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Pacific
Rim Report No.
29, November 2003
Nourishing the
Spirit:
The Search for Meaning in Contemporary China
by with Lizhu Fan, Evelyn Eaton Whitehead, and James D. Whitehead
In 1999 the Ricci Institute for Chinese-Western Cultural History at
the Center for the Pacific Rim, University of San Francisco, inaugurated
an on-going cross-disciplinary initiative—“Nourishing the
Spirit: Social Change and Spiritual Development in China Today.” Complementing
the Ricci Institute’s continuing support of research on the historical
interactions of China with Christianity, this new initiative explores
the contemporary resources that Chinese people find to support their
spiritual search in this time of profound personal and social dislocation.  Sociologist
Lizhu Fan of Fudan University in Shanghai, a Fellow of the Ricci
Institute’s
EDS-Stewart Chair, has studied the shape of this spiritual hunger
and the sources of spiritual nourishment in contemporary Shenzhen.
Through a series of in-depth interviews she examined the resurgence
of spiritual beliefs and practices among the commercial workers
and small business owners who make up this city’s emerging
middle-class.
 Two Distinguished Fellows of the Ricci Institute’s EDS-Stewart
Chair—historian of
religion James D. Whitehead and social psychologist Evelyn
Eaton Whitehead—are working closely with Dr. Fan in the work of analysis
and interpretation of her research. They offer here an overview of
the initial
findings of this joint effort.
We gratefully acknowledge
the EDS-Stewart Chair for Chinese-Western Cultural History at
the USF Ricci Institute and the Kiriyama Chair for Pacific Rim
Studies at the USF Center for the Pacific Rim for funding this
issue of
Pacific Rim Report.
Spiritual
Needs, Spiritual Nourishment in Shenzhen
James D. Whitehead
and Evelyn Eaton Whitehead
Ricci Institute, University of San Francisco, USA The city
of Shenzhen, an hour’s train ride from Hong Kong, was
not long ago a sleepy fishing village. In 1979 as part of his
program of Reform and Opening, Deng Xiaoping declared this
village and a vast track of surrounding territory as a special
economic zone. With generous tax incentives in place for foreign
investment, the city has exploded into a rough-edged metropolis
of seven million, of whom several million are temporary workers
or ‘floating residents’ who work various jobs without
the benefits of legal residency.
First-time visitors are often bewildered by the pace and energy
of Shenzhen. But what appears to many foreigners as lawlessness
and disorder, appeals to workers here as opportunity.
Ian Buruma captures these contrasts: “The atmosphere is
young and brash. A raw, even primitive, vitality—life reduced
to food, sex and money flows through these new streets like a
muddy river.” But, Baruma continues, “For many young
Chinese that is precisely its attraction. To be relieved of the
burdens of home, history, and tradition is a form of liberation.
Opportunities await at the frontiers of the wild south—
opportunities to make money, but also to carve out a modicum
of personal freedom.”[1]
In many ways the city of Shenzhen is unique in China: more than
90% of its inhabitants were born elsewhere; the average age of
current
residents is less than thirty years. Social and
psychological forces here differ dramatically from those that
still prevail in the interior regions where most Chinese live.
The speed of change in Shenzhen has outpaced even the rapidly
modernizing urban metropolises along China’s
eastern coast.
But while this free economic zone is not typical of China today,
it may hold significant clues to this country’s future.
With the dynamics of globalization cast here in such sharp relief,
Shenzhen presents a compelling site for examining the impact
of social change on spiritual
consciousness.
The Shekou Incident
In January of 1988 two Chinese political representatives arrived
in the Shekou district of the burgeoning new free economic zone
of Shenzhen. Sponsored by the Communist League, they came to
lecture an assembly of young workers, all recent migrants to
Shenzhen from towns and villages throughout China. Their instruction
carried a familiar message: the revolutionary ideals of party
and state must continue to guide the Chinese worker. The lecture
was routine, but the response it generated was not.
In the midst of the instruction, a young worker arose in protest.
In tone and terms that were startlingly direct, he challenged
their message as empty propaganda, words that no longer carried
weight in Shenzhen. “We have come to Shenzhen to make money,” he
boldly asserted. Here workers do not need to depend on the state-controlled
work unit (danwei 單�) for their jobs. Here workers are
able to find employment on their own; fired from a factory one
day, a laborer can easily find work by the next. In this exploding
economic arena, he announced, party ideals and government directives
are irrelevant. And the gathered workers cheered his audacious
announcement.
