Journey Through Ningxia: Exploring Historic Mosques, Sufi Shrines & Halal Culture in Northwest China
[Internet Repost]
Southern Ningxia Travel Series Part 5: A Historical and Geographical Travelogue from Jiucaiping in Haiyuan to the Mountains and Rivers of Guyuan
Summary:
Setting off from the Sufi holy site of Jiucaiping in Haiyuan County toward Guyuan. Along the way, I chronicled the rolling loess hills outside the car window, the Hui Muslim villages, and ancient architecture, painting a vivid and lively picture of the history and cultural landscape of southern Ningxia.
丨Jiucaiping丨
-
It all depends on how you walk the road!
-
When I was in elementary school, Xumi Mountain Grottoes appeared in a pictorial I flipped through. With a child's simple mindset, I wondered: why does Hui Muslim-populated Ningxia have such a giant Buddha? Most Chinese Buddhist grottoes are located along the nomadic borderlands, which were also the front lines of war. War brings faith, and frequent warfare makes the anchoring of faith even more essential. War, commerce, and faith have always been born together.
From Xumi Mountain turning southwest toward Huoshizhai, this entire mountain range is made of red sandstone, much like the Bin County Giant Buddha, making it a natural location for carving grottoes. Xumi Mountain Grottoes hold a significant place in the history of Chinese Buddhist art. Carved during the Northern Wei dynasty, they are even 150 years older than the Bin County Giant Buddha. I really wanted to see that open-air Buddha I had admired in pictorials since childhood—rumored to be the prototype for the Lushena Buddha at the Longmen Grottoes. As it turned out, from far away I saw a layer of green protective netting erected over the mountain; the giant Buddha was undergoing renovations. As the car continued along the road, directly facing the highway, I clearly saw dense scaffolding covering the cliff face, wrapped in thick protective netting, obscuring the true appearance of the giant Buddha. I figured that if you just want to catch a glimpse of this main Buddha, it’s hardly worth buying a ticket to enter the scenic area, as travelers passing north and south can easily admire it right out the window.
From the Kouzi Reservoir at Xumi Mountain Temple, the road splits: one way goes northwest toward Haiyuan, and the other goes southwest toward Huoshizhai. Huoshizhai has become a famous scenic spot due to its Danxia landform. One of its grottoes is rumored to be the meditation chamber where Khwaja Abdullah once sat in silent contemplation, which has now become a gongbei (Sufi shrine / mausoleum complex). I even arranged a chapter for Huoshizhai in my book *Heroes of the Hehuang Region*, so I really should have gone to check it out. Choosing between diverging paths is always the hardest part, but in the end, I chose the direction of Haiyuan, because a friend I had never met before was patiently waiting for me there.
△ Xumi Mountain Grottoes, image sourced from the internet
The corridor spanning from Ershilipu to Yangjianbao, Huoshizhai, and Jiucaiping should be called a cultural corridor of the Qadiriyya-Yangmen (Sufi order / brotherhood) in Ningxia. This route basically unfolds along the footprint of Khwaja Abdullah during the Kangxi Emperor's reign, and the subsequent Patriarch Yang continued to spread the teachings along this corridor. Among them, Yangjianbao should be considered a relatively important community of the grand Qadiriyya gongbei (Sufi shrine / mausoleum complex) in its early days. Aside from people surnamed Ma represented by Ma Ziyun, people surnamed Yang represented by Yang Hong should also belong to this gongbei order. The Bababasi Mosque in Langzhong still preserves plaques presented to it by Yang Hong and his son Yang Shizhang respectively. One reads: 'The Way Preserved in Universal Illumination,' and the other reads: 'Arriving at the Shore of the Dao.'
My assessment that Yangjianbao belonged to the grand gongbei (Sufi shrine / mausoleum complex) rather than the Yangmen system in its early days is based on the fact that although the Yangmen system also originated from Khwaja Abdullah, every generation before Patriarch Yang practiced self-cultivation individually and transmitted the lineage in a single line, almost without developing a large following. It wasn't until Patriarch Yang that the lineage flourished. Patriarch Yang only set foot in the Haigu region to preach during the Xianfeng and Tongzhi eras. Therefore, the people of Yangjianbao prior to the Qianlong and Jiaqing eras must have maintained ties with the Qi Jingyi lineage, which guarded the tomb of Khwaja Abdullah. Moreover, Qi Jingyi's Dharma-brother Ma Shenyi was also a native of Majiazhuang. Finally, it was only after the Yangmen order rose to prominence in the Haigu region that Yangjianbao might have severed its ties with the grand gongbei (Sufi shrine / mausoleum complex)—though this is merely a conjecture.
