together in the fourth
Great, the sage. What we have, then, is the comingling of six distinct
celestial manifestations (Heaven, circularity, motion; Earth, squareness,
rest) within the corporeality of the sage. Given this, is it no wonder that
the sage is regarded with such vaulted esteem?
Our second point pertains to the issuance of things, in this case language, from the nothingness that is Dao’s perpetual home. How things
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are born from nothingness without any connotation of creatio ex
nihilio is beyond the scope of this paper,22 however, the following
depiction should suffice:
In the great beginning there was nothingness, nonbeing, and namelessness. From it arose the One, an oneness that was without form.
When things obtained it they were thus born and this was called virtue. Before there were forms and divisions, they were innumerable
though without separation, and this was called the order of things.
From this flowing and moving things were born and once they
became complete they gave birth to principles that were called forms.
These forms and their bodies contained spirits, each having its own
qualities and regulations and this was called the inborn nature. When
the inborn nature is cultivated one will return to virtue, and virtue at
its ultimate is identical to the beginning. Being identical it is empty,
and being empty it is great.23
No matter if we are engaging the cosmogony of the above-cited passage or the metaphysics of the one preceding it, the fourfold act in concert to sustain the flourishing of Nature. Given Dao threads itself
(tong 通) through every thing and not-thing alike, nothingness serves
as the meontological fabric through which said threading occurs. In
this way, the fourfold is both four and non-four, the “non” being a necessary counter to the “is-ness” of the four. Humanity is hence tasked
with expanding our knowledge of Nature by darkening our subjectivity (i.e., sitting in forgetfulness, zuowang 坐忘) via fasting of the mind
(xinzhai 心齋). To behold such behavior as engaging in spiritual meditation, as many are wont to do, is to misread Daoism’s praxis of life
nourishment. The objective of such forgetting and fasting is a mindset
that will prepare us for a wholly new phenomenological engagement
with Nature as the One-and-Many. What is more, only after one sees
the braided thread of nothingness and Dao in each of the experiential
realms associated with the Four can we begin to comprehend the true
extent of its affective power on what it means to be one with Nature.
The third observation we can make stems from the Zhuangzi’s
claim that with heavenly joy (tianle 天樂) the world gathers within the
heart-mind of the sage. A search of pre-Qin texts reveals that the term
tianle is unique to the Heavenly Dao chapter (tiandao 天道) of the
Zhuangzi. Like the terms zuowang and xinzhai, which are also lexical
creations of Zhuangzi, tianle requires careful explication. With his
heart-mind set on Dao, the sage experiences its empty stillness and
applies it to the world at large. As he can extend to others what lies
within himself, the sage transmits the thread of Dao to the myriad
things and so is fit to govern them. If he sets himself on Dao yet makes
no attempt to transmit it externally, he is said to have acquired knowledge of emptiness; if he quiets his mind yet does not employ it to act in
RETHINKING THE DAOIST CONCEPT OF NATURE
271
the world, he is said to have reverted to the root of Dao (i.e., nothingness). In both cases, the sage exhibits kingliness and is thus seen as one
who has penetrated the ultimate ordering of things. There is nowhere
he goes that will disrupt his harmony with Dao, nowhere he cannot go
that will agitate his oneness with Nature. He neither imposes his will
on things nor attempts to alter their inborn nature but simply lets the
beings of the world follow their Dao-given inclinations. Joyfully, he
shares the Heavenly above with the Earthly below, all the while wandering between them without leaving so much as a trace (wuji 無跡).
To quote the Zhuangzi one final time:
Although Heaven and Earth are great, their transformations are
equal; although the myriad things are many, their ruler is but one;
although the people are many, they are all subjects of the ruler. The
ruler takes virtue as his origin and Heaven as his completion, thus it is
said: The ruler of the world in high antiquity ruled through nonaction and Heavenly virtue, and that is all.24
Man dwells in Nature but depends on the Earth for sustenance,
while Heaven nourishes the Earth and together, they are borne of
Dao. This is the fourfold; a mystery of conjoining, becoming, and
flourishing whose propensity for quiescent tranquility guarantees that
one element will never usurp the others. Unlike Heidegger, for whom
the fourfold points to the dwelling of being in the world, Daoism uses
the idea to warn us against overtly exerting our existence; indeed, to
follow the example of the sage requires that we do precisely the opposite. Conjoining with the myriad things such that Heaven and Earth
becomes his companion, the sage differs from common kings in that
his inner sagacity regulates his external kingliness. To deviate from
this path is to abandon the virtue of Dao, to ignore the signposts that
are only visible once we have quieted our mind of all that would undo
our shared oneness with things.
