On Daoist Calligraphy and the Art of Nourishing Life: Pure and Centered Brush Strokes Cultivate a Pure and Peaceful Heart

By Abbot Yang Xu Yuntai Guan Monastery, Sichuan, China Translated by Heiner Fruehauf National University of Natural Medicine, College of Classical Chinese Medicine Pure and centered brush strokes cultivate a pure and peaceful heart In the context of Chinese culture, we see mention of the art of nourishing life (yangsheng) first in the “Inner Chapters” of the Zhuangzi. The term yang literally means to nourish by way of conserving, regulating, and tonifying. Sheng means life force, existence, development. When we put these two ancient words together, we see that they form an entity that denotes the effort to live as long as possible, and to obtain as high a quality of life as possible. If it is said that the art of nourishing life is the specialty of Chinese medicine, and cultivation of the heart is at the core of this medicine’s art of nourishing life, then we should make the additional point that regulation of the qi is at the innermost core of this endeavor. And this “qi” is perhaps the best term to express the essence of Chinese medicine. Calligraphy is an artistic discipline. At the same time, it is one of the many paths of nourishing life. Calligraphy can nourish the spirit, a process that in turn can refine the workings of the mind and thereby diminish the influence of negative mental-emotional impulses on the functioning of the physical body. The practice of calligraphy nourishes both body and spirit, by causing the calligraphers physical form and spirit to become one. After all, it is the process of uniting one’s body with one’s heart that brings true health and longevity. Calligraphy represents a perfect manifestation of the unity of body and spirit. The body has always been called “the abode of the spirit.” Nourishment of the physical body is achieved by movement, movement is what benefits physical form. The Qing dynasty yangsheng expert Cao Tingdong (1700-1785) once said: “The cultivation of a quiet internal state is the primary task of supporting the life force.” Stillness is the prerequisite for nourishing the spirit, and once spirit is nourished physical form can be preserved. During the correct practice of calligraphy all of one’s senses and mental faculties are drawn together into one single strand of presence, thoughts become pure, tranquil, and simple. Nothing else is needed at this moment, and the heart and spirit are not distracted by the external stimuli of the world. Surrounded by the rush of the world, the striving for fame and gain, the holder of the brush delights in a state of clarity and absence of material concerns, cocooned in solitude, thus balancing the internal interplay of yin and yang. In this way, the integrity of the body’s processes can achieve a highly stable state, in which the speed of cellular division is slowed down, potentially extending one’s life span. During brush writing, the heart is quiet and the hand moves. Body and spirit are one, the mind is not rushing toward the outside, and one’s focus is completely present and intense. In this state, outside and inside are locked in harmonious interplay, causing all blood vessels and channel pathways become unblocked, resulting in the elimination of fatigue and the restoration of “flow.” If we wish to live long, a healthy body is required. All healthy bodies have their root in the cultivation and positive outlook of the heart. To achieve this, our heart must be able to exhibit the qualities of concentration (yongxin), perseverance (hengxin), patience (naixin), trust (xinxin), and single-minded focus (zhuanxin). The simultaneous cultivation of our physical body and our inherent spiritual nature is therefore the central aspect of all processes that lead to health and longevity. There is an old saying that states: “Those who master the art of nourishing life cultivate the heart, while those who are amateurs in the art of nourishing life train their physical bodies.” True