2 Explaining the Title: Substantiating, Intent, Modeling, and the Flying Serpent

2.1 Explaining "Intent": The Deliberation of Qi

The opening line is itself a definition: "substantiated intent is the deliberation of qi." Intent is the deliberative function of qi. This definition situates "intent" within the standard framework of pre-Qin thought on body and mind: a person is constituted of qi; the refined portion of qi is the numinous spirit; and "intent" is the mode qi takes on when it is engaged in deliberation.

This is not a coinage original to the Guiguzi, but a shared understanding of the Warring States period:

• The Guanzi, "Inward Training" (Neiye): "As for the essence of all things, it is this that gives rise to life. Below, it gives birth to the five grains; above, it becomes the ranked stars. Flowing between Heaven and Earth, it is called the ghostly and the numinous; stored within the breast, it is called the sage." — The essential qi stored within the breast is precisely the source from which a person's deliberation and discernment arise.
• The Mencius, "Gongsun Chou I": "The will is the commander of qi; qi fills the body… Hold fast to your will, and do not agitate your qi." It also says: "When the will is unified it moves qi, and when qi is unified it moves the will." — Will and intent, and qi, pull upon one another; the causation runs both ways.

Since intent is "the deliberation of qi," then the ailments of intent are the ailments of qi: when qi disperses, intent grows unsettled; when qi is disturbed, intent falls into disorder. "Substantiating intent," at root, is therefore a project of governing qi — which is why the method set out in this piece begins from the purely bodily level of "calming and settling the five viscera, harmonizing and opening the six bowels."

2.2 Explaining "Substantiated"

"Substantiated" (shi) is paired against "hollow" (xu). The piece itself supplies the negative definition: "intent has nothing to rely upon — it becomes hollow and without substance." A "hollow" intent is one in which the heart-mind has no master, sways along with things, and speaks words that do not proceed from within ("words no longer proceed from the heart-mind"). A "substantiated" intent is one in which deliberation is settled and fixed, something is held to within, and inner and outer match.

The Han Feizi, in "Illustrations of Laozi" (Yu Lao), glossing the chapter of the Laozi that reads "without leaving one's door, one may know all under Heaven," says:

The apertures are the doors and windows of the numinous spirit. When the ears and eyes are exhausted by sound and sight, and the essence and spirit are exhausted in outward appearance, then one is without a master within. Being without a master within, calamity and fortune, though as vast as hills and mountains, cannot be discerned… This describes the numinous spirit's not departing from its own substance.

"The numinous spirit does not depart from its own substance" — these six characters are almost the best possible gloss on the two characters "substantiating intent": when the spirit does not leak outward through the ears and eyes and sound and sight, but holds to its own "substance," one has a master within; and having a master within, one can then discern fortune and calamity. The final section of this piece of the Guiguzi is, as will be shown below, an entire recasting of Chapter 47 of the Laozi, and Han Feizi's gloss shares the same origin and the same structure — which shows that "substantiating intent" was not the solitary insight of the School of Diplomacy, but a shared concern of the Huang-Lao lineage in the Warring States period.

2.3 Explaining "Modeling"

"Modeling" (fa) means taking as a model, taking as a pattern. The first three of the Seven Techniques of the Original Canon each take a numinous creature as their model: abounding spirit is modeled on the Five Dragons, nurturing the will is modeled on the Sacred Tortoise, and substantiating intent is modeled on the Flying Serpent. This approach of "observing a thing to derive a pattern" is exactly the method the Great Treatise (Xici zhuan) calls "taking near at hand from one's own person, and taking far off from other things": from the single most salient virtue of a given creature, one distills a governing principle of practice. So to read this piece, one must first ask: what, in the eyes of pre-Qin thinkers, was the flying serpent — and what in it was there to model oneself upon$1

2.4 Explaining "The Flying Serpent": Three Pieces of Pre-Qin Evidence

The reliable pre-Qin material concerning the flying serpent (tengshe) amounts to only a handful of passages — and it is precisely these few that make perfectly clear the reason for "modeling oneself on the flying serpent."

First, the Xunzi, "Encouraging Learning" (Quanxue): the flying serpent flies though it has no feet.

The flying serpent has no feet, yet it flies; the flying squirrel has five skills, yet it is reduced to poverty.

