In this rare firsthand account of an individual's pursuit of sagehood, the early Ming dynasty scholar and teacher Wu Yubi chronicles his progress and his setbacks, as he strives to integrate the Neo-Confucian practices of self-examination and self-cultivation into everyday life. In more than three hundred entries, spanning much of his adult life, Wu paints a vivid picture, not only of the life of the mind, but also of the life of a teacher of modest means, struggling to make ends meet in a rural community. This volume features M. Theresa Kelleher's superb translation of Wu's journal, along with translations of more than a dozen letters from his personal correspondence. A general Introduction discusses Neo-Confucianism and the Ming dynasty, and includes biographical information that puts the main work in context. A substantial commentary on the journal discusses the obstacles and supports Wu encounters in pursuit of his goal, the conflict between discipline and restraint of the self and the nurturing and expanding of the self, Wu's successes and failures, and Wu’s role as a teacher. Also included are a map of the Ming dynasty, a pronunciation guide, a chronology of Chinese dynasties, a glossary of names, a glossary of book titles, and suggestions for further reading.
The noble person tends to his own situation in life. How could he take what comes from the outside world as true honor or disgrace? - Wu Yu-bi
Is philosophy a body of knowledge or a transformative way of life?
I know the answer most academic philosophers would now give, but it was not always that way. I've touched upon this matter before in my review of Qu'est ce que la philosophie antique?, in which Pierre Hadot made the case that there was an entire tradition of Greco-Roman philosophy concerned with transforming the philosopher into a sage, for whom philosophy was a way of life and not merely a body of knowledge to be acquired either for its own sake or for another purpose (such as becoming a more persuasive and influential politician or lawyer) or a set of intellectually interesting abstract questions about which one could pleasantly speculate. In Pursuits of Wisdom John M. Cooper wrote a rejoinder which by my lights set up straw men and knocked them down again. Though interesting in the portions of the book which provide an overview of the various schools of Greco-Roman philosophy, as a polemic it failed to convince me. Having read in the meanwhile the letters of Seneca and what is left of the writings of Epicurus and Epictetus, not to mention the Socratic tradition as represented in Plato's dialogues, the existence of a tradition of philosophia that included a transformation of the individual with the goal of becoming a sage is certain. That there were other, parallel traditions is equally certain.
However, in China, at least until very recently, philosophy was concerned with the transformation of the individual, whether it was labelled Taoist, Buddhist or Confucian.(*) The entire state examination system, put in place already during the Han dynasty, made neither science nor the management of large bureaucracies part of its curriculum, but rather poetry, history and philosophy were the focus of its students, in the expectation that they would become more moral, more in tune with the lawful harmony of Heaven and Earth through their study of these.(**) This goes well beyond matters of mere knowledge.
I have long been interested in Chinese philosophy for many reasons, and one of these is that it did not lose sight of the questions which are of interest to basically all human beings, but particularly to the young: How should I live? What is the Good Life? And for the relatively few there were also the questions - as in Greco-Roman times - what is a sage and how do I become one?
These latter questions were always important in the Taoist and Buddhist traditions, and though they were tacit already in the Analects of Confucius,(***) they became centrally important in that response to the Taoist and Buddhist competition made by the Confucians during the Song dynasty which Westerners call neo-Confucianism. Elsewhere I have discussed the Korean Confucian Yi Hwang's Sŏnghak sipto (The Ten Diagrams of Sage Learning) (available in English translation under the title To Become a Sage), where he summarized for the young Korean king ten steps to sagehood. But the "daily record" of Wu Yu-bi is a very different kettle of fish.
Wu Yu-bi (Wu Yü-pi, 1391-1469) was the son of an ambitious father - a successful scholar/official who became the director of studies at the National University in the capital Nanjing - and the father intended for his eldest son a similar path. Wu was a filial son, but he was not cut out for such a life(4*) and discontinued his preparations for the state examination. His father disinherited him (though he changed his mind a decade later), and Wu withdrew to one of the family estates, where he spent the rest of his life trying to make a living as a farmer and to become a Confucian sage in the model of the great Song dynasty masters.
