Category: Methods

Grok AI on Wuweidao & Zuowang

I was playing around with Grok AI and asked it a few questions about our practice. I was impressed with what it came up with – especially the picture it drew when I asked what I’d look like in ten years if I keep up my practice.

What is Wuweidao?

Wuweidao is a spiritual path rooted in the ancient Chinese wisdom text, the Dao De Jing, often associated with the philosophy of Daoism. The term combines “wuwei” (無為), meaning “non-action” or “effortless action,” and “dao” (道), meaning “the Way,” suggesting a practice of aligning oneself with the natural flow of existence without force or contrived effort. It emphasizes self-revelation and the discovery of one’s true nature through simplicity, ease, and spontaneity.

Historically, Wuweidao has been described as a transformative approach that has inspired various cultivation traditions in China and beyond. It encourages practitioners to let go of compulsive striving and instead embrace a state of being that harmonizes with the Dao—the underlying principle of the universe. A key practice in Wuweidao is zuowang (坐忘), or “sitting and forgetting,” a form of non-conceptual meditation aimed at quieting the mind and releasing attachments to desires or intellectual grasping.

In the Western context, Wuweidao was notably introduced in the late 20th century by Liu Ming, a practitioner who passed away in 2015. His students have since continued to share this “nameless stream” of teachings, often through structured cultivation groups that study the Dao De Jing and integrate practices like meditation, recitation, and sometimes supplementary arts such as tea ceremonies or daoyin (Daoist exercises). Unlike more elaborate Daoist religious traditions, Wuweidao focuses on a direct, unadorned approach to experiencing the Dao.

In essence, Wuweidao is about living effortlessly in tune with the natural order, cultivating inner peace and joy by diminishing artificial effort and aligning with what is authentic and unforced.

Explain Zuowang meditation

Zuowang (坐忘), often translated as “sitting and forgetting” or “sitting in oblivion,” is a meditative practice rooted in Daoist tradition, particularly emphasized in the context of Wuweidao and earlier Daoist texts like the Zhuangzi. The term breaks down into “zuo” (坐), meaning “to sit,” and “wang” (忘), meaning “to forget,” pointing to a practice where one sits in stillness and lets go of mental attachments, concepts, and distractions. It’s less about achieving a specific state and more about dissolving the barriers created by the mind to reveal one’s natural, uncontrived connection to the Dao—the Way.

Core Concept

Zuowang is grounded in the Daoist principle of wuwei (non-action), where the practitioner refrains from forcing or directing the mind. Instead of focusing on a single point (like in some concentrative meditations) or actively visualizing, zuowang involves releasing intentional effort. The “forgetting” aspect refers to letting go of:

  • Personal identity or ego
  • Desires and aversions
  • Discursive thoughts and intellectual analysis
  • Even the notion of meditating itself

The goal isn’t to suppress thoughts but to allow them to arise and pass without clinging, much like clouds drifting across a clear sky. This aligns with the Daoist view that the natural state of being is already whole and doesn’t need to be engineered.

How It’s Practiced

While specific instructions can vary depending on the teacher or lineage, zuowang typically follows these general steps:

  1. Physical Preparation: Sit comfortably, often cross-legged or on a chair, with an upright yet relaxed posture. The body should feel stable but not rigid, reflecting the balance of effort and ease.
  2. Settling In: Begin with a few deep breaths to relax the body, then let breathing return to its natural rhythm. There’s no need to control it.
  3. Letting Go: Rather than focusing on an object (like the breath or a mantra), simply rest in open awareness. When thoughts, emotions, or sensations arise, don’t fight them or follow them—just “forget” them by not engaging.
  4. Non-Attachment: If you notice yourself planning, worrying, or even evaluating the meditation, gently release that too. The practice is about shedding layers of mental activity, not adding new ones.
  5. Duration: Sessions can last anywhere from 15 minutes to an hour, depending on the practitioner’s experience and context, though there’s no strict rule.

Historical Roots

Zuowang appears in the Zhuangzi (circa 4th century BCE), a foundational Daoist text, where it’s described as a state of merging with the Dao by abandoning worldly concerns. In Chapter 6, a dialogue between Confucius and his disciple Yan Hui illustrates it: Yan Hui describes progressing by “forgetting” rituals, music, benevolence, and righteousness, eventually sitting in oblivion to unite with the “Great Pervader” (the Dao). Later, in the Tang Dynasty (7th–10th centuries), Daoist adepts like Sima Chengzhen formalized zuowang as a cultivation method, outlining stages of stillness and detachment.

