Filling the Belly & Purifying the Mind
An Introductory, Comparative Study of Buddhism & Daoism
The following text begins with an introduction to the circumstances in which it was written, followed by two brief summaries of Buddhism and Daoism. The final section of this piece introduces some of the major similarities and differences between the two traditions.
Introduction — Conflicting Paths & Luangpor
When I was in my mid-teens I started visiting a Theravada Buddhist hermitage in England. There I developed a meditation practice as well as some understanding of Buddhist thought. After I finished school, I decided to travel to East Asia in search of places to deepen my practice. During this time, I visited the Wudang Mountains in central China, which is a traditional centre of Daoist culture and practice. I went there because a month or two earlier I read a book on qigong, a traditional Chinese movement art with links to Daoism, and began practising a very basic form outlined within it. Whilst in the Wudang Mountains, I studied qigong, martial arts, and read some of the Daoist classics. Most importantly, however, I visited a relatively remote Daoist temple that offered foreigners live-in courses on aspects of Daoist inner cultivation. The abbot of the temple was remarkable, and I decided to return the following year to study with him.
During my time at the temple, I often felt confused about whether to follow a Buddhist or Daoist path. I was intensely committed to Buddhism, but could not escape the fact that my training in Daoism was changing me in ways that felt entirely right. My dilemma was resolved when I returned home and began a qigong teacher training program. The teacher leading this course turned out to be a highly skilled practitioner, and opened the door to authentic Daoist internal practice in a way I previously could not have imagined. Since then, Daoism has been my root tradition, but I continue to have a deep respect for Buddhism and regularly stay in Buddhist monasteries.
There is already a strong Western Buddhist tradition, whereas Daoism remains deeply misunderstood. This is partly due to historical prejudice in both the West and China, but also because of the specific complexities of Daoist thought and practice. Daoism is extremely diverse — without a single founder, key text, or place of origin. Also, Daoist methods of cultivation are often esoteric and there is a certain degree of secrecy surrounds them. Lastly, the theoretical framework upon which Daoist practice is built seems somewhat bewildering at first, and takes concerted effort for a modern western mind to understand. Because of these things, there is a lot of misleading information about Daoism out there, and limited access to authentic Daoist practice.
Although a lot has changed since I first started visiting the Theravada Buddhist hermitage, I have kept in touch with abbot Luangpor Khemadhammo, and continue to visit for short retreats. Luangpor is the head of the Buddhist Prison Chaplaincy in England, and received an OBE for ‘service to prisoners’. He has also been a kind of North Star in my development; over the years I have studied in other traditions, yet never had any doubt that Luangpor’s rigorous adherence to discipline, simplicity, and the core features of Buddhist practice are central to leading a committed contemplative life. I am also grateful that my first experience of Buddhism was this traditional model, rather than one watered down to suit modern cultural trends. Although I am fascinated by New Age teachings and sometimes find them useful, I think they are far more meaningful when built upon a solid foundation of discipline, morality and humility, of the kind that traditional teachings emphasise.
Recently, Luangpor and I discussed whether I might become a Buddhist prison chaplain. The idea appealed to me as I wanted to do something of service and also felt that it would be a good way to grow as a teacher. Aware of my Daoist practice, Luangpor asked that before thinking further about the Buddhist prison chaplaincy, I clarify whether I am, indeed, a Buddhist. Although this is not the case, I thought my respect for Buddhism and understanding of Buddhist practice would mean that the specific nature of my own practice was not important. However, I am aware that this ecumenical perspective is not shared by all, and to some extent reflects the Chinese religious-philosophical environment in which I am situated. There is a long established view within China that sees the three traditions of Buddhism, Daoism, and Confucianism as approaching the same one truth. This is depicted memorably by the image of the ‘Three Vinegar Tasters’, in which the Buddha, Laozi, and Confucius are all depicted tasting the same vat of vinegar.
Anyway, during our discussion about the Buddhist Prison Chaplaincy, Luangpor, very politely, expressed a number of concerns he had about Daoist practice. The points he raised are often spoken about, and they are things that I have often thought about myself. Seeing this as a good opportunity to get my own thoughts straight, I asked Luangpor if I could reply to him in writing. He kindly agreed, and that was the seed for this piece of writing. In short, Luangpor made three points: that Daoism is primarily concerned with healing, health, and wellbeing; that Daoism strongly emphasises the cultivation of the body; and that Daoism lacks Buddhism’s fundamental orientation towards liberation from suffering.
