Qigong: Your Daily Practice for a More Vibrant and Healthy Life

Qigong, and Daoism, are a Lifestyle

During my research into Chinese culture, history, and metaphysics for my upcoming debut novel, The First Ogre King Book 1, I had a dilemma.

Sure, I’ve had an on-and-off relationship with anime since I was 7 or 8. But that’s modern Japanese media. Sure, I read Romance of the Three Kingdoms and Water Margin, classical Chinese literature. I got a decent idea of the art and culture.

But Daoism just didn’t click for me.

I read the Dao De Jing and the Zhuangzi, core books in the philosophy. Even then, I just didn’t get it. I didn’t have an intuition for how a Daoist might think about a situation and react to it. Since I have multiple Daoist characters, that was making the writing difficult.

I get Confucianism. If you don’t, I wrote an article on its ideals and how they conflict with the way it’s lived in China. Buddhism was the same. I read some work by Tich Nhat Hanh and think I’ve got a good foundation in the basics. It helps that Buddhism, unlike the other two main philosophy-religions of China, has made it to the West, thanks to India and Japan.

But Daoism is native Chinese, and there hasn’t been nearly as much cultural exchange with the West. I finally came to understand it better when I read the Wandering Daoist—a book about a master who grew up at one of the largest temples on one of the most sacred mountains in all of China.

Some of that story is, obviously, at least to me, total BS. Lots of magical encounters and events that clearly didn’t happen or are greatly exaggerated. But there’s still a lot in there that’s useful. I learned a great deal about the progression from novice to master, and the things they focus on in each stage of training.

I learned how a student is taught, from a young age, to think like a Daoist. It’s not by reading Laozi, I can tell you that.

This is because most in the West who think about Daoism think of the Dao De Jing or the Zhuangzi. Heady books written thousands of years ago by old hermits. However, that is not Daoism. There’s no single bible. As I said in my article on Daoism, there are hundreds upon hundreds of books in the canon, and some lineages don’t revere Laozi or Zhuangzi the way others do.

They were but two thinkers in a multi-thousand-year developmental process. Commentators who wrote about ancient texts. Commentators contradicting previous commentators. Teachers who don’t focus on certain books, leading to a lineage with different priorities than the one across the valley.

Daoism is a practice. A lifelong path of learning, mastering, and more learning for deeper and deeper mastery. Even elite priests seek older and wiser teachers to further their training.

Although Buddhism is a foreign religion, it’s been a part of Chinese culture for about 2000 years. That’s a long time for ideas to spread, merge, change, conflict, and synergize. Buddhism’s biggest contribution to the development of Daoism was meditation, a daily practice you use to cultivate the breath, unite the mind, body, and spirit, and overcome the limitations of the conscious mind.

Buddhist meditation is simple to explain, yet takes a lifetime to master.

Become one with the breath

Why is that so important? Well, it took until the last few decades for Western science to admit that Easterners have had it right for thousands of years. As it turns out, the breath, the diaphragm, is the key to communicating with your autonomic nervous system.

What does that mean?

The autonomic nervous system has its own yin/yang to it. Just as with any dual system, it’s either in yang-dominant or yin-dominant mode at any given time.

The sympathetic nervous system is the yang phase. It’s in use during the fight, flight, or freeze response. During times of stress and high-effort, we’re locked into active mode. It dilates the pupils so we can take in more light and see better. It channels blood flow away from the internal organs so our limbs can work better, and increases heart rate for the same reason.

It’s vitally important. But many in today’s age know being on all the time is not a good thing. Caffeine doesn’t help, and many of us are addicts. It actually kickstarts the sympathetic nervous system. It doesn’t just block adenosine receptors in the brain, making it easier to stay awake and fight off drowsiness.

Most people don’t know (because the industry doesn’t want us to) that it also triggers an adrenaline rush. The sympathetic nervous system locks on and stays on. That’s why some people have heightened anxiety and many have shaky hands. It’s literally adding stress to the system.

Stress in short bursts is crucial for our survival as a species. For any species. It helps us work our way through a dangerous situation. You can’t escape a burning building, or fight off a tiger with a spear, if you aren’t alert and active.

On the other-hand, chronic, long-term stress leads to cancer, ulcers, heart disease, digestive problems, and just about every other health issue modern humans deal with.

Dr. Maxwell Maltz called this the age of stress. He noted how we need a cabinet full of pills and potions just to get through daily life. The thing is . . . he said that in 1960. As stated in The New Psycho-Cybernetics, in 1960, we didn’t know what stress was.

As the Chinese would say, everything in balance.