masters, in other words, focus on internal cultivation. Everyone else focuses on the outside. The Buddhist Master Hongyi (1880-1942) once said to a friend in the context of a conversation about calligraphy: “All I am trying to express with my calligraphy is simplicity, emptiness, and transcendence”—a succinct statement describing the internal state of a calligrapher in action. This kind of state is directly connected to the calligrapher’s cultivation of her heart and original nature, as well as her inherent qualities of simplicity, peace, and emptiness. Beyond doubt, these qualities express a certain type of beauty—a beauty of the internal realm of the heart and soul. The process of studying calligraphy, therefore, has to include an awakening to the physical experience of “quietude” and a gradually developing ability to re-center one’s internal restlessness. Only if we are able to cultivate an internal state of beauty will we be able to create true beauty in our calligraphy, spawned by a harmonious interplay between heart and hand. The Taoist patriarch Wang Chongyang (1113-1170), in the educational primer Chongyang Zhenren shou Danyang ershisi jue (24 Teachings from Master Wang Chongyang to Ma Danyang), is quoted as saying: “Internal quietude represents a state in which no random thoughts bubble up from the heart; external quietude refers to a state when no dirt can contaminate you.” In addition to absorbing the gems of traditional culture, calligraphy training requires a very particular skill, namely the regulation of one’s breath, a key part of the ancient practice of “cultivating your body in order to nourish your original nature” (xiushen yangxing). As Zhou Xinglian wrote in Linchi guanjian (Humble Musings About Calligraphy) in the year 1868: “When you sit down to meditate and write characters with a brush, you will feel that all restlessness leaves the body; whether you write in cursive style, or grass style or flow of consciousness free-style, when you reach that point of complete ecstasy and unlimited creativity your spirit will glow in your heart.” The energy that Master Zhou evokes in this passage is very clearly a type of spiritual energy, an intuitive immersion in the state of primordial unity (lingqi). At its very root, the concept of “qi” contains both the ephemeral spirit and the denser matter aspects of reality, and thus qi, which includes the breath, has the power to regulate the physiological functions of all bodily systems. The harmony of hand and wrist and arm and torso thus results in a balancing effect on the breath, the blood circulation and the nerves. The entire process of calligraphic movement, therefore, can be characterized as a harmonious interplay between body, mind and spirit. When we commonly use the term “qi” in words like qi flow, qi and blood, qi breathing, or jing-qi-shen, we are in one way or another always identifying the breath (qi) as the pivotal element of our life force’s inherent ability to perpetuate itself. Regulation of the breath to a most refined and magnificent state is therefore crucial. The Ming dynasty Confucian scholar Chen Baisha (1428-1500) once exclaimed in one of his poems: “Always regulate the flow of mind (xin) and breath (qi), so that the work of mind and breath can be united. Never talk about cultivating the mind without the breath, when mind and breath should harmonize as one.” This poem is not only emphasizing the importance of the interplay between our mind and breath, but also the fact that this harmony can only evolve from the balanced state of our heart-mind, which in turn should become our most important task in the study of calligraphy. Every aspect of calligraphy radiates the principle of unity within transformation expressed by yin and yang turning into each other, gain and loss following each other, and the qualities of centeredness and opposition being present at the same time: the subtle movements of the brush in every stroke, the very nature of every stroke itself, the completion of each character, the