Reports of this act of public defiance—the ‘Shekou
Incident’—spread quickly. The workers in this economic
free zone were embarked on a new adventure. The laissez-faire
atmosphere of Shenzhen’s economic frontier offered job
options that released them from dependence on the all-providing,
all-controlling institution of the
danwei.
Opportunities for individual choice quickly expanded beyond the
economic realm. With the wider range of options came an increased
awareness of personal responsibility. Where to live, what life-style
to pursue, what values to adopt—now these decisions had
to be made on one’s own. Among these industrial migrants—no
longer embedded in the values of family and
village life, no longer limited by the directives of the work
unit—a taste of personal responsibility developed into
an appetite for personal freedom. And, in ways that contradicted
predictions of both Marxist orthodoxy and western secularization
theory, this expanding economic freedom released spiritual hungers
as well.
The Spiritual Search in Shenzhen
The metropolis of Shenzhen boasts new and refurbished worship
sites of each of the five religions officially recognized by
Chinese law—Taoism, Buddhism, Islam, Protestant and Catholic
Christianity. And while accurate numbers are difficult to determine,
membership in these registered religious groups is on the rise
here as well as elsewhere throughout mainland China. But our
research reveals another dynamic of Chinese modernization. Confronted
by new questions of meaning and purpose, these respondents did
not turn to the now-approved religious institutions of Buddhism
or Christianity. Instead they gave very personal expression to
their
spiritual search, in the age-old idiom of China’s common
spiritual heritage.
This tradition, often dismissed by scholars as ‘folk
religion’ or ‘popular
belief’, has long been overlooked and undervalued. Even
as the Chinese government softened its view of the legally recognized
institutional religions such as Buddhism and Christianity, the
customary beliefs and practices of ordinary Chinese were still
considered ‘feudal superstition’ and—as such—without
legal status.[2] Significantly, it is this lack of government
recognition and control that makes these spiritual practices
attractive to many in Shenzhen.
China’s Common Spiritual Heritage
Scholars today are cautious about using
the abstract term ‘religion’ to describe China’s
spiritual heritage. The translated term
(zongjiao å®—æ•™), first introduced in China only in the
1890s, is essentially a western concept grafted onto Chinese
experience. In both English and Chinese, the word continues
to imply elements that are foreign to Chinese sensibilities:
a sharp dichotomy between sacred and secular, formal and exclusive
group membership, the central role of a distinct group of professionally
trained leaders, heightened concern for orthodoxy in belief
and practice.
Responding to these western connotations, many early observers
insisted that China had no religion. Later scholars both in China
and the west distinguished sharply between the multiple ‘superstitious’ beliefs
adhered to by the masses and the ‘great traditions’ of
Confucianism, Buddhism, and Taoism. Researchers today speak more
appreciatively of the spiritual significance of China’s
local traditions. Recently Daniel Overmyer reviewed over fifty
books on Chinese popular religion written since 1990 by Chinese
scholars. In nearly all these works a surprisingly positive tone
has replaced the more conventional view of local practices and
beliefs as mere superstition. He concludes, “What we see
here is not only a new direction in scholarship, but also a great
and historic culture finally trying to recognize and come to
terms with the religious traditions of the great majority of
its people.”[3]
We have adopted the phrase ‘common spiritual heritage’ to
characterize these cultural resources. This spiritual heritage
is centered in the family and pivots on a recognition of the
vital energy of (qi æ°£) animating all reality. Its beliefs and
practices, as Overmyer explains, are rooted in a particular vision: “the
world itself is a sacred place of power and mystery and…to
human beings belongs the important task of cooperating with this
power and making it operative in society.” And, in a significant
departure from the religious sensitivity of the west, “what
we call the sacred and profane are here blended together.”[4]
In China, this common spiritual heritage exists symbiotically
with the more institutionalized traditions of Confucianism, Buddhism,
and Taoism. John Lagerwey helps clarify what is for the western
observer a mystifying relationship: “While
the intellectual observer—or even the local participant—may
be able to distinguish Confucian, Buddhist, Taoist, or mediumistic
features of local religion, in local society
these are all aspects of the larger whole… Local society seems always and everywhere
to contain all four ritual traditions.”[5]
The common spiritual tradition has developed with no need to
create its own distinct
rituals, elaborate doctrines, or full-time professional leaders
such as monks or priests. As the occasion arises, Chinese will
borrow beliefs and ceremonies originally developed within the ‘great
traditions’, adopting these to suit local conditions. And
when the religious texts or
rituals associated with Taoism or Confucianism or Buddhism “enter
the gravitational field of (local) religion, their meanings are
changed to fit what the people need.”[6]
The people in Shenzhen today vividly illustrate this interpenetration
of traditions, as they prepare home altars incorporating Taoist
symbols and adapt Buddhist ceremonies for use in their communal
devotions. But rather than simply a nostalgic return to familiar
practices of the past, the modern residents are undertaking a
personal re-appropriation of these spiritual resources. In their
beliefs and practices today, the cultural heritage of Chinese
spirituality is being both actively and selectively embraced.