The parasympathetic nervous system is the yin phase of the autonomic. It’s the rest and digest system. Or the feed and breed system. It brings about a lowered heart rate, increased digestion, and overall relaxation.

The body can only be in parasympathetic or sympathetic dominant mode at any given time. That’s just how it’s wired. Western doctors were absolutely convinced a person had no control over their autonomic nervous system. They were so sure of this they named it “autonomic,” meaning automatic or involuntary.

It’s in one mode or the other. End of story, unless you take a drug that forces one or the other into action. Or create some other external stimulus to change it. A scary sound or a warm bath, for example.

But the scientists of India and China have known better since before Christianity existed.

As it turns out, breath is the key. How? The diaphragm is directly connected to the autonomic nervous system, but unlike the rest of the organs involved, we can voluntarily control it. That’s right, you can dictate what mode your nervous system is in through the way you use your lungs. Fight, flight, freeze by taking quick, shallow breaths, or holding your breath. Rest and digest with deep, slow breaths.

The Daoists learned this from the Buddhists (who learned it from the Hindus) and then created their own system around this truth. Obviously, they didn’t use words like autonomic nervous system; they created their own terms in their own language.

What is Qigong?

Qigong, or Dao-yin as it was called for most of history, is the Daoist’s take on meditation. Chinese meditation, if you will.

When you read my book, you’ll quickly come across the term fang song. A literal translation of fang is simply “doing or releasing.” Song means “relaxation.” Gong means “work.” So, a fundamental qigong exercise, fang song gong, translates to “doing relaxation work.”

But we in the West misunderstand the sort of relaxation that’s being talked about here. When we say relaxation, we might think take a nap. Lie on the couch and watch TV. Don’t do anything.

Relaxation, right? Wrong.

In the Chinese language, fang song means more than don’t do anything. I use the translation “active relaxation and awareness.” It’s not a nothingness relaxation. It’s active, purposeful, aware relaxation.

You become aware of how you feel in mind and body, noticing where you’re holding stress and tension, and deliberately release it from the body as you trigger your parasympathetic system through deep breathing exercises. Once you’ve done that, you are ready to take action in whatever way you need to.

Relaxed and ready

We Westerners have recently learned something else they’ve known for thousands of years. The mind cannot be stressed if the body is fully relaxed. You read that right. They’ve done clinical studies now. If the body is perfectly relaxed, with no tension in the muscles, the mind cannot hold stress. Thanks parasympathetic.

It’s true the other way around, too—if the mind is stress-free, the body automatically lessens its tension.

The mind and body aren’t two separate things, like the Greeks so foolishly believed, which ruined our way of thinking for thousands of years. The mind and body are one-in-the-same. Just look at a map of the nervous system sometime, and you’ll see just how deeply integrated we are.

Yes, we have a very dense and complex cluster of nerves with a special bone case, but it has one hell of a cable that spindles out to every other part of the body.

What’s the difference?

The biggest difference between Buddhist and Daoist meditation is the goal. Traditional Buddhist meditation has one simple idea in mind—become one with the breath and escape the illusions (thoughts) in your head. Achieve nothingness. No ambition of any kind. No sense of self or separation from the world. Absolute ego death and unity with the universe.

The Daoists thought that was a bunch of nonsense and took it in a totally different direction. They still believe there’s a core to each person. A centered self that remains totally unmoved by any external or even internal turmoil. You want to find that deepest inner self and unite with it.

But they don’t seek ego death, the end of suffering, and unity with the divine. They seek internal cultivation, strength, and magical power in pursuit of becoming a superior being. This comes from Confucianism’s idea of the “superior man.” And the eternal hierarchy in every aspect of life.

It’s not about escaping the illusion of reality and finding peace. It’s about becoming a badass in control of oneself and the world around you, along with the ability to flow when life doesn’t go the way you want it to.

Daoist meditation is about becoming the ultimate version of yourself—to overcome all worldly limitations and achieve unparalleled health and longevity. Their version of an enlightened being is what’s often translated as “immortal.” Whether that’s literal or metaphorical depends on the lineage and what era we’re talking about.

Many Chinese gods were Daoists who, according to legend, achieved immortality through external and internal cultivation, ascended to heaven, and became part of the pantheon. In-fact, the three highest deities were all Daoist sages before they became gods.

The idea is that through deep breathing, visualizing and feeling proper chi flow (often written qi, for qigong, but I’ll stick with chi for pronunciation) through meridian, eating healthy foods, and exercise, one can maintain youth well into their older years. One can remain healthy while their peers are wasting away with old age.