It is especially important to look at the context of this line. At this point "Encouraging Learning" is discussing the principle that "the use of the heart-mind must be unified": the earthworm has no sharp claws or teeth, no strong sinews or bones, yet it can feed above on the dust of the earth and drink below from the Yellow Springs, because it uses its heart-mind in a unified way; the crab has six legs and two pincers, yet apart from the burrows of snakes and eels it has nowhere to lodge, because it uses its heart-mind restlessly. Immediately following comes "the flying serpent has no feet, yet it flies; the flying squirrel has five skills, yet it is reduced to poverty" — the flying serpent has not even one skill (it lacks even feet), yet it can fly; the flying squirrel possesses five skills at once, yet is master of none and ends in poverty. For Master Xun, the flying serpent is a symbol of the fact that unity carried to its utmost can accomplish what would otherwise be impossible. Its relevance to "substantiating intent" is direct: when intent is substantiated it is unified, and being unified it depends on nothing outside itself — no external thing, no external skill — and so is able, of itself, to fly.

Second, the Shenzi (as cited in the Han Feizi, "Criticizing the Doctrine of Circumstantial Power," Nan Shi): the flying serpent rides upon mist.

Master Shen said: the flying dragon rides the clouds, the soaring serpent travels the mist. When the clouds disperse and the mist clears, dragon and serpent become no different from earthworms and ants — for they have lost what they rode upon.

The reason the flying serpent is able to travel through the high air is that it rides upon mist; once the clouds disperse and the mist clears, it is no different from an earthworm or an ant. This passage supplies a second facet of the serpent's character: it is a creature that moves by riding upon qi. Since "intent" is "the deliberation of qi," then intent stands to qi exactly as the flying serpent stands to mist: when qi gathers, intent can roam a myriad miles in spirit; when qi disperses, intent falls to earth and becomes no different from an ordinary thought. Master Shen's warning (that losing what one rides upon reduces one to the level of earthworms and ants) is, read the other way round, precisely the argument for the necessity of "substantiating intent": to preserve that qi one rides upon, one must "hold firm without stirring," and not let the clouds disperse and the mist clear.

Third, the Zhouyi, "Great Treatise, Part Two" (Xici xia): the hibernation of dragon and serpent is how they preserve themselves.

The bending of the inchworm is how it seeks to extend itself; the hibernation of dragon and serpent is how they preserve themselves; the entering of subtle meaning into the numinous is how it is put to use.

The virtue proper to the class of serpents lies not only in flight but also in hibernation — coiling and lying hidden through the winter, entirely motionless, precisely in order to preserve the self while awaiting the right time. The Great Treatise links "the hibernation of dragon and serpent" together with "the entering of subtle meaning into the numinous, whereby it is put to use": lying hidden is not the goal, but is done so that, once fully accumulated, it may be used. This matches, character for character, the "holding firm without stirring" of "essence, spirit, hun-soul, and po-soul" in this piece: the outward appearance of the work of substantiating intent is precisely a period of deep stillness and concealment, and its destination is the practical use found in "stratagems."

A small corroborating point from philology: the character teng 螣 already carried two distinct uses in pre-Qin texts. In the Book of Songs, "Xiaoya, Da Tian," the line "get rid of the ming and teng, and the borers and thieves" uses teng for a leaf-eating pest of grain, unrelated to the present matter; the Xunzi writes "tengshe" 螣蛇, while the Han Feizi's citation of the Shenzi writes "tengshe" as 腾蛇 — teng 螣 and teng 腾 being interchangeable, with the sense falling squarely on leaping and rising aloft. It can be seen that the very naming of the "flying serpent" already rests on the wonder of "flying though footless."

In summary: taking the three passages together, there are three respects in which the flying serpent may be modeled —

1. Flying without feet: relying on no organ or instrument, achieving its capacity purely through unity. Modeled upon, this becomes "holding fast to the true One without letting it be transformed away."
2. Roaming by riding upon mist: its capacity depends entirely on the qi it rides. Modeled upon, this becomes the governing and condensing of qi, so that it is not allowed to disperse.
3. Hibernating to preserve the self: utmost stillness and utmost concealment, accumulating before use. Modeled upon, this becomes "holding firm without stirring," ultimately arriving at "use."

The five characters "substantiating intent, modeled on the flying serpent" compress these three virtues into a single governing thread of practice.