Ziporyn on Yin-Yang XI: Another Way to Cope

Scott Bradley

I will close this series with a consideration of how the Warring States development of the Yin-Yang system (later developments went in different directions) answered the challenge of Zhuangzi's perspectival relativism. (At my reading, Ziporyn does not demonstrate that the authors of the "Wings" (commentaries on the Zhouyi (Book of Changes)) actually felt the need to meet Zhuangzi's challenge specifically, though they do seem to be answering the proto-Daoist dismissal of the possibility of "true knowledge" generally.)

Zhuangzi's basic argument might be summed up thusly (without the complications of moral or epistemological considerations): Everyone has their self-other dyad; your self is my other; my self is your other. Is there then any true self or other? Zhuangzi replies that there is for each individual, but that they are equal in their validity. Their equality consists in their being completely reversible — your self-other is the same as my self-other. Thus, Zhuangzi states that every self is also other, and every other is also self. And thus every self-created dao is similarly equal.

Yin and Yang, however, are not reversible. They are never equal. One thing may sometimes be in a Yin or a Yang position in relation to other things, but the hierarchical prioritization of Yang remains throughout. A minister, for instance, is Yang to the people, but Yin to the king. Thus, though he is both Yin and Yang, Yin and Yang can never be said to be the same since they always retain their hierarchical character. In this way, the Yin-Yang dyad is able to admit to the relative character of the roles of individual things, but at the same time guarantee knowledge of the precise 'right' way to behave in each situation. It is an intelligible system; it tells us how to live definitively.

Zhuangzi, on the other hand, sees no definitive Dao yielding knowledge of how best to live, any non-ironic 'true' Dao, and thus recommends alighting like a bird in whatever tree one encounters. Being "free as a bird", we need not cling to any one tree, but can make profitable use of them all.

Zhuangzi's way is thus just one more way — all ways being (in some sense) equal; it is distinctive only in that it acknowledges this fact. This fact arises from "the Illumination of the Obvious", that is, by way of an honest look at our tenuous existential circumstances. In this sense, it might be described as a "philosophy of cope"; it makes the best of things as they appear, and does not artificially fabricate an interpretation of reality based on how one wishes things to be.

This, in any case, is how I describe my own philosophy: a philosophy of cope — making the best of circumstances, both general and personal, that are, let’s face it, less than ideal, and far from how I might wish them to be.

You can check out Scott's writings on Zhuangzi here.

Ziporyn on Yin-Yang X: The Givenness of Human Desire

Scott Bradley

In his Ironies of Oneness and Difference Ziporyn several times makes this observation: "To say it again, the irreducible givenness of human desire, and its irreducibility from any reading of the existing coherences in the world, is crucial here." "Here" is the entire Yin-Yang paradigm in all its manifestations. But his point is that Chinese philosophy is essentially always about trying to fulfill human aspirations, or at least, coping with a reality in which they cannot, in fact, be wholly realized, which amounts to the same thing. We might say that Chinese philosophy has its roots in deep subjectivity. Its central concern is not about an objective "what?" about the nature of the world, but about a subjective "how?" we might best live in it.

The drift of Western philosophy, on the other hand, has tended toward the objective, and this has yielded the scientific and technological 'advances' upon which most all the world now depends. It would be folly to dismiss the positive outcomes that this objectification of the world has brought us. It would also be folly, however, to overlook the negative outcomes of such a world view. Among these is a profound sense of alienation from the world, of being separate from Nature, on the one hand, and the view of the world as just so much raw material for our consumption, on the other.

It might be argued that theism is largely responsible for Western objectivism: God created the world as apart from and utterly other than 'himself', and we are enjoined to follow 'his' example and fill the Earth and "subdue" it. The more monist philosophies of the East are not also, for their part, without their downsides.

What these two points of departure have in common, it seems to me, is this acceptance of the givenness of human desires, and the aspiration to fulfill those desires (even when their conclusions sometimes seem to dismiss them). The universal goal is to live as happily as possible.

Might it not be helpful to view the philosophies of the East as Yin to the Yang of the West? Neither is in itself truly holistic; together they provide a more balanced and harmonious interface with the world and provide humanity with a means to realize human desires tempered by true sustainability.