The Journal of Wu Yubi (2013) is M. Theresa Kelleher's commented translation of some of Wu's letters and of his "daily record," in which he wrote (for himself, not for publication) his travails, efforts and successes in these two tasks. Although the entries were not actually made daily, they began in 1425 and continued through the last year of his life. Even if one has no interest in becoming a sage or in understanding those who do, these letters and daily record provide a direct glimpse into the life, mind and emotions of a Ming dynasty man. Speaking personally, I found these texts to be fascinating, informative, poignant and very moving as Wu is pulled between his ideal goal and the necessities of survival, as he slowly realizes that both tasks are immensely more difficult than he had initially imagined, and as he makes incremental progress while vacillating between despair and hope, doubt and confidence, a tormented spirit and tranquility. That is life, whatever the particular goals of the individual may be...
(*) This is not to deny that rather technical questions were analyzed by some Chinese philosophers, but I've yet to run across a Chinese thinker before the 20th century whose relation to philosophy resembles that of our professors of philosophy.
(**) In China poetry, history and philosophy were usually written with primarily ethical concerns in mind.
(***) Confucius repeatedly explained to his listeners how a "superior man" would behave in many different situations. To become such a "gentleman" required for Confucius much more than the right knowledge - it required a transformative development of character, morals and understanding.
(4*) In fact, Wu's father worked for the Yongle emperor, whose father was the monstrous and, at the end, mad first Ming emperor whom I mention in my review of The Poet Kao Chʻi, 1336-1374. The son wasn't mad, but he was a ruthless butcher like his father. It was so bad that many Confucian officials chose to withdraw from government service instead of serving Yongle (an extremely momentous decision for such men, not simply because it meant abandoning the service which was at the center of their value system, but because it also incurred, in some cases, the wrath of the emperor and the execution of their entire family). It is significant that Wu's father served to the end.
One of the world's earliest "diaries" I enjoyed reading the daily thoughts of Wu Yubi, not only did his journal put into perspective some of the very realistic struggles one might experience on their own path to sage hood, but Theresa Kelleher also provides background, notes, and excellent sources for us to further understand the texts.
This is more than the writings of someone pursuing religion, it's about dealing with poverty, struggling with one's health, temperament, family, and the pain you sometime face choosing a different destiny than the one laid out for you.
The choice Wu Yubi made to pursue sagehood over the career laid out for him by his father was not an easy one. Picking up his life and living poor in the country, farming the land when he was once a scholar, and trying to teach to the next generation isn't a far cry from some of the decisions people make today and so the life of this Neo-Confucian scholar will be something I think a lot of people can identify with. On a more scholarly note, Wu Yubi's choice of the heading for the country for his studies is something I think highly influenced religious thinking at that time as we see from Daoism, Neo-Confucianism, and Buddhism the impact of nature on spirituality.
A book that seamlessly weaves together philosophical wisdom and practical guidance. Wu Yubi's words are like gentle whispers of ancient sages, guiding us towards a deeper understanding of ourselves and the world around us.
My key learning from this book:
True wisdom lies not in the accumulation of knowledge, but in the surrendering of our preconceived notions.
This simple yet profound statement encapsulates the essence of Wu Yubi's teachings. He encourages us to let go of our biases and limitations, and to embrace the unknown with an open heart and mind. It is through this surrendering that we can transcend our limitations and embark on the path to sagehood.
It's not a bad read, but Wu Yubi didn't include much of his own analysis and the like on his own study very often in his own journal which is a little bit frustrating. He talks about how reading the works make him feel mostly. He doesn't therefore, share whatever insights he might have had in the same way as other Neo-Confucian scholars did which is a big part of what I'm interested in. I prefer other Neo-Confucian writings.
This is a really interesting book. Wu (1392-1469) was a Confucian teacher of the early Ming Dynasty. As an adolescent he resolved to abandon preparation for the Chinese imperial service in favor of pursuing sagehood. This led to disowning by his father and banishment to a rural home where he had to farm to feed himself and his family. The journal (a genre for which he is responsible, more or less) is a somewhat repetitive but also intriguing record of his emotional and intellectual efforts at growth, at self-cultivation through a combination of self-discipline and gentle nurture. The translator provided much useful introductory and commentarial content.