Opening to the Breath: François Cheng and the Taoist Spirit
Part 2 of a 3-part series exploring the literary world of François Cheng
“To be in accord — that is wisdom.”
This article is part of a 3-part series on François Cheng’s literary universe.
➤ Part 1 – Immersive Journey Through a Wounded and Timeless China
➤ Part 2 – You are here
➤ Part 3 – Reading Cheng in 2025 (coming soon)
📺 Watch the companion videocasts on my YouTube channel
🔗https://youtu.be/Pk8uIztKyNA?feature=shared
A Literature Carried by Breath
Reading François Cheng is like entering a world where language breathes. Every image, every silence, seems attuned to a deeper rhythm — one that resonates with Taoist philosophy, not through explicit explanation, but through lived experience.
In The River Below and Eternity Isn’t Too Much, the wind, the mountains, the rivers are more than scenery. They express the Qi — the vital breath — that animates both nature and the human heart. Cheng does not present an idea of Taoism; he lets us feel its movement, its resonance, in the flow of narrative and emotion.
Tao, the Median Void, and Inner Alchemy
Without requiring prior knowledge of Chinese philosophy, Cheng’s novels naturally evoke key Taoist notions:
The Tao as the Way — not to be controlled but followed with attentiveness.
Wu Wei, or “non-action,” which is not passivity, but the wisdom of right timing and alignment.
The Median Void, a fertile emptiness — not a void of meaning, but a space of transformation and receptivity.
His characters embody these principles. Their paths are never straight. They move through uncertainty, loss, exile, and love with a quiet form of resilience. The novel becomes a space of inner transmutation, where the raw material of experience is refined into clarity and depth.
Philosophy in Story, Not in Theory
What’s remarkable is how Cheng gives flesh to philosophy. The Tao is not explained; it is experienced — in a gesture, a tear, a moment of stillness. A nighttime conversation on a sampan. A silence heavy with meaning. A decision made not out of will, but of listening.
Rather than preach, Cheng offers companionship. He shows that each of us can engage in a personal quest — not to fix the world, but to find harmony within it.
A Literature of Healing
In a world obsessed with speed and noise, François Cheng invites us to slow down. His writing reclaims otium — the sacred, active leisure of the spirit. A space where silence is not empty but full. Where beauty can still offer consolation.
His novels don’t offer ready-made answers. But they do open a space to breathe, to realign, to begin again — with tenderness, courage, and quiet wisdom.
Elisabeth