You can check out Scott's other miscellaneous writings here.

Zipoyrn on Yin-Yang IX: The Tranquility of Turmoil

Scott Bradley

What kills the living does not die. What gives birth to all the living is not born. It is something that sends all beings off and welcomes all beings in, destroys all and completes all. Its name is the Tranquility of Turmoil. This Tranquility of Turmoil! It is what reaches completion only through its turmoil.
(Zhuangzi 6:38; Ziporyn)

In his discussion of Yin-Yang, Ziporyn speaks to the simultaneity of their complementarity and their conflict. They oppose each other, yet they do not exist apart from or without each other. Their "turmoil" is also a "tranquility".

The price of life is death. Is the price of death life? Only if we step back from concerns for our own identity and take a more abstracted view are we generally able to acknowledge that life arises out of and requires death. We glibly speak of the "cycle of life" out there in the forest, but we find it hard to apply it to ourselves.

It is so obvious in the forest. In the northwest of the American continent one might see the peculiar phenomenon of many ancient trees all in a neat row. Looking further, one might discover a "mother tree", a dead and fallen tree with numerous seedling trees taking root all along her decomposing trunk, the answer to this mystery. Without her death there would be fewer trees.

In many ways philosophical Daoism is all about taking a higher view. That view which we are able to consider and affirm when observing the life-death-life-death cycle of the forest is understood to apply to all things, ourselves included.

Completion through Tranquility and Turmoil is not the final word on Reality, any more than is Yin-Yang; the view from Dao does not consist of an explanation of the ultimate, but is rather open-ended, and ultimately empty. Looking down (as it were), we observe existence as a single coherence and affirm it in its totality. Looking up and out (as it were), we open into what can only be Mystery. Recognizing that life and death form a single string is a simple acknowledgement of the way things manifest and says nothing about ultimate Reality. Yet, it is in affirming Mystery, entrusting ourselves to it, including it in our final paradigm of coherence, that we are enabled to affirm the givens of our existence.

The larger view from Dao informs our everyday living. Every trouble, every conflict, all turmoil, is an occasion to realize more tranquility. Tranquility arises, not from the attempted abolition of conflict, but from understanding its necessity as part of life, adding it to the string (as it were), and thereby embracing it. Thus, “every enslavement is also an ennobling”. (2:41)

You can check out Scott's writings on Zhuangzi here.

Ziporyn on Yin-Yang VIII: Yin Within

Scott Bradley

With reference to the curious interpretation of trigrams according to their minority component (two Yangs and one Yin makes a "Yin trigram", while two Yins and one Yang makes a "Yang trigram") Ziporyn quotes the Warring States document The Great Commentary (I think), a "wing" of the Zhouyi: "Situations quantitatively dominated by receptivity or subservience [those exemplified by Yin trigrams], the responsiveness that brings things to completion, may nonetheless holistically function as active and creative [Yang], as actively initiating new existences." The point is, I think, that Yang works because Yin provides the 'space' for it to do so. Yin calls forth Yang. Thus, Yang transforms in the presence of Yin.

Keeping this in mind, we might profitably revisit that pivotal passage in the Inner Chapters of the Zhuangzi where "fasting of the heart/mind" is described as "listening with qi". Qi, we are told is "an emptiness, a waiting for the presence of beings." (4:9) (Qi can and does mean many things throughout Chinese philosophy, but we need only concern ourselves at the moment with what it means for Zhuangzi here, namely "emptiness".) And this, it seems to me, corresponds to Yin. Thus, we can say, find the Yin within.

Nearly all, if not all, of our human activity, being human, can be described as Yang. This is exercising our existence as beings, and can hardly be dismissed as unnecessary or misguided. But there is, as we all know, a hollowness, an emptiness, at the heart of us all. We require a grounding and assurances, that are not forthcoming. Rather than casting about for definitive stand-ins for these in the form of 'answers' (God, Universal Self, The Ground of Being, etc.), Zhuangzi suggests we make use of the emptiness itself. To do so, the passage goes on to tell us, is to allow the rug to be pulled out from under our most precious 'possession', or sense of being a self. It is to allow that our self "has yet to begin to exist". It's trying, but it cannot. It cannot because our Yang is embedded in Yin; it is always a becoming and is never an 'is'. Taking this onboard, living this, we wander.