Jiucaiping is not far from Xumi Mountain and can be considered the ancestral home of the Ningxia Yangmen. When I was a child, I only knew this place as Jiucaiping (Leek Flat). I don't know when it became Jiucaiping (Nine-Color Flat)—perhaps 'Jiucaiping' with the character for 'color' is an elegant refinement of 'Leek Flat,' or perhaps 'Leek Flat' was a corruption of the name. Legend has it that Patriarch Yang stepped foot here nine times; I wonder if that is a beautiful embellishment for the refined name. However, there is no doubt that Patriarch Yang used this place as his base for propagating the faith in the Haigu region.
The peculiar thing about Jiucaiping is that in the middle of a small plain embraced by mountains, a round, bulging little hill rises up, which locals vividly call 'Geda Mountain' (Lump Mountain). Geda Mountain buries the fifth patriarchs of the Yangmen tradition. It is the master of Patriarch Yang's grandfather, and Patriarch Yang's sacred remains were also temporarily interred on Geda Mountain. After the 1920 Haiyuan earthquake, Patriarch Yang's remains were moved back to Xining by followers from Qinghai.
A series of tangled and muddled historical controversies arose around Patriarch Yang's sacred remains. To summarize the main points: first, Patriarch Yang attained *wafat* (passed away) in Houzihe, northern Xining, and was buried there. Afterward, people from Ningxia quietly moved him to Geda Mountain. After the earthquake, he returned to Houzihe, and during the Cultural Revolution, he was quietly transferred to Lele Heyi in Datong, Qinghai, where he has remained a closely guarded secret ever since. These are considered the three rises and falls of this story. Along the way, there were various minor twists and turns too numerous to mention, and to this day there is no definitive conclusion. Naturally, one can understand the scramble for his blessed *ziyarat* (tomb/shrine) to gain blessings, but viewed from a deeper perspective, the pure light of the *mazar* (tomb/shrine) shines eternally, and fragrant breezes blow; Houzihe has Patriarch Yang, Heyi has Patriarch Yang, and Jiucaiping certainly has Patriarch Yang. There is no need to argue over who is superior.
The special feature of the Yangmen tradition is its lineage of single-line transmission across seven generations. The self-narrated lineage of Yangmen comes from Khwaja Abdullah, who passed it to Patriarch Ma of Yunnan. In terms of seniority, this Patriarch Ma was a Dharma-brother of the same generation as Qi Jingyi. Subsequently, Patriarch Ma of Yunnan passed it to Zhou of Gongchang; Zhou of Gongchang passed it to Ma of Guangdamen in Xi'an; Ma of Guangdamen passed it to Feng of Gedashan in Xi'an; Feng of Gedashan passed it to An of Beijiyuan; and An of Beijiyuan passed it to Patriarch Yang of Xining, making Patriarch Yang the seventh patriarch.
Apart from Khwaja Abdullah, the deeds of the generations from Patriarch Ma of Yunnan all the way to Patriarch Feng of Gedashan are not very clear; most of the time, they existed merely as names acting as links in this golden chain. The profile of Patriarch An is relatively clear, and the life trajectory of Patriarch Yang is completely transparent. This closely resembles the appearance of early Zen Buddhism: although Zen claims to have been transmitted from Bodhidharma through five generations to Huineng, where it blossomed and bore fruit, in reality, the profiles of the four patriarchs before the Fifth Patriarch Hongren are quite murky, seemingly existing only in legends.
The true founder of this Yunnan Ma lineage should be credited to the Seventh Patriarch, Yang Baoyuan. Patriarch Yang gathered the essence of the tradition, allowing this single-line transmitted order to branch out and flourish while simultaneously sealing it. That is to say, the era of the Patriarchs ended; after Patriarch Yang, there would no longer be an Eighth Patriarch. Even if there were individuals with great achievements afterward, they could no longer enter this sequence. This may seem baffling and kept me conflicted for a very long time, but seen from today's perspective, it is easily explained: the classical era completely ended during the time of Patriarch Yang. Compared to the classical era, the new era that the world entered after the late Qing dynasty seems like another dimension entirely.
Taking a careful look at the Yangmen tradition, more than half of the patriarchs from Khwaja Abdullah downward are people from the Xi'an-Guanzhong region. This demonstrates how deeply rooted Gedemu (traditional Islamic education/community) culture nourished the growth of Sufism. After all, prior to the Tongzhi Hui Revolt, the economy and culture of Xi'an and Guanzhong Hui Muslims ranked among the very best in all of China. This brings us back to the subtle relationship between Gedemu and Sufism; I think we can discuss this when we talk about the Xi'an Muslim Quarter (Huifang) another time.