Before going on to a more in depth comparison of Buddhism and Daoism, here are my thoughts on the points Luangpor made. First, in answer to the point that Daoism is primarily concerned with health and healing, I would say that practitioners of both Buddhism and Daoism have to begin their journeys here. It is impossible to move into deeper spiritual practice without a body and mind that are relatively balanced. Daoism speaks about this directly, and it is one of the reasons why Daoists have often also been skilled practitioners of Chinese medicine. The early stages of Buddhist practice also relate to healing — being in a peaceful environment, practising methods for calming the mind and establishing mindfulness, bringing structure to one’s life through precepts, regular routine, physical labour, and discipline. Second, in answer to the point that Daoism strongly emphasises cultivation of the body, I would say that, yes, Daoism does indeed place far more emphasis on physical and energetic cultivation than Buddhism does. This is because Daoism does not understand cultivation as the dispelling of delusion (a mental quality), but instead as the refinement of various energetic ‘substances’, which is most effectively done through both body and mind-based practices. I will speak about this more below. Third, in answer to the point that Daoism lacks Buddhism’s fundamental orientation towards liberation from suffering, I would say that, yes, the Daoist path is not conceptualised as leading to liberation from suffering. Instead, it is understood as a path leading to union with Dao. It is my opinion that, although the wording and conceptual framework behind these two aims are different, in reality they are not far apart. Again, more on this below.
In the following study, I begin by briefly summarising both Buddhism and Daoism, before comparing them with one another. This is clearly an enormous topic, and one that multiple PhDs would only begin to scratch the surface of. I hope the reader will forgive any mistakes I have made, or glaringly obvious points I have missed. Please see this piece as more of a collection of personal thoughts and opinions, rather than as an attempt to objectively stake out the territory.
Daoism — A Very Short Summary
Daoism is a highly diverse religious and philosophical tradition. Originally, it developed as numerous independent lineages that shared a broadly similar orientation and drew upon the same reservoir of traditional Chinese ideas and practices. Although these lineages can be traced to at least the 4th century BCE, a shared ‘Daoist’ identity only emerged in the 4th century CE. The following summary of Daoism is written from the perspective of Quanzhen Daoism, which is one of two remaining forms of Daoism today.
The Daoist worldview is not composed of static, individuated objects, but rather fluid processes of transformation. Daoism speaks about these processes of transformation, as well as the substances that are said to be transforming, in terms of qi. Daoist inner cultivation revolves around the refinement of three kinds of qi, known as the Three Treasures of jing, qi, and shen. Refinement of the Three Treasures is said to transform the structure and functioning of both body and mind.
The refinement of jing (vital essence) and qi (vital energy) takes the body through a process of energetic transformation in order to dramatically increase its efficiency.
The refinement of shen (spirit) transforms the mind through the cultivation of stillness.
There is a long running debate within Daoism about whether mind or body should be cultivated first. In my experience, it depends on the individual and the environment in which they are practising. Some people should begin with their mind, whilst most should begin with their body. If you are beginning to cultivate whilst living a modern, western lifestyle, then it makes sense to begin with energetic practice. If you are beginning to cultivate in a traditional temple setting, it is possible to begin with mind-based practice and make good progress. So, in most cases it is wiser to consider the refinement of jing and qi (body-based practice) as foundational for the refinement of shen (mind). Just as a lighthouse beacon is placed on top of a solid tower, a highly cultivated body can act as the ideal foundation for the cultivation of mind. Nevertheless, because the mind and body are deeply connected, the cultivation of body in the early-intermediate stages of practice strongly affects the mind, and likewise the intermediate-advanced stages of mind-based practice will strongly affect on the body.
Most methods of Daoist inner cultivation abide by a similar set of principles. We begin with the principle of zheng (correct structure). Having established the correct physical alignments and focus of mind, we then apply the quality of song (release around structure). Correct structure is maintained, whilst all forms of excess tension are released. Song opens the body and mind, leading to a kind of strength that is derived from suppleness, buoyancy, and expansion. Song is dependent on the principle of ting (listening, sensitivity). In order to deepen release, our awareness must first be able to locate and penetrate areas of tension. Song and ting work in a symbiotic relationship, with each deepening in relation to the other. Once zheng has been properly established and ting and song developed to a high level, then a state of non-discriminatory awareness, known as wuwei, arises naturally.