set-up of the paraphernalia, etc.; within this process, the emphasis on fast or slow movements, the rising and descending of the brush, the releasing and the reigning in of the calligrapher’s energy, her emotional high and low points, the comparative strength or weakness behind the stroke, the contrast of hard and soft, the slowing and the rushing, the breaking off and the continuing running of the ink stream, the emotional tension and relaxation, the complexity or simplicity of the overall design, densely gathered strokes versus simple and open ones—looseness and tightness, congealing and dispersing forces, call and response, deep and shallow waters, motions of separation and coming together, the principle of yin and yang in action. In this way, calligraphy is one with the cosmic source processes of all creation; one with the path of the Yijing (Classic of Changes); one with the great thinkers of Daoism and Confucianism. Hidden within the practice of calligraphy, therefore, are the secret workings of the ancestral mind. Statistical research in the fields of medicine and psychology has shown that calligraphy leads a field of 20 other professions in terms of engendering longevity. Already during the era of the Tang, when the great poet Du Fu (712-770) lamented that “from ancient times onward it has been hard to reach the age of 70,” famous calligraphers of the time lived many years beyond that limit: Ouyang Xun 83 years, Yu Shinan 81 years, Liu Songquan 88 years, even Yan Zhenqing was 77 years at the time of his violent death, and Zhi Yong is said to have “lived to 100 years.” If we conduct a statistical survey of the 162 eminent calligraphers who lived in Chinese history from the distant Qin dynasty to the recent times of the Qing, we find 133 people whose birth and death dates are reliably established. The oldest one among them lived to the age of 93, the youngest one to the age of 36. Twenty-four reached an advanced age of more than 80. Thirty-five reached a medium age between 70-79. Fifty-four reached the comparatively low age of 60-69. Sixteen died before they reached 50, and four were killed. The average life span of these 133 calligraphers turns out to be 65.7 years. If we compare this number to the average life expectancy of ancient times, we find a significant difference: historical records show us that the average life span during the early times of the Western Zhou, Qin and Han dynasties was 20; that of the Tang dynasty was 27; during the Song dynasty it was 30; during the Qing dynasty it was 33; and during the Republican period it was 35. If we take 65 years to be the landmark for the historic label of longevity, we find that 79 of 133 Chinese master calligraphers made it beyond this mark, which amounts to 57.2%. Considering the economical and medical limitations of their environment we must conclude that this is quite an achievement. These numbers may serve as evidence that the practice of calligraphy and the phenomenon of longevity are directly related. The ancients have said a long time ago: “Calligraphy (shu 書) means to draw out (shu 抒), to dissipate; to draw out qi from the chest, and to dissipate stagnation in the heart. Calligraphers thus don’t suffer from disease and live long.” The Qing dynasty calligrapher Zhou Xinlian once made the following remark: “The practice of calligraphy can nourish deficient qi as well as remove stagnating qi.” Similarly, the traditional doctor Huang Kuang stated: “The practice of calligraphy can be used to nourish the heart and thereby dissipate disease—a true joy for every cultivated person.” The great scholar Ouyang Xiu (1007-1072), moreover, announced in a very personal way in his Shibi (Brush Experiments): “When I was young I liked a great variety of activities. Getting older, I have gradually ceased engaging in most of them, either because I lost my enthusiasm for them and thus failed to reach a level of sufficiency, or because I simply grew tired of what I initially loved, or because I had to stop them because my energy