Today's Jiucaiping is no longer just a dirt lump amidst thousands of mountains, but the realization of everyone's united effort to turn loess into gold. What is most admirable is the lush greenery covering Geda Mountain. Looking around at the surrounding barren mountains—which resemble a sea of loess—Geda Mountain stands like a green island in the middle of the sea. This is entirely due to the meticulous cultivation by the late Director Li Degui. Amidst the rustling of pine waves, the fifth patriarch, Feng, and various subsequent directors sleep in peace.
Below Geda Mountain sits the *daotang* (religious hall) of the Yangmen, featuring a massive fortress-like wall—the product of closing doors for self-preservation to resist soldiers and bandits during turbulent times. I have seen past photos of this religious hall; its exposed rammed-earth walls bore the weathering of time and were quite striking. Visiting in person this time, however, it has been completely wrapped in brand-new cement bricks. What a pity, though this is also what the times demand; the fresh look certainly appears more modern. The school next to the religious hall is large enough to rival a middle school.
Several years ago, my grandfather came here, and the leader of the hall, Mu Fengwu, warmly introduced him to the place when the school was still a construction site. On the third day after I arrived in Jiucaiping, my grandfather passed away suddenly. Standing where my grandfather had once stood, how could I have imagined that two days later he would leave us forever? Thinking of that day still moves me; as I write these words, my grandfather has inevitably become my late grandfather. Both of he and I have been here, but it feels like a lifetime away.
I asked an attendant at the entrance of the religious hall, who told me that hall leader Mu Fengwu was not there, so I didn't go inside to tour the hall, but I took a good look at the school instead. Everything about the religious hall shows that Mu Fengwu is a leader striving for prosperity. After all, the *hukm* (divine command/call of the times) and opportunities are different from the era of Master Li Degui. Master Li Degui's era, much like that of my late grandfather, could only accomplish one thing: survive. Survival wasn't for oneself, but to preserve the faith!
Sufism and *menhuan* (Sufi orders / brotherhoods) in the new era face immense external and internal challenges—challenges far too complex to explain in just a few words here. Seeing such a grand school in Jiucaiping made it very clear to me how Sufism internally reacts to these challenges. With knowledge and information exploding everywhere, is the traditional Sufi method of rigorous silence, oral transmission heart-to-heart, and avoiding written texts inevitably facing a threat? In the past, people spent ten years walking before a master just to beg for a single spiritual realization. Do people today have that kind of time and patience? In the past, attaining a single spiritual realization took a lifetime of effort—earned through staying up half the night, waking at the crow of the rooster, and kneeling until one's feet bled. Is it now earned through casual small talk in upscale tea rooms with high-class friends? In the past, dedicating one's whole life to strictly observing a single classic was enough for a lifetime; today, is devouring the *Siku Quanshu* (Complete Library in Four Branches of Literature) and the Buddhist Tripitaka still considered not enough?
At any time, the transmission of knowledge is necessary, and studying to understand principles will always be the fastest channel for elevation. A scholar without spiritual practice (*amal*) is still better than an ignorant practitioner. Ignorant asceticism leads only to destruction, whereas scholarship without practice still holds value. Without knowledge, it is absolutely impossible; but to make a superstition of knowledge is the greatest tragedy of our era. Sufism cannot be without knowledge; many forms of Sufi deviation stem from a lack of knowledge, leaving individuals to act on their own ego and turning spontaneous spiritual practice into ego-driven practice. How many Sufis have stumbled precisely into the quagmire of knowledge, mistaking the illusion for the truth and refusing to disembark once reaching the other shore? True Sufism transcends the dualistic opposition between knowledge and ignorance.
As I left Jiucaiping, I suddenly recalled a statement Patriarch Yang made when describing his own experiences: 'I too have mingled in the secular world and opened schools; I too have expounded the law and debated the rights and wrongs of the Dao. These idle conversations shall never be spoken again.' Patriarch Yang and the six patriarchs before him were all great scholars, yet without exception, they ultimately rejected their scholarly careers and walked the path of silent, unwritten self-cultivation. This is the unique temperament of the Qadiriyya and the foundational ethos of the Yangmen school.
After all, Patriarch Yang was too clear-headed, knowing that one era differs from another, which is why there are no more patriarchs after the Seventh Patriarch. A gust of wind swept by, my WeChat chimed, and my friends in Haiyuan were urging me on. I continued my journey northward.