What It Feels Like

Practitioners often report a sense of spaciousness or lightness as the mind’s chatter fades. It’s not about blankness or unconsciousness but a lucid, effortless presence—like settling into the flow of a river rather than swimming against it. Over time, this can cultivate a deep inner calm and a shift in how one relates to daily life, emphasizing spontaneity over control.

Purpose in Wuweidao

In the Wuweidao tradition, zuowang is a key practice for embodying the Dao. It strips away the artificial constructs of self and society, allowing the practitioner to experience their “true nature” (ziran, 自然), which is inherently aligned with the universe. It’s less a technique for achieving something and more a way of unbecoming what obscures the Dao’s natural expression.

In short, zuowang meditation is a quiet, radical letting-go—a sitting that invites the practitioner to dissolve into the vast, unnameable flow of existence.

Hui-Dao (會道) – Assembly of Dao

Dragon pokes its nose
Ancient wisdom door opens
Come join the circle

…

Hello Friends,
 
In the forthcoming Year of Yang-Wood Dragon, we will be introducing a practice called Hui-Dao (會道), which translates as Assembly of Dao or the Way of Council. Hui-Dao was practiced by the original Celestial Masters lineage in the Han Dynasty – they considered community an indispensable treasure of the path.
 
But this practice is not limited to any particular religion or sect – this is the ancient wisdom practice of human beings across myriad cultures gathering in a circle and sharing their experience in a particular way. I believe this is how the Dao De Jing and countless other wisdom paths emerged. Let’s start engaging this practice in our Wuweidao Cultivation Group.

There are many ways to hold council. But there are specific principles and protocols helpful for invoking the latent magic of true community. I am a mere beginner in this craft – I am still learning and will surely continue to stumble in my efforts to facilitate our emerging body of practice – may my sincerity merit your trust.

The Hui-Dao circle is a sacred space we set up together to invoke Dao and see what arises.  Come ready to engage. For more information, email me at oldoakdao@yahoo.com.

…

Zuowang as Refuge

Shou-Zhong

This talk looks at the practice of Daoist meditation in the context of living in affliction.  The religious movement of Orthodox Daoism founded in the Han Dynasty recognized that the era of high antiquity was long-gone, so “Chinese Daoism” arose as a practice to rectify humankind and purify polluted spiritual dimensions.  Centuries later, Buddhism influenced Daoism in its concern for human suffering, and Daoist tradition further embraced the idea of practice as refuge.  Although we can perhaps relate to such a view, this talk presents an older view of meditation not based on the need to solve any fundamental problem.  A glimpse into our approach to Zuowang.

Zuowang as Refuge

Method (術)

 

Shu-MethodLet’s check out this Chinese character – (shù, 術).  It has 3 parts – center, left, & right.  In the center is the character for wood (mù, 木).  Wood is one of the Five Elements or Qi-Phases; it represents young yang, springtime, morning – like a young shoot piercing through the surface of the earth.  I’m not sure what the small stroke at the top means (术), but I surmise that it has something to do with the movement of wood – so I take the central character to essentially mean growth or the process of qi rising and moving and transforming.

The character on the left (chì, 彳) means stepping with the left foot.  The character on the right (chù, 亍) means stepping with the right foot.  If we take the left & right character together and remove the center, it means to step slowly (chìchù, 彳亍).  If we put them into a single character, we get xíng (行), which means to walk or circulate – remember the Xing Qi Jade Inscription?

So what does the full character shù (術) mean?  The slow stepping of wood?  The step-by-step process of growth and transformation.  Moment-to-moment flow of Dao.  It may surprise us to learn that the character translates as “method”, “art”, or “technique”, as in wushu (wǔshù, 武術) – martial art.

We sometimes refer to our central practice of Zuowang as the method of no-method, similar to Silent Illumination Chan.  But of course there’s a method to sitting appropriately, just like anything else.

I practice a Russian martial art called Systema.  One of the central ideas of Systema is not focusing on techniques but rather the principles of posture, relaxation, breathing, & natural movement.  Of course there are tons of techniques, but Systema lets them arise spontaneously in response to the situation.  This is why I’ve always felt Systema is a marvelous expression of wuwei.  It’s not about not having any techniques, but not “making” any techniques, not forcing anything onto the situation – staying precisely in the situation we’re in and responding appropriately based on the principles.  Techniques arise of themselves.  The nice thing about martial arts is we can test their efficacy – it’s not just a philosophical position.  That unforgiving feedback is really helpful!