invested in them was not matched by my skill. However, one activity has drawn me deeper and deeper over time, without a hint of this sensation of growing tired, and that is calligraphy… The poet Su Zimei (1008-1048) reportedly said often: Bright windows and clear tables; brush, ink slab, paper, and ink--all of them symbols for excellence and catalysts for human happiness. Few are those, however, who are destined to achieve such happiness’ … I have come to know this pleasure somewhat late in life, but regret that my characters miss diligence and can’t reach the perfection of the brush strokes of the ancient masters. I may be ecstatic when writing, but this is really an inappropriate state considering the quality of my brush strokes.” The great poetry master Lu You (1125-1210), moreover, made the following remark after appreciating the calligraphic art of Lin Bu (967-1028): “When I gaze at his brush strokes, I find them so outstanding that they have a most wondrous effect on me—they heal me like medicine, and they fill me like food.” During the practice of calligraphy the brain and the body are simultaneously engaged; movement and quiet states alternate; the breath is regular, nourishing vital energy; the emotions are balanced, transforming what is in our hearts into positive thoughts—in this way, both body and mind experience a sense of happiness, and we feel a sense of inner peace. We are having fun while doing something that is good for us, namely yangsheng: nourishing our life force. The sage Zhuangzi taught us to seek and experience the internal state of emptiness in nature—a natural state of the human soul, not the external form of nature in our environment. The Daoist masters told us that we can, through the experience of the “fasting of the heart” and the process of “loosing ourselves in meditation,” by “reaching a state of complete emptiness and purity without interfering desires” and by “being one with the universe,” break free from the “slavery of the material realm” and find true freedom of the soul. We can use this natural state of the soul to discover the natural state of the universe outside the self, and reach an elated state that is characterized by the “unity between nature and ourselves.” The art of calligraphy can indeed serve as a catalyst in achieving this free and enlightened state of the soul. The Tang dynasty poet Yu Shinan (568-638) said it well: “When preparing to write with the brush, it is important to turn both our sight and our hearing inward, cease all thoughts and focus the spirit, center our hearts and harmonize our breath, then the result will be marvelous… While characters have substance, the flow of their lines is rooted in the immaterial (wuwei), their primordial source is in the ebb and flow of yin and yang; while they embody the form of all things in the world, they primarily reflect the dynamic nature and essence of every being, and therefore there is no fixed state for them. If we wish to reach the mysterious depths of the Dao of calligraphy, therefore, we need to possess a spiritual disposition, something that cannot be forcefully obtained. True genius happens through enlightenment of the heart, and cannot be achieved by visual observation alone… Once the student becomes enlightened to the ultimate goal of calligraphy, she will be writing in a state of non-doing (wuwei).” Through the process of dynamic movements and the intense focus of the practitioner, calligraphy can induce a state of meditative introspection where the regular concern for achievements and fame and fortune and the condition of the physical body do not matter anymore; where the heart is calm and worries kept outside the door; where the mind is completely present; where sensory input and busy thoughts are screened out. Our heart-mind thus experiences in a most direct and empirical way a state where the spirit is completely at peace and where there are no distracting thoughts. When the brush is moved over the paper in such a state, we can’t call it a movement of the hand