As wuwei develops, space opens within oneself on many levels. Within the mind, the tangle of knots relating to one’s identity and sense of self begin loosening, and we return to a state of ziran (naturalness, such-ness), also referred to as pu (un-hewn simplicity). Wuwei is a profound state, the implications of which Daoism explores at length. It’s linked to being without desires, and associated with the supreme presence and clarity of mind needed to fathom the deepest mysteries. Constantly residing in wuwei, it was assumed that a practitioner may begin to approach the Dao. As the Dao is approached, a quality known as de (inner power, virtue) arises. The Dao itself cannot be understood intellectually — instead we align with it through inner cultivation. One who has completed this process is said to have achieved zhen — authenticity, reality, perfection. Beyond achieving zhen, Daoism controversially states that the highest possible achievement is to become a xian (transcendent, immortal). The meaning of this term varies, but generally implies that a practitioner has succeeded in alchemically refining and fusing together various energetic, chemical and spiritual substances to form an entity capable of ascending to higher realms once the physical body disintegrates.
Buddhism — A Very Short Summary
Buddhism is a religious and philosophical tradition that was founded in Northern India by Siddhartha Gautama in the 5th century BCE. Siddhartha is said to have perfected his mind and thereby achieved liberation from both human suffering and the cycle of rebirths. The Buddha, as Siddhartha came to be known, taught for 45 years, during which time he left behind numerous teachings (dhamma), and established a monastic community (sangha). The following summary is written form the perspective of Theravada Buddhism, which is the oldest form of Buddhism extant today.
The Buddhist worldview mixes ancient Indian Vedic thought with the Buddha’s own personal insights. Ideas such as the law of cause and effect (karma) and the cycle of rebirth (samsara) are found within Indian thought more broadly, whilst ideas such as the ‘Three Marks of Existence’ are particular to Buddhism. These ‘Three Marks’ are unsatisfactoriness (dukkha), impermanence (anicca), and non-self (anatta). The Buddha considered liberation from suffering to be dependent on full and direct understanding of the Three Marks. Related to the Three Marks are the Four Noble Truths, which are the fundamental basis of all Buddhist thought, regardless of tradition.
One way of thinking about the Four Noble Truths is to see them as a traditional medicinal treatment. The ailment is noted, its cause located, the treatment defined, and prescription dispensed. In the first truth, the Buddha locates humanity’s ailment as suffering or, more specifically, the fundamentally dissatisfactory nature of existence (dukkha). In the second truth, he suggests that the cause of this ailment is human desire, or ‘thirst’ (samudaya/tanha). In the third truth, the Buddha claimed that the possibility of freedom from desire, or ‘cessation’ is possible (nirodha). In the fourth truth, the Buddha prescribes the Noble Eightfold Path (magga), or eight aspects of one’s life that must be performed correctly. The Noble Eightfold Path can be broken down into three divisions: virtue (right speech, action, and livelihood), meditation (right effort, mindfulness, and concentration/absorption), and insight (right intention, and view).
In practice, the root and foundation of Buddhist cultivation is the establishment of virtue by adherence to precepts. One then deepens their understanding of the Buddhist system through textual study, and receives personalised instruction and guidance from a teacher. The third aspect of Buddhist practice is the practice of meditation to develop concentration/absorption (samatha) and insight (vipassana). The most essential aspect of Buddhist practice is meditation. Virtue and an accurate conceptual understanding of practice are both relatively easy to develop, and it is not difficult to find a good teacher to guide you. However, in-depth practice of meditation, of the kind that leads to final liberation of mind, requires total commitment in order to progress well.
Broadly speaking, there are two kinds of meditation within the Theravada tradition. First, samatha meditation develops stabilisation of mind. On a basic level, this is the ability to hold the mind on one thing, but really it is about moving through the jhanas, or levels of meditative absorption. The second kind of meditation is vipassana, or insight mediation. After developing a certain level of skill in absorption, a variety of techniques are used to place the mind in a state of open awareness. In such a state, the concentrated mind is able to perceive the true nature of existence, free itself from delusion, and achieve liberation from suffering.