The context of this passage, it is important to remember, concerns how to affect political reform. "Taking the mind as one's teacher", forging ahead as Yang, will be of little use, and may even get us killed. Reconnecting with one's inner Yin, on the other hand, allows one to follow along with the target Yang as the Yin necessary to allow it to change. Zhuangzi suggests we be qi/emptiness/Yin to the Yang we wish to see transformed, just as finding our own has transformed us. The point is to be that 'space' that invites change, not another 'being' wishing to displace another 'being'.

You can check out Scott's other miscellaneous writings here.

Ziporyn on Yin-Yang VII: Is Broken the Norm?

Scott Bradley

Following Ziporyn, I have described a Yin line as "broken" and a Yang line as "unbroken". Does this show a bias toward Yin? From a purely semantic standpoint, I think it does. "Broken" is the positive norm; "unbroken" is derivative. This is, no doubt, coincidental to our language; we could probably use other words that reverse the bias (contiguous/incontiguous?). Still, I think this does direct us to a realization of the priority of Yin, the broken.

Something from Chen Jen comes to mind: "Heal the sick, though they shall surely die in the end; fix the broken, though it shall surely be broken again." And, we might add, they will stay that way. Looking at the material history of humanity, we see in its detritus how the broken is the quantitative norm, just as death is the qualitative norm.

I made mention in an earlier post of Ziporyn's apparent (for I do not recall him having addressed this) bias toward the ironic when he frames his discussion by speaking of non-ironic coherence in relation to ironic coherence (knowable harmony versus unknowable harmony) in his Ironies of Oneness and Difference. Even that coherence which pre-dates the ironic tradition of Laozi and Zhuangzi is described, anachronistically, as non-ironic. Again, this may be an accident of language, but I suggested then that it points to what seems an unavoidable fact — Yin rules.

Not only does shit happen, but in the final analysis, only shit happens. But we needn't put this in such negative terms. We might alternatively say that everything returns to the Source. That "Source", however, is utterly unknowable and offers no guarantees regarding the fulfillment of our aspirations. This is the "Obvious"; how we choose to respond is what all this blabber is about.

Returning to the words of Chen Jen, it should not be overlooked that he exhorts us to "heal the sick" and "fix the broken" despite seemingly negative ultimate outcomes. This is the assertion of Yang, the positive fulfillment of the life experience. Were Yin to negate Yang, this would be to fall into despair, the ultimate disharmony. Without Yang there is no Yin; without Yin there is no Yang; our desires define Yin. The point is to do our Yang-ing in the context of the priority on Yin, and that is making the best of what on the surface (let's face it) appears to be other than we would prefer things to be.

You can check out Scott's other miscellaneous writings here.

Ziporyn on Yin-Yang VI: One Plus Words Makes Two

Scott Bradley

So far, we've seen the Yin lines (broken) and Yang lines (unbroken) together as representing No and Yes respectively. Next they are combined to make four possible dyadic combinations, and this introduces a structural representation of temporal transition; nothing is quite so simple as Yes/No, Right/Wrong, or Fortunate/Unfortunate.

Next come the trigrams, the combining of three lines, resulting in eight possible combinations. After this, come the hexagrams, the combing of the trigrams into sixty-four possible six line combinations. "Going on from here," Zhuangzi might say, "even a master mathematician would get lost." Personally, I get lost at eight, by which I mean, not only are the meanings of the various permutations beyond my ability to comprehend, but more importantly, interpretations at this point begin to tend suspiciously toward the quasi-"spiritual", or as I like to say, they descend into the realm of hocus-pocus. I learned my lesson in the four dyads: Things get too complicated to "know" real fast.

Still, there's much of interest and value in the whole, for those willing to spend their time with it. Regarding the eight trigrams, one curiosity is in their interpretive groupings. There is, of course, the pure Yang (three Yangs=Father) and the pure Yin (three Yins=Mother), but then there are the "children"; of the six remaining, the three "Yang" trigrams are the "sons", and the three "Yin" trigrams are the "daughters". What's curious is that two Yins and one Yang make a "Yang trigram", while two Yangs and one Yin make a "Yin trigram". Thus, the minority element defines the whole. Why is this so?