The crazy part is that it works. Qigong practitioners are far healthier than those who don’t do it, or other practices like it. They often look younger than they are, have more agility, and maintain a level of fitness many people decades younger can’t hope to achieve.

Obviously, this isn’t a rule. And you can do it improperly, leading to its own problems. But it happens often enough that it’s worth exploring. When it has been researched, the findings corroborate the old wisdom.

How is this possible? Because the breath is life. It’s the first thing we do when we’re born, and it’s the last thing we do before we die. They’ve also had a clear vision of what it means to eat healthily for, again, thousands of years.

They focus on herbs, exercise and mobility, eating the right foods, and breathing deeply. In other words, Eastern medicine is focused on making the patient healthy, rather than treating illness. This is true if you visit a doctor or do your own healthy practices, like Qigong.

It’s remarkable how relaxed and ready you can be after just a minute of deep, focused breathing.

What does it look like?

Posture is vital in even the most basic Qigong exercises. They believe chi can’t travel through the meridians properly with bad posture. Blocked or stagnant chi is seen as the foundation of ill health. Even without believing in chi, we know proper posture is important.

The spine is a delicate thing, easily messed up. As we age, we often get rounded over. Many of us who aren’t old are already hunched because of our phones, or looking at laptops all day. It’s horrible for your health! How many of us in our 20s and 30s already have chronic low-back or neck pain?

That happens because our posture is poor, we don’t move them enough, and that’s where we hold stress in our bodies. Good posture and proper relaxation leads to no-more pain. Sure, it can still flare up from time to time, but it’s not constant once you change these habits.

Try sitting up straight, chest up, and shoulders back. Not puffing your chest out like a guy or gal who’s trying too hard, but naturally hold your chest up with a fairly straight spine. Now take a deep breath into your belly.

You want your belly to expand, and your chest and shoulders not to move very much. You can lie on your back with a book on your belly or chest to see which area is moving more. Studies show that chest breathing leads to all sorts of problems. It’s shallow.

It might be hard at first, but once you do it enough, it becomes habit, because it’s so much more comfortable. A full breath is far better.

Every animal on the planet breathes into its stomach, except western humans. Thanks, chairs and desks.

You will feel so much better just by making this one simple change to your posture and how you breathe. It’s how the body is meant to be aligned. When we were hunter-gatherers, we took that posture in stride. Now, we have to work to find or keep it with our sedentary lifestyles.

The next most important piece to basic Qigong is the stance. If you’re disabled and can’t stand, just do your best to sit up straight and aligned in your chair.

If you can stand, you’ll want to put your feet shoulder-width apart, with a slight bend in the knees. Then keep your spine mostly straight, with your arms relaxed at your sides. This isn’t a stressful posture, where you have to clench to remain upright. Just stand straight and relax your muscles. Fang song, remember?

Now breathe into your stomach. Eventually, you’ll want your whole lower trunk to move. Belly, sides, and even your lower back extend. It won’t move nearly as much as your stomach, but once you get there, your organs get massaged by every deep breath you take.

It even helps with digestion. And you use way more of the surface area of the lungs when you use them fully like this. Chest breathing is constricted, often a symptom of rounded shoulders and a collapsed chest.

In other words, a Chinese practitioner can tell what ails you just by the way you stand and breathe.

Now, you want to stand like a tree, deeply rooted to the spot. Nothing can move you unless you choose to move. Sink into the ground. Doing this outside, in-contact with real earth, is best. No shoes, or not rubber-soled.

Studies show that grounding the body helps relieve stress and even increases your blood/oxygen levels. Free radicals fly around the body. Why do you think it’s so important for electronics to have a grounding plug? We are giant, complex, bio-electric machines. Why would we be any different?

Once you’ve taken root, let the hips sink. Let the pelvis tilt forward and down a little. This may be difficult if you’re in your head all the time. Don’t push the pelvis forward either. Just let it sink as you become rooted to the ground.

This is where the lower dantian comes in. In Chinese medicine, there are three major energy centers throughout the body. Don’t worry if you believe it literally or not. It’s just an imagination exercise that helps you get realigned with your body.

The lower dantian is the most important of the three. It’s rooted in the center of the body, half-way between the navel and pelvic bone. So right around where your bladder is, there’s an energy center. This is the center of gravity.

This is where Daoists cultivate strength and vitality, then allow it to spread throughout the rest of the body. The other dantian are in the chest and the head, but we won’t be working with those right now.

When you breathe deeply, think about filling the lower dantian. That’s where you’re putting the air, the life chi from the universe. See it expand and contract with each breath. In with life energy, out with fear, or tired, or whatever ails you at the moment.