Social Change and Personal Responsibility
Among Dr. Fan’s respondents, economic opportunities provoked
changes in consciousness. Unprecedented experiences of individual
choice generated new awareness of personal responsibility.
But while this link between economic transformation and spiritual
opportunity was new to the people of Shenzhen, it has been a
recurrent pattern in China’s history. In her instructive
analysis of the moral handbooks of 17th century China, historian
Cynthia Brokaw observes that these immensely popular works served “as
guidelines for proper (and profitable) behavior during a time
of high mobility, shifting values and uncertain beliefs.” Brokaw
further elaborates the impact of economic upheavals of that time,
citing “the extraordinary moral pressures their expanded
sense of human control created for the individual. If the belief
that a man could create his own moral and material fate gave
the individual a power and a freedom he had not possessed before,
it imposed as well a crushing responsibility.”[7]
Brokaw could be describing the scene in contemporary Shenzhen.
For many whom Dr. Fan interviewed, heighted awareness of personal
responsibility raised questions they experienced as entirely
new: Is there a plot or purpose that guides my life? Does my
experience have larger significance or meaning? In an effort
to make sense of the new
direction of their lives, her respondents found support in deeply
traditional notions of‘destiny’ (mingyun 命é?‹)
and ‘coincidence’
(yuanfen 緣分).
Fate: Fixed and Flexible
Mr. Zhou worked as a teacher before moving to Shenzhen.
Initially he found only menial jobs available. Three years later he had saved
enough to start his own small printing business, producing mailing envelopes,
deposit slips and receipt books. The business grew rapidly, in pace with
Shenzhen’s
expanding economy. To his surprise, Mr. Zhou found himself suddenly wealthy,
able to purchase a new home and even a private automobile. Mr.
Zhou recalls years of poverty and struggle during which he was untroubled
by larger questions of meaning or purpose. Only recently has he begun to
wonder about his life: Why me? Why has this good fortune been his, while
others—equally
hardworking—continues to struggle with little success? Now for the
first time, Mr. Zhou reports, he must confront the question of his own
destiny: perhaps some unrecognized power or unseen force favors him, guiding
his fate. If so, what responsibility is his? What must he do to respond
to this good fortune? Mrs.
Wang was born in Tianjin just prior to the Cultural Revolution. Neither her
family upbringing nor her formal education exposed her to religious beliefs
or practices. As an adult, after a series of crises and setbacks, Mrs. Wang
took a job at an accounting firm in Shenzhen. She was frequently promoted
and soon reached a senior position with a very good salary. This financial
success prompted questions similar to Mr. Zhou’s. Why has her life
turned out this way? What is the purpose of making money? What does life
ask of her now?
The Chinese term mingyun describes fate as both fixed and flexible. Fixed:
one’s destiny originates beyond the individual in the ‘command
(ming) of heaven’. Yet flexible: it is also shaped by the
particular ‘movements
(yun)’ of an individual’s life. Each person’s
journey is shaped by genetic inheritance and family background that lie outside
personal control. And yet within this fixed pattern, Chinese wisdom recognizes
that all is not simply ‘given’. It is the life-long discipline
of self-cultivation that prepares one to embrace the opportunities that arise
in and alter the course of a life. Echoing this insight, a respondent remarked, “in
Shenzhen I have learned that we must grasp our fate.”