Ziporyn explains this as exemplifying the socio-politically representative character of the trigrams themselves. Their socially qualitative character takes precedence over the quantitative. One Yang rules over two Yins, whatever their arrangement, and this is as it should be. Two Yangs ruling over one Yin is decidedly disharmonious and inauspicious, and is thus Yin. The bias is decidedly for the Yang. (Daughters are inauspicious and sons auspicious, and however much one may attempt to abstract this deep-rooted philosophical sentiment from actual sons and daughters, it is difficult to see how it does not affect real-world behavior.)

Here we begin to get sucked into the essential Confucian conservatism. The hierarchical, pyramidal status quo is mandated by Heaven and since harmony is the good, taking one's place in that structure, however benighted one's circumstances might be, is the harmonious thing to do. (Admittedly, Confucianism does allow for regime-change if the current Emperor is not delivering harmony, but one Emperor is just swapped for another.)

Still, there are other (more beneficial) ways in which these interpretations might inform our practical living. We might consider, for example, how two Yangs and one Yin might speak to how being of “two minds” is harmful. The reader might explore further, if so inclined.

You can check out Scott's other miscellaneous writings here.

Ziporyn on Yin-Yang V: Nothing Lasts

Scott Bradley

The Yin-Yang paradigm is applicable in absolutely every conceivable context. I have been mostly using it in contrasting existence to non-existence, suggesting that to live is to Yang, and to be dead is to Yin (though a verbal Yin seems an unlikely possibility, as is the possibility of "being dead" — is anyone ever there to be dead?). This is simply the application of the Being (Yang) versus Non-Being (Yin) paradigm, the penultimate contrast possible, but certainly not the final word on Reality, a word that must always escape us. (Might we not say that the ultimate contrast is between coherence (intelligibility) and incoherence (unintelligibility)?) But we are forever Yin-ing and Yang-ing, giving and taking, asserting and yielding, living and dying.

Our favorite coat is Yin-ing and Yang-ing; our beloved cat in Yin-ing and Yang-ing (mine Yin-ed years ago); nothing lasts for long. Thus, just as we are well advised to embed our sense of Yang-ing (life) in the context of Yin (death), so too are we encouraged in our relationship to things to hold them loosely. To imbue them with a sense of non-transience is to become dependent on them.

When a "thing" is seen as Yang without Yin, we are "thing-ed by things"; the moment we make of any thing or any idea something fixed, we fix ourselves. To be fixed is to be poised to break, to be disappointed, to depend on the undependable. To depend on nothing (by depending on everything without dependence) is to "not be thing-ed by things".

It is not only our selves that are best enjoyed when unfixed, but also when everything is understood as such.

You can check out Scott's other miscellaneous writings here.

Ziporyn on Yin-Yang IV: Cyclic Transformation

Scott Bradley

Combining the lines of Yin (broken) and Yang (unbroken) into pairs, we have cyclic transition in a structural form. Two Yangs, representing maturity, corresponds to summer, and has been called "Old Yang". This transforms into a Yin over Yang (a Yang to Yin transition; reading up), corresponds to autumn, and is called "Young Yin". Two Yins corresponds to winter, the time of death and dormancy, and is called "Old Yin". This transforms into Yang over Yin (a Yin to Yang transition), corresponds to Spring, and is called "New Yang". Such is life . . . and death; the cyclic nature of existence.

Zhuangzi's philosophical Daoism suggests our present Yang-ing will be disharmonious when we don't take into account its emergence from and return to Yin. He calls this "seeing life and death as a single thread". This entails no guarantee of the perpetuation of a specific identity, and thus he recommends the surrender of a fixed-identity, something we fear to lose, into no-fixed-identity, something that we enjoy and use, but do not grasp and allow to morph even in the temporal sphere ("now a horse, now a cow").

