Alchemy Without Tears
Whether qi-skeptical, qi-curious, or qi-frustrated, you don't need to focus on qi in Daoist neidan and traditional Chinese martial arts practices.
“I cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me. I cannot even explain it to myself.”
― Franz Kafka, The Metamorphosis
Kafka’s one of innumerable cultural giants whom perished without seeing a drop of deserved worldly success, let alone a crumb of the eventual massive cultural significance of their own work. It’s devastating that such individuals (Melville, Lovecraft, Jesus, Mozart, the Confederacy of Dunces guy) don’t get to lead at least a reasonably comfortable life, but instead eke out their time in poverty or illness, while later generations like ours freely harvest their souls for our own existential and other needs. And that’s only when works aren’t lost to anonymity or mis-attribution—such as when a person happens to be a woman during most eras of human civilization.
At the same time, it’s healthy—desirable—to never become culturally prominent within one’s own lifetime. Whether or not accolades are deserved, to become a heavy-handed icon with a following of sycophants is a path to personal derangement. Its onset is unnoticeable to the person experiencing it, their fame and self-importance gradually changing their sense of self. Look at anybody who suddenly becomes super wealthy or famous or simply highly attractive in their teens or younger decades: their values and priorities dramatically change, and in the major cases simply go kinda batty. It’s important for people with such a heavy social reach—as it is for all of us, as we might be losing it ourselves anyway—to devote themselves to practices that have no worldly value, and are kept away from the world or its praises, and which also do not depend upon having such things. It’s part of what Zhuangzi was instructing by avoiding fame and influence. Sitting-and-forgetting, baybee!
You’ve gotta wonder if Kafka wasn’t tuned into the same contemplative current as Zhuangzi, only whilst emphasizing beetles instead of butterflies.
When doing neijia, and neidan, the initial phase of practice is to properly learn fangsong or relaxation/unclenching of the body’s tension. There are layers to this process, and it occurs on its own in other meditation systems as well. But this skill of being able to consciously let go of conscious and unconscious tension is the powerful foundation for lifelong development. It is through this process of fangsong that the mind and breath are able to sink naturally down to the lower abdomen, gradually engaging the dantian. This must become a daily and default exercise, so that without any force, the mind and breath sink to the lower torso without any forceful effort. It’s necessary to feel this way throughout each session of practice, and perpetually through all future daily practice.
Doing this for a few years will gradually and naturally "awaken" the dantian, which will begin to move noticeably, first as brief partial sensations of it shifting, and over time with constant practice there is a clear sense of spherical motion (yes, really, it happens, and it’s not even a big deal). When the surges of turning sensations are clearer, the qi will then on its own begin moving throughout the body. This is also where I think some people get stuck, either by lack of practice, or by scattering their efforts in one or many wrong directions. It's a mistake to try and think about qi, or visualize it, or imagine it, or to do stuff like focus on meridians or points around the body—to feel it “actively” as “a thing you are doing”. Keep relinquishing, letting the mind awareness sink to the bottom of the torso.
The qi is not going to be explicitly moved by the mind, or else yi, the “mind intent”, until it is unmistakably a process and factor that is recognized as a bodily sensation, to where a developing “subtle body” awareness starts to emerge. The qi becomes active and enriched interdependently with a concentrated-yet-expansive awareness of the body, as well as the sense of space immediately around the body. Even if the qi circulation and so-termed orbits around the body are active and no longer just a “trickle”, the cognitive brain itself cannot focus upon any sole single point of it directly without obstructing the process (all vacuity is filled by one thought, or whatever).
When the qi is activated and tangible, the mind experiences a full, simultaneous awareness of the entire body and also its immediate surroundings.
Training in other kinds of meditation or martial arts or perhaps some other disciplines like live music and improvisational skills (jazz, Indian classical music) may be a good reference or similar experience here. As Ueshiba described the ideal state of mind to foster as a martial artist: “maintain total awareness without letting the mind dwell on any one particular thing in the surroundings and environment”. Many know the Zen saying, “think the thought that is not-thinking”. But it’s more than just non-thinking or “observer” meditation awareness, but a broad and lucid experience of the mind and the body and its immediate surroundings (physical, mental, and ???) while fully perceptive and actively attuned to it all.
To dial up to this awareness, at first try to remain simultaneously aware of two disparate but adjacent or respective places in the body or the traditional qi orbit meridians at once: the dantian but also the niwan, the huiyin but also the baihui, the jiaji but also the solar plexus, the bubbling well but also the wrists, the armpits and also the inner thighs. Instead of thinking about each single (or physical) place; instead of focusing on any area, be peripherally lightly aware of each location/sensation simultaneously. It is as though your mental and experiential awareness is a broad surface area of a lampshade casting down a large circumference of gentle light, as opposed to the impulsive type of conscious focus which is like a direct, dense flashlight beam of light targeting only one thing. The two areas of awareness are just both spots under the shade of awareness your mind casts softly around it, just as a broad tree canopy's can effortlessly contain multiple creatures within its shadowy shade.
Continually experimenting with this with two alternating, adjacent places around the body, it will seem like a normal expansion to become aware of the entire body, and increasingly subtle aspects in which it seems to exist outside the conventional biological senses. This light, sensitive mind awareness can observe the body and its immediate surrounding sensory (and not sensory?) phenomenon all at once, being in no one place to the exclusion of any other; recognition of the entire human apparatus and “experience” taking place. It's calibrating this type of bodily awareness which will then at some point begin to recognize the traditional Chinese martial arts qi process happening on its own, and suffusing the bodily experience as it deepens automatically from regular ongoing practice.
Practicing this kind of awareness should result in the mind becoming much more skilled at engaging and maintaining deeper states of concentration during seated meditation (Daoist or otherwise) as well. As a beginner to meditation, we scan the body actively, unravel tension, focus on posture, and so on in order to work our way towards this kind of concentration eventually. Gradually, safely the qi should suffuse the orbits of the body, and be a clear phenomenon as it does. But even if it doesn’t, this is a useful skillset for the martial arts, life in general, and Buddhist meditation traditions and practices.