Prior to their arrival in Shenzhen, many respondents had inhabited a
world circumscribed by the danwei. This work unit not only determined
their current salary, housing and health care, but kept possession
of the personal files without which job change, travel, and further
education were not possible. Such an environment co-opted all questioning.
There was neither need nor opportunity to wonder about personal destiny.
Options were limited; fate seemed fully fixed. But in this new urban
setting, with its freedom and despite its chaos, these workers cross
the threshold of a new level of consciousness. Questions of meaning
and purpose provoke wonder about personal responsibility and determination
to cultivate their lives. In the midst of social and economic dislocation,
they begin to grasp their fate.
Fate fixed and flexible has been an honored and constant theme
throughout Chinese history. The influential ancient Confucian
text, Doctrine of the Mean, made a sharp distinction between
the mature person who ‘lives peacefully and
at ease, awaiting his fate’, and the immature individual who ‘follows
dangerous courses and hopes for good luck’.[8] The great Confucian
philosopher Mencius likewise invoked this call to ‘await one’s
fate’,
but also emphasized the continual self-cultivation that would allow a
person actively to ‘establish his fate’.[9] Mencius added
that while pursuing one’s destiny it was wise to avoid tempting
fate by standing next to a wall about to collapse.[10]
Fateful Coincidence
In every life, apparently chance events give distinct direction to
one’s
fate—meeting the person one later marries, or losing a job only to find
a better position. Reflecting on their experiences in Shenzhen, Dr. Fan’s
respondents referred often to such fateful coincidences (yuanfen), those unplanned
occurrences that decisively influenced the eventual shape of their lives.
Mrs. Wang’s early dream to study abroad was dashed when her belongings–including
her money, visa and airplane ticket–were stolen. This chance
event forced a change in plans; now without funds, she risked moving
to Shenzhen where she had heard jobs were plentiful. And in Shenzhen
fate has favored her. In retrospect, Mrs. Wang now sees this event
as more than mere chance. The earlier apparent misfortune became
a positive turning point in her life.
Mr. Zhou notes the intervention of a similar event: the abrupt failure
of a youthful romance motivated him to leave his home village. Mysteriously,
this early loss contributed to his present good fortune. Surely,
Mr. Zhou insists, more than chance was involved in this experience
of yuanfen.
While destiny (mingyun) has its deepest roots in the Confucian understanding
of ‘heaven’s will’ (tianming), coincidence (yuanfen)
is more intimately linked to the Buddhist worldview. Buddhist understandings
of karma describe a moral universe in which apparently chance events
are the residue of moral actions in the past. In such a world there
are no chance events.
While destiny (mingyun) has its deepest roots in the Confucian understanding
of ‘heaven’s will’ (tianming), coincidence (yuanfen) is more intimately
linked to the Buddhist worldview. Buddhist understandings of karma describe a moral universe in which apparently chance events are the
residue of moral actions in the past. In such a world there are no
chance events.
These traditional notions of destiny and coincidence helped Dr. Fan’s
respondents, all persons with little previous religious experience,
enter into a deeper reflection on their lives. Rooted in Chinese
daily life and ordinary consciousness, these familiar resources served
as thresholds to a richer spiritual appreciation.
Cross-cultural Differences
Western consciousness carries the conviction that adults are masters
of their fate. Unexpected events and mysterious coincidences challenge
this cultural bias. For westerners, this challenge can evoke a spiritual
response of receptivity—greater
openness to dimensions of life that lie beyond autonomous personal control.
But Shenzhen residents responded differently. Long accustomed to
a dependence on their families and the government, they now reported
a heightened sense of personal agency. As they became more sensitive
to the dynamics of
personal destiny, these urban migrants assumed greater responsibility
for the direction of their own lives.
Spiritual Practices in Shenzhen
In modern Shenzhen, as has been typical throughout much of China’s history,
most people do not join an established religious group or identify with the
doctrines of a single sect or master. Dr. Fan’s respondents gave personal
reasons to explain why. Some suspected that the officially registered religions
remain too close to the state, too susceptible to party control. Having only
recently escaped the all-encompassing control of the danwei, they resist affiliating
with another institution that seems to depend on government approval. As one
respondent asserted, “What I believe is nobody’s business but my
own.”
But most offered another perspective to explain their eclectic approach.