How do we do this? Ah, well, there's the rub. Is it experienced as some form of enlightenment — something that happens to us — as might seem to be the case with Ziqi, who entered a trance and lost his "me", or Yan Hui who, after practicing "fasting of the heart-mind" (becoming empty), realized 'he' "had not yet begun to exist"? Or is it through the contemplation of our existential circumstance ("The Illumination of the Obvious") whereby we gradually transform our life-interpretive paradigm? Perhaps the latter also leads to the former. Or perhaps nothing of the sort can (or is likely to) occur in either case. Entertaining that possibility, are we not well advised to engage in either as an end in itself? Perhaps that's the real point after all — to enjoy the process, whatever one we choose. Then "success" would be of no great importance.

I close with the great heresy, but one with which I believe Zhuangzi would enthusiastically concur: None of it matters in any ultimate sense. All is well. Rejoice and be glad.

You can check out Scott's other miscellaneous writings here.

Ziporyn on Yin-Yang III: A Nod to Transformation

Scott Bradley

The Zhouyi (Book of Changes) has its roots in ancient attempts at prognostication, but we need not subscribe to any superstitious hocus-pocus to discover helpful insights within it. What it can provide is a structural means by which to understand the dynamics of change so as to make better informed decisions which do affect our future. According to Ziporyn, the original two lines, the unbroken (Yang/Yes) and the broken (Yin/No), rendered a Yes/No answer to questions posed about the future. "Will my endeavor succeed?" With the combining of these two lines, this developed into a structural representation of the more dynamic character of events. Rather than a straight-forward Yes/No, the answer might be "possibly yes, but" or "possibly no, but."

The first level of combining the lines is in pairs, of which there are four possibilities: Two Yangs is Yes. Two Yins is No. A Yin over a Yang is a Yang-to-Yin transition. A Yang over Yin is a Yin-to-Yang transition. In answer to the question whether my endeavor will succeed, disregarding any attempts to predict the future through the chance occurrence of one of these four, I might instead consider my decision in the light of all four. Success might lead to a larger failure (Yang-to-Yin). I may win the contract, but then my competitors will unite to destroy my company. Or it may not succeed, but this will enable a still greater success (Yin-to-Yang). I may lose the contract, but being uncommitted, be able to obtain a much better one.

We can see then how such a structural representation of the dynamics of transformation can open us up to a more dynamic interface with our being in time. Yet this is, from the Daoist point of view, still largely Yang-ish (seeking to know) if unaccompanied by, and indeed not subsumed under Yin, in this case understood as not-knowing, or more simply, Doubt. We do not know what will happen. We apply our understanding to our decision making to the fullest extent possible — and then "hand it all over to the unavoidable", namely, what actually happens. And whatever happens is ultimately of no great consequence since we have hid the world in the world so that nothing can get lost. This is the value of the non-value Yin, the usefulness of the useless, the empty space (window) that fills the room with light, the hole at the center that makes the wheel work.

There is the old Chinese parable of the farmer who lost his horse and his neighbors who said, Bad fortune! He replied, Who knows? The horse returned with several friends. Good fortune! Who knows? His son was thrown from one and badly injured. Bad fortune! Who knows? The military came to draft new cannon-fodder and his son was passed over. Good fortune! Who knows? And so it goes. This demonstrates the truly unpredictable nature of the unfolding of events and suggests an attitude of non-attachment to any particular outcome. But still the farmer and his neighbors seem to believe that there is 'good' and 'bad' fortune, despite our inability to know which is which. And although philosophical Daoism would concur that such is the case on one level, it also suggests another sense in which there is no such distinction at all. This is the view from Dao.

You can check out Scott's other miscellaneous writings here.

Ziporyn on Yin-Yang II: Who Was on Top?

Scott Bradley

It might be remembered from our discussion on the Laozi that at least one version previous to our received version was clearly more favorably disposed to the Confucian virtues and might be said to have evinced a form of "pre-ironic proto-Daoism". The irony of philosophical Daoism consists in its prioritization of Mystery — it suggests a way to most happily live as honestly admitting that life does not admit to any fixed and sure explanations. Its knowing is not-knowing; its dao is not-Dao.