A Comparison of Buddhist & Daoist Cultivation
Within the Gelugpa school of Tibetan Buddhism, those studying within monastic universities develop an understanding of different Buddhist schools by comparing their respective ‘grounds, aims and means’. ‘Grounds’ are the worldview or, more specifically, the metaphysical assertions, upon which the practice is constructed. ‘Aims’ are the intended purpose of practice, and ‘means’ are the methods used to achieve the school’s aims. Here, I will apply this framework of ‘grounds, aims and means’ to look comparatively as Theravada Buddhism and Quanzhen Daoism.
The ‘grounds’ of Buddhist and Daoist practice are similar in a number of important ways, whilst also being quite fundamentally different. In terms of similarity, both traditions see humans as existing in a state of imperfection and suggest that by developing oneself in certain ways, a kind of perfection can be achieved prior to death. In both traditions, this process of development is conceptualised as a path that one walks. In my mind, this is a very important similarity that lies at the heart of why I understand Buddhism and Daoism as deeply compatible. It is also a similarity not shared with semitic religions, pessimistic philosophies, western science, or any host of other ways in which human life has been understood. Quanzhen Daoism also incorporates a number of ideas taken from the Buddhist worldview, especially those found within Indian traditions more broadly. In particular, both karma and rebirth are central to Quanzhen. Discussions of emptiness (sunyata, kong) also play an important role in Quanzhen, although these tend to be a mix of Mahayana Buddhist presentations, as found in texts such as Heart Sutra, as well as older Daoist ideas relating to the void (xu). This is a complex topic but in short, Quanzhen Daoism follows Mahayana Buddhism in suggesting that nothing possesses the kind of substantial reality commonly assumed, whilst also speaking about emptiness as a distinct ontological reality sitting just beyond manifest reality.
The ‘grounds’ of Buddhist and Daosit practice also possess a number of fundamental differences. Here I will note the two that I feel are more significant. First, different conceptual models are used to understand reality. Theravada Buddhism sees the world as being composed on numerous dhammas, which are akin to ancient Greek ideas of the elements — fundamental building blocks out of which all things are composed. In contrast, the Daoist view is composed of numerous models for mapping the way in which things transform. Daoism takes the view that are things are simply forms of qi, and then goes on to map the way in which qi moves, transforms, and interacts with other processes of transformation. The most famous of these models are yin yang, five phases, and the eight trigrams. Second, Daoism is not based on an understanding of existence as being unsatisfactory, and this has a major impact of the flavours of the two traditions.
Comparing the ‘aims’ of both traditions, Buddhism can be understood quite precisely as the path to liberation from suffering and the cycle of rebirth. In this sense, it is soteriological, or concerned with achieving ‘salvation’ from an unpleasant situation. Daoism, on the other hand, emerges from a more complex, perhaps muddied, array of human instincts and drives. Yes, the desire to reach a point of transcendent union with the Dao is the ultimate goal, but the Daoist motivation for doing so seems to arise more from a sense of curiosity, meandering-ness, almost humour, rather than deep longing for cessation. The complexity of motives for Daoist practice is reflected in the various aims found within Daoist practice, some of which are concerned solely with the achievement of zhen (perfection, authenticity, reality), whilst others are more interested in alchemical practice leading to xian (transcendence, immortality).
From a theoretical, doctrinal perspective, there is no doubt that the ‘aims’ of Buddhist and Daoist practice are different. Yet, how could it be that these two profound, ancient traditions of inner cultivation are talking about completely different things? Behind the veneer of conceptual difference, are they not both essentially concerned the development of our psychosomatic makeup in ways that lead to ability, understanding and peace? More precisely, no matter how complex, specific and esoteric both traditions often become, I cannot escape feeling that they both arise from a shared human spiritual impulse, and that, by different means, they both lead to the fulfilment of that deepest part of being that seeks transcendence, finality, and return to the light. Although I know many will object to it, I am particularly fond of this last term — the cultivation and nourishment of a light that exists prior to thought. It points to the spiritual impulse within us that precedes tradition or creed. I cannot imagine a highly achieved Buddhist and Daoist master meeting one another and failing to see within the eyes of the other an illumination that precedes words, that they would not simply know by the presence and being of the other that they were in the company of one who understood — who had freed themselves from the fetters of common existence and developed the ability to live in deep and profound connection to reality.