Hold your hands a little in front of the body and make an open circle around the dantian. So your hands are in front of your lower belly, forming an open ring. Breathe in the vibrant life chi; breathe out restriction. In slowly through the nose, out even slower through the mouth.

There are many variations to the breath speed. Many beginners find it helpful to count during each portion of the breath, though this isn’t traditional. If you want, you can try counting to four on the inhale, hold the breath for a count of four, exhale for eight, then hold your lungs empty for four before you inhale again.

Only do this if it’s comfortable! If that’s too much, don’t do it. The point is to relax, not to panic over aching lungs. Find a count that’s comfortable for you. Or don’t count and just focus on taking deep breaths.

The best time to do it is early morning or evening (6am or 6pm to be exact). But what really matters is having an empty stomach. Don’t eat a big meal and then try to breathe deeply. There’s no room. Also, don’t do it in a location that’s chaotic. Screaming children, harsh winds, tons of electronics, etc.

You want to find a quiet, tranquil place.

Try this for a minute, two minutes, up to five if you’ve never done it before. Then see how you feel. Many experienced practitioners stick to around 20 minutes. Some go as long as an hour, but that’s only because they feel best doing it that long. It’s not a competition. Do it as long as you’re comfortable, then stop.

Like any form of exercise, more isn’t necessarily better.

What about all this Chi stuff?

I don’t know if the metaphysical aspects of Chinese medicine exist or not. I used to be a hardcore rationalist. If a scientist hadn’t discovered it in a lab, and it hadn’t been peer-reviewed, it didn’t exist. Period.

But then I learned Eastern thinkers have known about ways to control one’s mind and body for thousands of years, while our Western scientists have only begrudgingly come to accept these facts in recent decades.

Many still think we peak at 25 and slowly decline for the rest of our lives. This is in-spite of research showing we actually peak at 35 and keep that same level of mental acuity well into our 70s.

It only makes sense that the Chinese came up with this system of thought and active relaxation. Not just qigong, but Daoism in general. If you think your life is stressful, read about the average scholar-official in Imperial China.

The SATs are a kindergarten pop quiz compared to the Imperial Exams. Not to mention the strict social etiquette you had to abide by every second of every day, no-matter your place in society. Even the Brits would have found it taxing.

No wonder so many Confucian officials left the cities later in life and became Daoist thinkers. They often emphasize leaving civilization behind, returning to nature, because of the sheer stress of it all. Not all lineages emphasize becoming an ascetic or hermit, but they still talk about returning to nature.

We in the West have pointlessly suffered for so long. So many have lived unhealthy, stressful lives, with no idea that they had all the tools they needed to relax and function. I don’t care if chi is literally real or not. When I engage my imagination in this way, and let myself stop thinking in a Western scientific manner, it just works.

That’s what I’ve come to. Not why it works. Not the mechanism. We may never know the mechanism. If we do, great. I love understanding why something works. But that’s secondary to whether or not it does work. Is it useful? Yes. Great. That’s all I need.

All I know is a few minutes of the most basic yoga or qigong can lead to hours of relaxed awareness I never dreamed possible. Does it help to know that the diaphragm is connected to and allows control over the autonomic nervous system? Sure, for some people. It made me more open to using these techniques, and that’s why I explained that here. But it has absolutely no impact on whether it works.

Give it a try. Not a half-assed, “oh fine, but it won’t work,” sort of try. Because it will only work if you let it. Holding onto the tension of doubt will make relaxation and focus impossible. Actually try it before judging if it’s right for you or not. Don’t analyze. Don’t criticize. You have plenty of time for that after you’re done with your one to five-minute practice.

Just take root, relax, and breathe into your lower belly. See the dantian glow with strength and vitality. You’ll thank me, yourself, and the ancient Daoists who came up with this practice.

There are so many techniques; there are entire books written about this stuff. I didn’t even get into all the different types of qigong meditation. Just basic fang song gong, but this is where it starts.

If the Wandering Daoist has any truth at all, you start with fang song gong, master that, then move onto other techniques like the Small Heavenly Circuit meditation, or moving Taiji Quan (Tai Chi Chuan).

If you found this as fascinating as I do, you’ll love The First Ogre King Book 1, a dark fantasy epic inspired by A Song of Ice and Fire and Dune. Arimaru is a shinobi, a spy-assassin, who constantly uses different qigong techniques to get himself into the proper mental space to do what he does best. He battles stress, despair, injury, and even illness with a nightly practice of deep breathing and focused attention on being relaxed and ready. You can read the first chapters right here for free.