anymore—it is entirely a movement of the heart. It is a state of primordial oneness (hundun), where the only thing there is is nothingness, which in turn feels very real. At that moment, nothing can be grasped in a physical sense, but everything is clearly understood by intuition and direct transmission; the movement of heart, hand, and brush is completely one with the macrocosmic movement of nature. The natural state of the soul, in other words, resonates in unity with the natural state of the material world. This state of being can pierce the material veil surrounding the multitude of phenomena in our universe and intuit their true essence. This type of calligraphic activity not only reflects a natural movement of the human instinct, but represents the evolutive nature of the ascendance of spirit and transformation to a new level of knowledge. When we cultivate this state of peace and emptiness, our true self emerges and unity with the heart of the universe can come into being. © 2013 Heiner Fruehauf 杨旭道长谈道家书法与养生 清净之笔养清静之心 养生，在我国最早见于《庄子。内篇》。 “ 养” ，即保养、调养、补养之意；而“ 生” ，即生命、生存、生长之义。由此可见， “ 养生” 的目的就是尽量延长生命时限，尽力提升生活质量。 如果说养生是中医的特长所在，那么养心便是中医养生的核心，而调气则是这个核心当中的核心。而实际上， “ 气” 也是最适合用来表述中医精髓的一个词汇。 书法是一门艺术，也是一种养生之道。书法能养神，养神能练意，有效地减少或避免心理对于生理的干扰。练习书法，形神共养，使书家形神一体，心身统 一，从而健康长寿。书法体现了形神共养的统一性。 “ 形为神之宅” 。形体的养护在于动，动以养形。清代养生家曹庭栋主张： “ 养静为摄生首务” 。静以养神，养神则保形。习书法时全神贯注，人的思想纯静、恬淡、少欲，心神不被外界事物所扰动，在追名逐利的风潮面前，甘于清贫，恪守寂寞，使体内阴阳 平衡，保证人体内环境的稳定状态，延缓细胞的分裂周期。 在书写之时，心静手动，形神合一，心不外驰，专心致志，通过内外的协调作用，使血脉、气路、经络均得到疏通，从而起到消除疲劳的作用。 一个人要长寿，首先要有健康的躯体，而躯体的健康取决于良好的修养和心态，并做到用心、恒心、耐心、信心和专心，方能健康长寿。因为修身养性是长寿的原动 力。 古语有云：“善养生者养心，不善养生者养形。善养生者养内，不善养生者养外。 弘一大师也曾经在与一位友人谈及书法的时候说过， “ 朽人之字所能表示者，平淡，恬静，冲逸之致也” （林子清著《弘一大师新谱》）。所谓平淡、恬静、冲逸之致，这是书家表现在书法上的一种意境。但这种意境却往往与书家的心性修养，与书家淡泊、宁静、虚和 的内在气质息息相关。毋庸置疑，这也是一种美，是心灵世界中的内在之美。 书法学习的过程中应该注重“ 静” 的体悟，慢慢矫正愈来愈多的躁动不安的心态。只有培养出美好的心境气质，才能心手相应， 创作出美妙的书法作品。 《重阳真人授丹阳二十四诀》讲：“内清静者，心不起杂念; 外清静者，诸尘不染著。” 书法训练除了传承中国文化瑰宝以外，还有一个重要功能就是调息调气，修身养性。 周星莲在《临池管见》中指出： “ 静坐作书数十字或数百字，便觉矜躁俱平，若行、草，任意挥洒，至痛快淋漓之候，又觉灵心焕发。 ” 他这里所说的“ 气” 主要是指精神气、灵气，本就兼含精神与物质，能使生理机能调畅，手、腕、臂、身谐调，使呼吸、血液循环、脑神谐调，整个运动过程都在生理、精神谐调一致中 进行。 人们常说的气脉、气血、气息，抑或精、气、神，都是人体生命赖以续存的保障机能。就是把气息调养到极其精微、极其美妙的状态上来。明代儒学家陈白沙 （字献章）曾在一首诗中言道： “ 时时心气要调停，心气功夫一体成。莫道求心不求气，须教心气两和平（淸· 黄宗羲《明儒学案》）。 ” 此诗不但指出了心与气调控的重要性，而且说出了心气调停在于心的平和，以及书法学习的一个重要任务与目标。 书法从每一点画内在精微的运笔，到点画本身、结字、布置等，其间轻重快慢的讲究，行笔的起伏、放收，运笔情绪的高潮与低潮；力度上的强与弱，刚与柔；速度 上的缓与急，断与续；感情上的紧张与松弛；结体上的复杂与单纯，密集与简练；疏密、虚实、欹侧、聚散、呼应，深浅离合，阴阳义理，到处都充满着万事物理的 阴阳互转、得失相倚、中和共存的变化统一规律，合于宇宙生命的物理事由，合于易道、老庄和儒家思想，隐含着先民思维方式的秘密。 医学专家和心理学家经统计研究得出：可使人长寿的二十种职业中，书法名列榜首。还在唐杜甫慨叹人生七十古来稀时，欧阳询就活了83 岁，虞世南81 岁，颜真卿被害时77 岁，柳公权88 岁。智永“ 年故百岁乃终” 。考察自秦至清的162 位知名书法家，生卒可考的133 人中，最高年龄93 岁，最低年龄36 岁。其中高龄人(80 岁以上)24 人；中龄人(70—79 岁)35 人；低龄人(60—69 岁)54 人； 50 岁以下16 人， 4 人被杀。 133 人的平均寿命为65 ． 7 岁。而根据史料记载平均寿命：西周、秦汉时为20 岁，唐代27 岁，宋代30 岁，清代33 岁，解放前为35 岁。两相比较，悬殊极大。按65 岁以上为长寿人口的划分， 133 人中属长寿人口者有79 人，占57 ． 2 ％。这在古代经济尚不发达、医学还很落后的时代书法家有如此高的寿限是极其不易的。这样的事实表明， 书法与长寿有着必然的内在联系。 古人早已论说： “ 书者，抒也，散也。抒胸中气，散心中郁也。故书家每得以无疾而寿。 ” 清代周星莲说： “ 作书能养气，亦能助气。 ” 医家黄匡说： “ 学书用于养心愈疾，君子乐之。 ” 欧阳修《试笔》坦言： “ 自少所喜事多矣。中年以来，渐已废去，或厌而不为，或好之来厌，力有不能而止者。其愈久益深而尤不厌者，书也。 ” “ 苏子美尝言：明窗净几，笔砚纸墨，皆极精良，亦自是人生一乐。然能得此乐者甚稀…… 余晚知此趣，恨字体不工，不能到古人佳处。若以为乐，则自是有余。 ” 陆游称他看到林逋书法时说： “ 君复（林逋之字）书法高胜绝人，予见之，方病不药而愈，方饥不食而饱。 ” 习书时脑体并用，动静相适，调息养气，调节情绪，优化心境，让人身心愉悦，志气平和，既自娱又养生。庄子教人体验虚静的自然— ---- 一种人内在的心灵的自然，而非外在的环境的自然。人通过“ 心斋” 、 “ 坐忘” 的体验， “ 致虚极，守静笃” 、 “ 同于大通” ，进而摆脱“ 物役” ，获得心灵的自由。用心灵的自然，去寻找、发现人自身以外的宇宙的自然，达到“ 以人合天” 的逍遥游境界。而临池正能引导人逐渐地获得这种心灵自由的超升境界。因此，虞世南说： “ 欲书之时，当收视反听，绝虑凝神，心正气和，则契于妙。 …… 然则字虽有质，迹本无为，禀阴阳动静，体万物以成形，达性通变，其常不主。故知书道玄妙，必资神遇，不可以力求也。机巧必须心悟，不可以目取也…… 学者心悟于至道，则书者于无为。 ” 临池过程中，通过各种精微的运动变化，集中书写者的注意力，逐渐地引导人内省，弃功利，去名誉，忘形体，澄怀屏虑，心志专一，摒除耳目心思，进行心理直观 体验，进入一种心灵的无念的虚静状态。那时的挥毫，已非手运，而是心运。那是一种混沌状态，一切是无，一切又仿佛是有，有与无，已无任何可以捉摸把握的形 态，澄澈而空明。这里的心、手、笔的动，是吻合于自然的动，是以心灵的自然去合物的自然；这里的心境，洞透宇宙万物的本质；这里的书写活动，不仅是人的本 能的自然活动，而更应是人精神升华、知识灵化了的自然律动。人至虚静，那顿现的是自我真实也就与宇宙之心融为一体了。Download (PDF)

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On Daoist Calligraphy and the Art of Nourishing Life: Pure and Centered Brush Strokes Cultivate a Pure and Peaceful Heart

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