Nonetheless, that does not mean that the ‘means’, or methods used by the two traditions are the same. Whereas Buddhism is concerned almost solely with the cultivation of mind, Daoist practice is usually the ‘dual cultivation’ of both mind and body/energetic system. Now, it seems Buddhism does not cultivate the body because it conceptualises the path specifically as the removal of delusion — a psychological trait. On the other hand, Daoism cultivates the body because it understands cultivation as the refinement of qi (vital energy), which is most effectively done through both mind and body-based practices. Having said this, look at any Daoist text and you will see the primacy given to mind. There is a great deal of preliminary work that can be done through energetic work, but final union with Dao comes through the nourishing of mind in stillness.
The idea that cultivation of the energetic body can lead to spiritual development is also found in Indian Hindu and Tibetan Buddhist tantric traditions. It is interesting to note that both tantra and Daoist energetic practice historically developed much later than systems that purely focus on cultivation of mind. The reason for this seems rather simple — energetic practice most likely developed and adopted by numerous religious traditions simply because they found it to be beneficial in achieving their aims.. Work solely with the mind is very difficult. Energetic practice makes this easier either by either building large amounts of energy within the body that can be used as ‘fuel’ for reaching advanced states of meditation, or energy can be cultivated to move in certain ways that it ‘opens’ certain aspects of the body that affect the mind in profound ways. In the context of Daoism, I often think about a quote from the Laozi: “My words are very easy to understand and very easy to practice, but no one is able to understand or practice them.” One way of viewing the entirety of the later Daoist tradition, and its array of energetic practices, is as various therapeutic techniques for making the insights, instructions, and vision of life found within the Laozi an accessible and realistic life path.
Final Thoughts
Buddhism and Daoism approach inner cultivation with sets of theoretical models, or grounds. These possess important similarities, as well as fundamental differences. Likewise, means, or methods, employed by both traditions similar in some respects, yet differ significantly in others. Thinking about the aims of both traditions, it is my opinion that although they conceptualise them differently, it doesn’t make sense to see them in any way other than moving in the same direction. Perhaps both arrive at the same summit, but from different directions. Perhaps, the mountain is twin peaked, and the roots taken by both arrive at different places, both high. I feel I will only have more insight into this as a result of moving further in my practice.
The path one takes up the mountain is a question for the individual — to find which system they have greatest affinity with, to find the tradition with methods most suited to their temperament and needs. Another aspect to this is that of one’s individual life-path. We are presented with opportunities, different doors open throughout our lives. Personally, although the door of Buddhist practice opened early and I walked through it gladly, as I continued seeking, I found that the potential for inner cultivation, for self-development and spiritual growth, took an increasingly Daoist form. This seems natural to me.
Coda
“Exchange unprofitable religious speculations for actual God-contact. Clear your mind of dogmatic theological debris; let in the fresh, healing waters of direct perception.”
— Lahiri Mahasaya (1828-1895, Kriya Yogi)
“When you run after your thoughts, you are like a dog chasing a stick: every time a stick is thrown, you run after it. Instead, be like a lion who, rather than chasing after the stick, turns to face the thrower. One only throws a stick at a lion once.”
— Milarepa (1052-1135, Kagyu Buddhist)
“As transmitted within the Daoist tradition, the alchemical classics and texts of various masters, the thousand scriptures and ten thousand treatises may all be covered with a single phrase: “clarity and stillness.”
— Ma Danyang (1123-1184, Quanzhen Daoist)
Thank you for this great discussion. I really liked your part about, “cultivation and nourishment of a light thats exists before thought.” I often have questions that I generate in society, and can’t wait to return to Li Shi Fu and ask him his perspective. More often I venture there in contemplation to ask, but once I have returned in person. I find upon arrival, the questions usually unravel and the answer becomes clear, but not necessarily known, just as you differentiate in Dao De Jing chapter 10 “mingbai” and “zhi”.
I also am fascinated by your vision of the meeting of a great Daoist master and a great Buddhist master. It is a beautiful image I will be thinking about.
My journey through these two philosophies/religions was reverse of yours, as my study of Daoism preceded my study of Buddhism. I find my teachers of both overlapping; sometimes my Daoist teacher sounds like a Buddhist and sometimes my Buddhist teacher sounds like a Daoist, from the framework you have brilliantly and simply outlined here. So I admit, I have let this question dissolve of the comparison of Buddhism and Daoism, in hopes of someone like you who would have a deeper understanding of both to bring some light to it 🙏
I'm curious what Daoist book you read that had qigong forms in it. I do qigong forms already but have just began looking into the thought behind them.