In the realm of spirit, as in much of the rest of their life in Shenzhen,
personal choice has become the standard. Shenzhen offers many options
for belief and practice. Bookstores abound with titles providing
alternative life perspective and moral advice. A steady stream of
Buddhist and Christian television and Internet programming arrives
from Taiwan, Korea, and North America. Local and international religious
entrepreneurs promote programs for health and healing and peace of
mind, even as state propaganda urges a return to now-discredited
communist ideals and values. And images and icons of western popular
culture flood the local media. Confronted by this vast array of possibilities,
Shenzhen residents need to—and want to—find for themselves the sources of
spiritual nourishment that are appropriate for their own circumstance and temperament.
Personal Practices
Ms. Shi is a news commentator at a local television station in Shenzhen.
Growing up in a revolutionary family, she had no direct experience
of religious practice. Now in her apartment in one of the modern
housing complexes that surround the city, she has set up a small
altar. A statue of Guanyin, the Buddhist goddess widely venerated
among Chinese, stands prominently here. Ms. Shi places fresh fruit
on the altar for a time, and then offers this as a gift to friends.
Her sense is that this fruit now carries with it special power that
will promote healing and a
peaceful heart. While Ms. Shi insists that
she is not a Buddhist, she finds the prayerful reading of Buddhist
texts to be especially consoling.
Ms. Shi admits to being embarrassed sometimes when she reflects on
these activities, since they include behaviors she herself earlier
identified as superstition. And she is reluctant to let her broadcasting
colleagues know of her practices, since many are communist party
members. But she embraces these activities as significant in her
life and necessary for her spiritual well-being.
In Shenzhen, some people’s practice involves simply the regular repetition
of prayer formulas. Others seek deeper understanding by reading texts or commentaries
on religious classics (Taoist tales, Buddhist sutras, the Christian bible)
or morally up-lifting contemporary books.
Several respondents listed personal honesty as a chosen spiritual
practice. In Shenzhen the dynamics of unfettered capitalism generate
momentum for graft and greed. For some here, a new sensitivity to
traditional themes of moral reciprocity (baoying å ±æ‡‰) prompts different
behavior. That the universe is essentially moral, that both good
actions and bad have enduring significance, that personal rectitude
contributes to improving the world—these convictions
support a more exacting commitment to fairness and honesty in their
business dealings.
Communal Practices
While most resist formal identification with any particular religious
institutions, many Shenzhen respondents assemble regularly with fellow
searchers. These gatherings function as a loosely organized network,
more than a formally constituted membership group. Vegetarian restaurants
are frequent settings for these gatherings.
One example: a small storefront restaurant nestled in a downtown
high-rise building comfortably accommodates perhaps thirty people
at its several round tables. Open to the general public, the restaurant
welcomes passers-by along with more regular customers. A video screen
at one end of the room continuously displays a series of calming
nature scenes, interspersed with brief readings and recitations from
inspirational texts. A small altar occupies one corner, and many
patrons stop on their way in or out of the shop to offer a gesture
of respect.
The restaurant was not established by a religious organization and
exists without benefit of outside investment. The owner, a lay man
with no formal religious training or membership, indicates that operating
this restaurant is part of his own spiritual practice. He regularly
purchases spiritual books, which he makes available freely to frequent
patrons and casual customers alike.
Several of Dr. Fan’s respondents gather here regularly to share a vegetarian
meal and to discuss details of their lives and insights from their spiritual
reading. Occasionally one of the regular participants will bring along a newcomer.
The motives for these gatherings seem to include a need for mutual support
and encouragement—both in life’s daily struggles and in spiritual
practice, a hunger to experience the sense of transcendence that comes from
the fellowship and the rituals that are frequently part of the group’s
gathering, and a desire to improve the world by spreading information about
spiritual awareness to others.
Social Practices
The loose network associated with this restaurant has adopted a
Buddhist ritual as part of
their wider social concern. Annually they
undertake a symbolic ‘freeing of animals’
(fangsheng 放生) to express and cultivate mercy and compassion
in the world. A monk from the nearby registered monastery is hired
to read the appropriate sutras and to guide the ritual activities
releasing the birds and small turtles from cages. But the ordinary
people are clearly the initiators and the hosts of this gathering.
These respondents often remarked on their heightened concern for
the plight of suffering people. Working in Shenzhen had brought them
increased material comfort and financial security. Now, in accord
with their new spiritual awareness, they make generous donations
to support people throughout China and even elsewhere whose lives
are disrupted by major disasters—drought, earthquakes, floods.
