GO WITH THE FLOW. Such, in a nutshell, is the philosophy of the ancient and venerable Chinese tradition of Taoism. It's a world-view which has always struck me as attractive. More to the point, it's not every day you get to hang around a neolithic cairn in the company of a Taoist master, writes Arminta Wallace.
So, when I was invited to spend a couple of hours at Loughcrew, Co Westmeath with Jeffrey Yuen, I didn’t so much go with the flow as jump right in.
I interviewed Dr Yuen when he first came to Ireland to teach acupuncture to practitioners of Chinese medicine. “He travels widely in the US, Europe and elsewhere,” runs his CV, “giving lectures and seminars on everything from nutrition and aromatherapy to Chinese medical fluid physiology and endocrine systems.” Much of this he learned from his grandfather, a Taoist monk who left China when his monastery was closed down during the Boxer rebellion, and who died in New York at the ripe old age of 109. Another tutor was Master Gong Song-Liu, “a eunuch and a herbalist for the last two emperors of the Ch’ing Dynasty”.
Inevitably, such references conjure up a mental picture of men in long, flowing robes with long, whip-like moustaches. In person, however, Jeffrey Yuen is about as unlike his CV as it’s possible to get. Tiny and totally unassuming with a slight New York accent, he looks like any other Chinese dude you might meet walking around in the Big Apple, or indeed in Dublin. Yet he manages to radiate something quite out of the ordinary. You could call it an aura, if you were so inclined. Actually it’s something more like – well, like generosity, if that doesn’t sound too strange.
On that first morning he spoke about the relationship between something he called “shen” – which translates as spirit, or perhaps faith – and the healing process. He began with a question. “Say you’re sick. What are you gonna do?” By the coffee break I had covered an A4 pad with notes, some gnomic – “digestion/more imp than nutrition” – some wryly comic. “In 11th-century China if you couldn’t make it as a politician, you became a doctor.”
By lunchtime I was writing on the cardboard bit at the back. “As we get older, we should get lighter . . .” Lighter and more flexible, I think he meant, rather than stuck in our ways and stiff as boards. But also in the sense of taking ourselves less seriously. Deflating a bubble of over-earnestness with one or two well-chosen words is, in fact, a typically Taoist strategy.
My first lesson in practical Taoism took place at Loughcrew. The day was, to put it mildly, less than clement. We crouched in the side cells of the structure known as Cairn T, listening to the rain batter against the domed roof. In the flickering light, the exquisite neolithic motifs carved into the stone walls seemed to whirl and spin.
As I climbed out of one cell and headed for another, I felt a slight but firm pressure on my shoulder. “Stay low,” Dr Yuen warned in a whisper. I looked up but could see nothing at all – just blackness.
"Why?" I whispered back. I recalled Dr Yuen's CV. "An 88th-generation Taoist master of the Jade Purity Yellow Emperor Lao Tzu school . . ." Which, by the way, is all the superstars of Taoism, right there in one sentence. Lao Tzu, author of the Tao Te Ching; the Yellow Emperor, whose name is synonymous with wisdom and compassion; jade purity, the most perfect form of enlightenment.
Wow. I decided Dr Yuen must have tuned into some prehistoric mystery in the cairn. What could he sense in these ancient stones that I could not? As I waited for his answer, I couldn’t see his face, but I swear I heard him smile in the darkness. “There are spiders,” was the whispered reply. Taoism in a nutshell, I realised – even as I had a sneaky feel around inside the hood of my rain jacket for unwanted arachnids.
In the car on the way back I asked Dr Yuen what he most likes to talk about, when he gives lectures.
"The spirituality behind the acupuncture points," he said. "How it connects. The poetry in the points." Insofar as he has a mission, this is it: to try to restore some of the broken connection between healing and spirituality. It is a topic which has huge appeal – and not just for acupuncturists. The good news is that when Dr Yuen comes to Dublin next week, to address a conference organised by the Academy of Classical Chinese Medicine, he will also give a public lecture. Entitled An Exploration of Taoism and its Significance in Modernity, it will take place at The Priory Institute in Tallaght, Dublin on September 11th at 7pm.
The institute runs adult education courses in theology, spirituality and philosophy, and has a fine tradition of openness, ecumenism and feminism. If there’s anything you’ve ever wanted to know about Chinese philosophy past, present or – with China poised to become the world’s number one economic power any day now – future, this would be the perfect time to go with the flow and ask. Admission is free, but if you’re thinking of going along, you might just call the priory in advance at 01-4048127 and register your name. That way, you’ll be able to answer the most Taoist question of all – will there be a chair for me to sit on? – all on your own.