And so, the fourfold is an oneness whose collectivity is neither
monistic nor nihilistic but carries the recognition that nothingness,
Dao, and its subtle breath (jingqi 精氣) give rise to endlessly spontaneous creation, transformation, and revitalization. To be enfolded into
the Four is thus to view Nature as the playground of Dao’s marvelous
possibilities, to grasp its profundity in a temporal sense without
decloaking its mystery.25 Having grasped the meaning of the fourfold,
we can promptly cease thinking of the Four as such and behold Dao’s
embeddedness in Heaven, Earth, and humanity as being part of its
own naturalness. Nothing is more natural than Dao but in order to
make said naturalness accessible to humanity, it must do so through
Nature. In this way, Nature is beyond terms such as immanent, transcendent, spiritual, mystical, and so forth, since these are the tools of
272
DAVID CHAI
humanity to carve up what is inherently uncarvable. This is the genius
of Daoism’s insight into Nature—we are one of four not one plus
three. To stand outside Nature, as one to be added to three, is to think
of Nature qua the Three as external and inferior when in fact there has
never been a time when Dao qua Nature has abandoned us.
V. Conclusion
This paper has argued that a characterization of Nature that is independent of ethical relations, socio-political hierarchy, moral rectification, and ritualistic behavior, is not only feasible, it is urgently needed
to deter uninformed appropriations of Daoism’s theoretical apparatus. Focusing on the Daodejing and the Zhuangzi, we have seen how
the role played by man in delimiting said definition is reduced to its
bare minimum thereby allowing Nature to fulfill its station as the catalyst for the interweaving of Dao and the One-and-Many.26 Owing to
their entwinement, the extent to which these three can be truly comprehended by the fourth (i.e., humanity) is a point of perpetual mystery. Nature’s mystery must remain so and to claim otherwise is to
discuss what is other than Nature qua the One-Many qua Dao. For
Daoism, Nature carries with it recognition of the world being more
than a mere place of dwelling; it facilitates a form of knowledge that
grapples with the realization that Nature cannot reveal the meaning of
being human but instead plays upon its incommensurability so as to
push us towards a life praxis that is communally transformational. If
we wish to return to and embrace Nature in all its majestic fury and
haunting sublimeness, we must accept the fact that the nature of
Nature is to elude discovery; with Dao as it head and the One as its
tail, how could it be otherwise?
THE CHINESE UNIVERSITY OF HONG KONG
Hong Kong, SAR, China
Endnotes
Acknowledgment of Copyrights and Credentials:
1. Robert Corrington is one such example when he says: “For the philosophical Daoist
the entire universe is pervaded with qi and is thus an organic whole. It is no wonder
that process theologians have been friendly to this aspect of Daoism as it reinforces
their commitment to the idea that each item of the universe (actual occasions) is connected with each other (past) occasion. From the perspective of my ecstatic naturalism I have to confess that I find this idea to be an idealistic delusion, propped up by
bad science and bad metaphysics.” Robert Corrington, “Daoism and Ecstatic Naturalism,” CKTS Newsletter 5, no. 2 (1997): 1.
RETHINKING THE DAOIST CONCEPT OF NATURE
273
2. Studies of which include Graham Parkes, “Lao-Zhuang and Heidegger on Nature and
Technology,” Journal of Chinese Philosophy 39, Supplement (2012): 112–33; Eric
Nelson, “Responding with Dao: Early Daoist Ethics and the Environment,” Philosophy East and West 59, no. 3 (2009): 294–316; Lauren F. Pfister, “Environmental Ethics
and Some Probing Questions for Traditional Chinese Philosophy,” Journal of Chinese
Philosophy 34, Supplement (2007): 101–23; Sandra Wawrytko, “The Viability and
Virtuosity of Daoist Ecology: Reversion as Renewal,” Journal of Chinese Philosophy
32, no, 1 (2005): 89–103; Alan Fox, “Process Ecology and the ‘Ideal’ Dao,” Journal of
Chinese Philosophy 32, no. 1 (2005): 47–57; Eric Nelson, “Responding to Heaven and
Earth: Daoism, Heidegger and Ecology,” Environmental Philosophy 1, no. 2 (2004):
65–74; Norman Girardot et al., eds., Daoism and Ecology: Ways within a Cosmic
Landscape (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2001). It was because of the pioneering work of Roger Ames and Chung-Ying Cheng in the 1980s that academia
began linking Daoism with environmental philosophy. See Roger Ames, “Daoism
and the Nature of Nature,” Environmental Ethics 8, no. 4 (1986): 317–50; Chung-Ying
Cheng, “On the Environmental Ethics of the Dao and the Qi,” Environmental Ethics
8, no. 4 (1986): 351–70.
