A Visit to Changchun Temple, Where I Missed the Taoist Physician

On October 27, 2019, I was in Wuhan, the City of Rivers.

That day was the closing ceremony of the Military World Games, and the city of Wuhan was immersed in the excitement brought by an international sporting event. As a Hubei native born and raised here, I was sincerely delighted by this grand gathering in our province.

Jingchu culture is a part of Chinese civilization and has played an important role many times in Chinese history. The idiom “Only Chu has talents” still inspires many people of Hubei to sharpen themselves and strive to become capable. That the provincial capital Wuhan had the opportunity to show its grace to the international community is a source of pride for the people of Hubei.

At around four in the afternoon on the 27th, after I had finished my business and still had some time left, and happened to be not far from Wuhan’s Changchun Temple, I decided to make a trip there to visit the Taoist physicians who practice there.

Unfortunately, a senior government leader happened to be visiting Changchun Temple at the same time and was in the abbot’s chamber talking with the temple’s leadership. The temple’s Daoist priests and some government staff were all busy with this.

So when I walked into Changchun Temple, although visitors were not barred from entering, I could not meet any of the Taoist physicians there. Several Daoist priests were busy entertaining the distinguished guests, and plainclothes security personnel stood guard at every important intersection. I therefore had no choice but to wander through Changchun Temple on my own.

Wuhan’s Changchun Temple is one of the sacred sites of the Quanzhen School of Daoism and was the Daoist altar of Qiu Chuji, one of the Seven Perfected of Quanzhen. Because it sits right in the city center, the incense here is strong. The Daoist priests in the temple wore neat, clean robes and carried themselves with elegance and dignity, which left a very good impression on me.

I am not very interested in religion, but Daoist philosophy is the essence of traditional Chinese medicine. Laozi’s idea of “reduce what is surplus, supplement what is insufficient” has the same exquisite purpose as the TCM theory of supporting zheng qi and expelling pathogen.

Among the outstanding physicians in the history of Chinese medicine, many were also Taoist physicians. Sun Simiao, the King of Medicines, and Ge Hong, whose work inspired Professor Tu Youyou to discover artemisinin, are both famous Taoist physicians. In Sun Simiao’s Qianjin Fang (Essential Prescriptions Worth a Thousand Gold), besides Chinese medical knowledge, there are also many Daoist talismans and zhuyou (incantation therapy) techniques.

Li Shizhen, author of the Bencao Gangmu (Compendium of Materia Medica), had a father named Li Yuechi who long practiced medicine at a Daoist temple called “Xuanmiao Temple”. Not far from Li Shizhen’s hometown, where he lived in seclusion while writing, Xuanmiao Temple still stands today.

The Daoist outlook on life—a pure heart with few desires and going along with nature—is also a core element of TCM health preservation. Hence the old saying that a TCM physician is half a monk—here “monk” refers to a Daoist priest, not a Buddhist monk.

It is just that, compared with Taoist physicians, who are easily made to seem utterly mysterious, I prefer to be an ordinary TCM physician of the common people. I come from the common strata of society, have lived a commoner’s life for forty years, and love everything in the commoner’s world. Talking of mysteries is a kind of pressure for me; plain and real makes me feel more at ease.

Of course, I could not hide it even if I wanted to: as a staunch atheist and anti-authoritarian, I simply cannot bring myself to agree with anything closely tied to theocracy and authoritarianism. My lifelong pursuit is to make TCM “commoner-friendly” and “evidence-based”.

Although the Bencao Gangmu compiled by my hometown forebear Li Shizhen was limited by the era in which it was written and inevitably contains many errors, Li Shizhen’s spirit of seeking truth and innovation has kept this work of great practical value to this day.

It was at roughly my present age that Li Shizhen set aside his pursuit of the external world and immersed himself in the study of Chinese materia medica. Over more than thirty years, he revised the manuscript three times and produced the two-million-character Bencao Gangmu.

I too can barely count as someone who knows both medicine and writing. With a hometown sage like Li Shizhen as my role model, I am most unwilling to let this life pass in vain.

Confucianism in China has long held the life pursuit of “establishing merit, establishing words, and establishing virtue”. Establishing merit and virtue are far from me, but establishing words is somewhat feasible for me. Over the years I have written several million characters. I venture to say these articles have benefited at least some readers. As for those who plagiarize my articles to fish for fame, they have benefited even more.

Of course, having aspirations is one thing, but that does not mean I do not appreciate the Daoist way of life. A person actually needs a touch of the Daoist heart that withdraws from the mundane world, so as not to be entangled by the trivial formalities of secular life. Therefore, I still feel deep respect for those who truly cultivate themselves and study the Dao by transcending the self. It is just a pity that this time our karmic affinity was shallow, and I could not make one or two Taoist physician friends.