Shu (術) doesn’t mean we have to practice this method or that method.  And it certainly doesn’t mean we need to introduce unnatural or exotic practices into our experience.  It means if we’re going to practice some art – whatever it is – then we need to attend to the process of growth and transformation very carefully, step-by-step.  This means staying with reality as-it-is right now.

Our tradition speaks of “method” in terms of formal practice & informal conduct.  Formal practice means various arts of hygiene, meditation, & ritual, all practiced within the context of our view-teaching.  Different ways to support & express our human life.  But Daoism doesn’t just mean doing some formal Daoist practice.  Perhaps it means staying closely attuned to the clay when spinning a potter’s wheel.  Perhaps it means fully expressing each note when playing a flute.  Perhaps it’s the way a deer steps through the forest, or the way a poem rises out of an inspired moment*.  Is this a method or a non-method?

Step with care.

 

*Shout out to Heath Thompson.

Three Kinds of Internal Cultivation

In our school, as is common in Daoist traditions, we take three distinct approaches to internal cultivation: neigong, neidan, & neiguan.  The term for internal cultivation is neixiu (內修) – nei (內) means internal; xiu (修) means to study, repair, or cultivate.

The notion of internal cultivation holds prominence in Chinese traditions, particularly Daoism.  But exactly what “internal” means isn’t always clear, and different traditions often define it differently.  Distinguishing internal from external requires that we establish some threshold, some barrier between inside & outside.  As far as I can tell, there is no absolute barrier; it just depends on where we define the threshold.  I have heard people define internal to mean anything from arts that emerged within the borders of Han China, to esoteric traditions that maintain secret teachings reserved for insiders, to martial arts that cultivate the use of qi instead of li (brute strength).  All of these have relevance within Daoism, but the one we’re most concerned with here is the cultivation of jing-qi-shen.

Each approach to internal cultivation has its own distinct view, method, & fruition.  They don’t all necessarily lead to the same result.  It’s a good idea to be clear about what our view is, and what approach we are taking in our various practices.

Neigong (內功) means internal work, practice, or skill.  It means to practice with an inward focus, with the intention to develop some improved state.  Gongfu is a special skill developed by arduous practice.  The purpose of neigong is to improve or maintain our internal condition – nourishing jing-qi-shen to support our health and vitality, and to promote longevity.  It’s like the idea of yangsheng (養生) – nourishing life, which we often refer to as qi-hygiene.  Qigong, Taijiquan, & Yoga are all forms of neigong, but we can also practice natural walking or any other moving or still activities as effective neigong once we are familiar with its principles.  The best neigong is that which is appropriate for our condition right now, and this changes with time and is not the same for everyone.

Neidan (內丹) means internal elixir or alchemy.  Neidan is not only about improving our internal condition, and it’s not merely about well-being or longevity, but returning our experience to the state before birth.  This transformation is similar to the idea of transforming delusion into enlightenment or sin into holiness.  It is a gradual, progressive process with clear concepts and distinct stages, and a precious, exalted goal.

Neiguan (內觀) means internal observation.  To look inside.  The character for guan shows a heron’s gaze, suggesting keen observation.  Guan also means “view” and is the word used for Daoist temple.  It is the word my teacher chose as the title for his Dao De Jing translation, as our tradition considers Laozi’s text to be the central view-teaching manual for the practice of neiguan, which we refer to as Zuowang.  Neiguan differs from the other two in that it isn’t fundamentally goal-oriented.  It’s not about improvement or transformation.  We can make it about these things, but that “making” is extra baggage from the perspective of our practice.

How do these approaches relate to each other?  Generally, a beginner or someone recovering from illness or injury is well-advised to cultivate neigong to build up their internal health and vitality.  When jing-qi-shen is smooth and abundant, then practicing neidan is possible.  We are well-advised to continue practicing neigong as long as we have a body, as it provides a base for life and neidan.  Neiguan is not part of this progressive spectrum.  Neiguan is relevant for the beginner – it is probably a good idea to introduce neiguan from the very beginning, as it sets the stage for proper neigong.  Neiguan also helps us to perceive our internal state to understand our needs.  Then when we start working with neidan, neiguan is there as a neutral source of support and stabilization.  As our practice of neidan comes to fruition, there we are in neiguan just as we were at the beginning.  Our tradition says proper neiguan brings about neidan effortlessly, and neidan simply culminates in an empowered state of neiguan.

I invite you to consider your practice methods and make sure you are clear about which of these you are practicing and why.