3. Zhouyi《周易》(Book of Changes) (Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju, 2006). All translations
of Chinese texts in this paper are my own unless stated otherwise.
4. Laozi 老子, ch. 51. Daodejing《道德經》(Classic of Dao and De) in Daozang
《道藏》(Daoist Canon), 36 volumes (Shanghai: Shanghai Shudian Chuban She, 1988).
5. Zhuangzi 莊子, ch. 21. Nanhua Zhenjing《南華真經》(True Classic of Zhuangzi) in
Daozang《道藏》(Daoist Canon), 36 volumes. (Shanghai: Shanghai Shudian Chuban
She, 1988).
6. Zhuangzi 莊子, ch. 22.
7. Ibid.
8. Spinoza: Complete Works, trans. Samuel Shirley (Indianapolis: Hackett, 2002), 228.
9. See Henri Bergson, Creative Evolution, trans. Arthur Mitchell (New York: Random
House, 1944).
10. Heshang Gong 河上公, ch. 42. Daode Zhenjing Zhu《道德真經注》(Commentary on
the True Classic of Dao and De) in Daozang《道藏》(Daoist Canon), 36 volumes
(Shanghai: Shanghai Shudian Chuban She, 1988).
11. Wang Bi 王弼, ch. 42. Daode Zhenjing Zhu《道德真經注》(Commentary on the True
Classic of Dao and De) in Daozang《道藏》(Daoist Canon), 36 volumes (Shanghai:
Shanghai Shudian Chuban She, 1988).
12. Zhuangzi 莊子, ch. 11.
13. Liezi 列子, ch. 1. Chongxuzhide Zhenjing《冲虛至德真經》(The True Classic of
Liezi) in Daozang《道藏》(Daoist Canon), 36 volumes. (Shanghai: Shanghai Shudian Chuban She, 1988).
14. Zhuangzi 莊子, ch. 5.
15. This pattern of modeling appears in chapter 25 of the Daodejing: “Man models himself after Earth, Earth models itself after Heaven, Heaven models itself after Dao,
and Dao models itself after naturalness.”
16. Zhuangzi 莊子, ch. 31.
17. Ibid., ch. 17.
18. Heidegger says: “Recall that human being consists in dwelling and, indeed, dwelling
in the sense of the stay of mortals on the earth. But ‘on the earth’ already means
‘under the sky.’ Both of these also mean ‘remaining before the divinities’ and include
a ‘belonging to men’s being with one another.’ By a primal oneness the four—earth
and sky, divinities and mortals—belong together in one. . . . This simple oneness of the
four we call the fourfold.” Martin Heidegger, Poetry, Language, Thought, trans. A.
Hofstadter (New York: Harper & Row, 2001), 147–48.
19. Heidegger phrases it thusly: “All revealing belongs within a harboring and a concealing. But that which frees [entities for intelligibility]—the mystery—is concealed and
always concealing itself. . . . Freedom [sense-making, the revealing of beings] is that
which conceals in a way that opens to light, in whose clearing shimmers the veil that
hides the essential occurrence of all truth and lets the veil appear as what veils.”
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20.
21.
22.
23.
24.
25.
26.
DAVID CHAI
Martin Heidegger, The Question Concerning Technology and Other Essays, trans.
William Lovitt (New York: Garland, 1977), 330. For more on Heidegger’s theory of
the clearing in relation to Daoism, see David Chai, “Nothingness and the Clearing:
Heidegger, Daoism and the Quest for Primal Clarity,” Review of Metaphysics 67, no.
3 (2014): 583–601.
Zhuangzi 莊子, ch. 13.
“The Ru wear round caps on their heads to show that they know the cycles of Heaven;
they walk in square shoes to show that they know the form of Earth.” Zhuangzi 莊子,
ch. 21.
For more, see David Chai, “Meontological Generativity: A Daoist Reading of the
Thing,” Philosophy East and West, 64, no. 2 (2014): 303–18.
Zhuangzi 莊子, ch. 12.
Ibid.
For more on the Daoist notion of time, see David Chai “Zhuangzi’s Meontological
Temporality,” Dao: A Journal of Comparative Philosophy 13, no. 3 (2014): 361–77.
This is where the present paper differs from other studies, such as that by James
Miller, who says: “There can be no ‘Dao and Nature’ as though these were two
discrete categories of being (cf. Creator and the created in Christian thought) that
must be brought by some means or other into relation (cf. an absolute and singular act
of creation ex nihilo). Dao is no more–and no less–than the flourishing of nature
itself.” James Miller, “Daoism and Nature,” in Nature across Cultures: Views of
Nature and the Environment in Non-Western Cultures, ed. Helaine Selin (Dordrecht:
Springer Science1Business Media, 2003), 393.