We find a similar, but opposite, reversal of priority in the hexagrams of the Zhouyi (The Book of Changes). The present edition begins with the six unbroken lines of Yang; this is call Qian, and represents pure Yang, Heaven. Ziporyn points out that both tradition and archeology tell us that there was a much older version in which the first hexagram was the six broken lines of Yin; this is called Kun, and represents pure Yin, Earth.

This reversal of priority might, Ziporyn suggests, have been a conscious attempt to counter the influence of the ironic tradition "which places the source of all being in the hyper-motherliness of Dao, a la Laozi."

Archeology reveals that the earliest religious expressions focused on the mystery of our emergence from nowhere as represented by images of the pregnant female. Primitive humanity was in awe of the Mysterious Female, the Earth-Mother, just like Laozi. But then God showed up, and he explained it, told us that he Yang-ed it all, and we should follow his example and go into all the earth and Yang it all up. And we have.

Yang is not evil, needless to say. We are Yang. Existence is Yang. But existence arises from and returns to non-existence, Yin. The most honest and fulfilling way to live our Yang is thus in the context of our embedding in Yin. Shenzi, who suggested we be as passive as a rock, might be said to have gone overboard on Yin. Most conceptions of God make of him pure Yang and thus leave us with nothing else. The Yin-Yang construct addresses the need for balance. Philosophical Daoism suggests the most authentic and fulfilling way to do our Yang-ing, that is our living, is as informed by Yin, and this helps us avoid Yang-ing everything — ourselves, others, and the very Earth — up.

You can check out Scott's other miscellaneous writings here.

Ziporyn on Yin-Yang I: Who's on Top?

Scott Bradley

Yin-Yang is a philosophical construct to which I make occasional reference, but have failed to explore in any depth. Speaking of one of the "Wings" (the Shuogua commentary) to the Book of Changes, the core of the Yin-Yang development, Legge calls it "silliness" and "drivel". I admit that I would like to take refuge in his dismissal, but Ziporyn (Ironies of Oneness and Difference) demonstrates not only how important "The Yin-Yang Compromise" (his chapter heading on the subject) is to understanding the course of Chinese philosophical development, but also to illuminating some of the implications of the ironic Dao of Daoism.

Ziporyn begins by dispelling some of our (Western) superficial understandings about Yin-Yang. Perhaps most important among these is the belief that they are co-equal; they are not. One is inevitably prioritized over the other. This is probably in part due to the fact that they are not intended to summarize the ultimate coherence of Reality, but only to point in that direction. They are not the final word, but are seen as a means to approach that coherence.

So, who gets to be on top, Yin (the "female") or Yang (the "male")? Not surprisingly, in the Book of Changes and subsequent philosophical adaptations, it is Yang. Yang (represented by a solid line) is Heaven or father. Yin (represented by a broken line) is Earth or mother. Yang on top (a tri- or hexagram assembly of Yin-Yang lines is read from the bottom up) is most auspicious. (Yet, the cognitive versatility of the images also allows for auspicious Yin on top.)

Staying with this imagery (which has, I hope, materialized in your mind), we can allow that a good tumble may involve a high degree of shuffling of relative positions; this is the interplay of Yin and Yang, the one merging into and transforming the other, so that the Yang that was is not the Yang that is — yet it remains Yang still. (As does Yin.) In our contingent world, Yin and Yang are mutually dependent and define each other, and on this level appear as if co-equal, but the final bias is toward Yang.

The prioritization of Yang can be seen as an insistence on the ultimate intelligibility of Reality. Yang is knowing, initiating, doing. Yin is not-knowing, letting things happen, not-doing. Yang is making one's mark, being somebody. Yin is attaching to no 'merit', being no one. We can see then how the ironic Dao of Daoism with its advocacy of Yin prioritization was incorporated into a Yin-Yang system where it is given its due, yet at the end of the day Yang is made to come out on top.

A parallel might be drawn here with Jesus, who in some respects was very much an advocate for Yin ("Blessed are the meek . . ., etc.), yet this being found incompatible with the acquisition of worldly power (Christianity became the Roman Empire and many believe it to now be the American Empire), was reworked into a warrior King. Thus, we have American fighter pilots praising God for protection as they drop bombs on the innocent.

You can check out Scott's other miscellaneous writings here.