But there is little discussion of issues of social justice or action
for social change.
Many factors—personal and political—help explain this
apparent absence of a ‘prophetic’ response to injustice
among these spiritually sensitive persons. Dr. Fan points to China’s
cultural memory: through the centuries the moral dilemma for most
Chinese has not been ‘how should
I be just’ or ‘how can I make the world more just’.
Instead they faced the challenge: ‘how shall I live and find
peace in this unjust world’.
For many, this question has been resolved in part by looking beyond
the present injustice. In traditional Chinese understanding, experiencing
injustice and poverty came as one’s fate. But this understanding is not always fatalistic,
since a person can influence fate through moral actions. Present behavior has
impact beyond the present: through self-cultivation one can alter the current
situation and positively affect the future. Thus personal honesty and compassion
toward others become the route to social change.
Conclusion
The metropolis of Shenzhen, as we have said, is not a typical Chinese
city. Most residents, having left behind the network of extended
family, live without the economic and emotional safety-net these
relationships provide. They work outside the traditional structures
that still shape the labor of most people in China. Urban life confronts
them with new decisions, about work and leisure, about values and
goals. But while it is not typical, the Shenzhen experience may well
be predictive.
Evidence in Shenzhen shows that a political initiative meant primarily
as an economic reform does not easily stay within these bounds. Shifting
the boundaries of an economy alters the horizon of the spirit. Opening
a society to new styles of work also exposes it to new questions
of meaning and purpose.
To deal with these concerns, respondents in Shenzhen turn not to
state-recognized religious institutions, but to resources within
their common cultural heritage. They embrace these traditional resources
not as revival or regression, but as a means of moving forward. Rather
than simply repeating past patterns, they select particular beliefs
and practices that resonate with present experience. And in an authentic
spiritual response, they adapt these themes to their current circumstances.
Observers both Chinese and western have assumed that this common
spiritual heritage would not survive the dislocations of globalization.
But in this highly secular city, China’s spiritual tradition is being reaffirmed in the
lives of modern Chinese. The view from Shenzhen suggests that knowledge and
respect of this deep current in Chinese culture will be essential to understanding
social change and spiritual development in China’s future. The spiritual
practices in Shenzhen may also hold clues to the continuing inculturation of
Christianity in China.
ENDNOTES
1. Ian Buruma, Bad Elements: Chinese Rebels From Los
Angeles To Beijing (New
York: Random House, 2001), p. 250. [Return to Text]
2. Daniel Overmyer, “From ‘Feudal Superstition’ to ‘Popular
Religion’: New Directions in Mainland Chinese Studies of Popular Religion” in
Cahiers d’Extreme-Asie, no. 12 (2001), p.104. [Return
to Text]
3. Ibid., p.125. [Return to Text]
4. Daniel Overmyer, Religions of China (San Francisco: Harper & Row,
1986), pp. 7 and 13. [Return to Text]
5. John Lagerwey, “The Structure and Dynamics of Chinese Rural Society” (unpublished
manuscript),
p. 4. For Lagerwey’s and Overmyer’s comments on recent research
in Chinese popular religion see Ethnography in China
Today, edited by Daniel
Overmyer with the assistance of Shin-Yi Chao (Taipei: Yuan-Liou Publishers
Company, 2002). [Return to Text]
6. Daniel Overmyer, “Gods, Saints, Shamans, and Processions: Comparative
Religion From the Bottom Up” in Criterion, no. 34, Autumn 2002,
p. 7 (Chicago: Divinity School of the University of Chicago). [Return
to Text]
7. Cynthia Brokaw, The Ledgers of Merit and Demerit:
Social Change and Moral Order in Later Imperial China (Princeton, NJ:
Princeton University Press, 1991), pp. 3 and 119. [Return to
Text]
8. The Doctrine of the Mean, XIV:4. [Return to Text]
9. Mencius, VII:A1. [Return to Text]
10. Mencius, VII:A2. [Return to Text]
This paper expands an earlier discussion that appeared in the America
magazine, the Jesuit weekly journal of news and ideas, September 1, 2003. 我命在我�在天
“My
destiny is within me not in heaven.”
Ge Hong, 4th century Taoist author
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