—END—
Southern Ningxia Travel Series Part 5: A Historical and Geographical Travelogue from Jiucaiping in Haiyuan to the Mountains and Rivers of Guyuan
Summary:
Setting off from the Sufi holy site of Jiucaiping in Haiyuan County toward Guyuan. Along the way, I chronicled the rolling loess hills outside the car window, the Hui Muslim villages, and ancient architecture, painting a vivid and lively picture of the history and cultural landscape of southern Ningxia.
丨Jiucaiping丨
-
It all depends on how you walk the road!
-
When I was in elementary school, Xumi Mountain Grottoes appeared in a pictorial I flipped through. With a child's simple mindset, I wondered: why does Hui Muslim-populated Ningxia have such a giant Buddha? Most Chinese Buddhist grottoes are located along the nomadic borderlands, which were also the front lines of war. War brings faith, and frequent warfare makes the anchoring of faith even more essential. War, commerce, and faith have always been born together.
From Xumi Mountain turning southwest toward Huoshizhai, this entire mountain range is made of red sandstone, much like the Bin County Giant Buddha, making it a natural location for carving grottoes. Xumi Mountain Grottoes hold a significant place in the history of Chinese Buddhist art. Carved during the Northern Wei dynasty, they are even 150 years older than the Bin County Giant Buddha. I really wanted to see that open-air Buddha I had admired in pictorials since childhood—rumored to be the prototype for the Lushena Buddha at the Longmen Grottoes. As it turned out, from far away I saw a layer of green protective netting erected over the mountain; the giant Buddha was undergoing renovations. As the car continued along the road, directly facing the highway, I clearly saw dense scaffolding covering the cliff face, wrapped in thick protective netting, obscuring the true appearance of the giant Buddha. I figured that if you just want to catch a glimpse of this main Buddha, it’s hardly worth buying a ticket to enter the scenic area, as travelers passing north and south can easily admire it right out the window.
From the Kouzi Reservoir at Xumi Mountain Temple, the road splits: one way goes northwest toward Haiyuan, and the other goes southwest toward Huoshizhai. Huoshizhai has become a famous scenic spot due to its Danxia landform. One of its grottoes is rumored to be the meditation chamber where Khwaja Abdullah once sat in silent contemplation, which has now become a gongbei (Sufi shrine / mausoleum complex). I even arranged a chapter for Huoshizhai in my book *Heroes of the Hehuang Region*, so I really should have gone to check it out. Choosing between diverging paths is always the hardest part, but in the end, I chose the direction of Haiyuan, because a friend I had never met before was patiently waiting for me there.
△ Xumi Mountain Grottoes, image sourced from the internet
The corridor spanning from Ershilipu to Yangjianbao, Huoshizhai, and Jiucaiping should be called a cultural corridor of the Qadiriyya-Yangmen (Sufi order / brotherhood) in Ningxia. This route basically unfolds along the footprint of Khwaja Abdullah during the Kangxi Emperor's reign, and the subsequent Patriarch Yang continued to spread the teachings along this corridor. Among them, Yangjianbao should be considered a relatively important community of the grand Qadiriyya gongbei (Sufi shrine / mausoleum complex) in its early days. Aside from people surnamed Ma represented by Ma Ziyun, people surnamed Yang represented by Yang Hong should also belong to this gongbei order. The Bababasi Mosque in Langzhong still preserves plaques presented to it by Yang Hong and his son Yang Shizhang respectively. One reads: 'The Way Preserved in Universal Illumination,' and the other reads: 'Arriving at the Shore of the Dao.'
My assessment that Yangjianbao belonged to the grand gongbei (Sufi shrine / mausoleum complex) rather than the Yangmen system in its early days is based on the fact that although the Yangmen system also originated from Khwaja Abdullah, every generation before Patriarch Yang practiced self-cultivation individually and transmitted the lineage in a single line, almost without developing a large following. It wasn't until Patriarch Yang that the lineage flourished. Patriarch Yang only set foot in the Haigu region to preach during the Xianfeng and Tongzhi eras. Therefore, the people of Yangjianbao prior to the Qianlong and Jiaqing eras must have maintained ties with the Qi Jingyi lineage, which guarded the tomb of Khwaja Abdullah. Moreover, Qi Jingyi's Dharma-brother Ma Shenyi was also a native of Majiazhuang. Finally, it was only after the Yangmen order rose to prominence in the Haigu region that Yangjianbao might have severed its ties with the grand gongbei (Sufi shrine / mausoleum complex)—though this is merely a conjecture.
Jiucaiping is not far from Xumi Mountain and can be considered the ancestral home of the Ningxia Yangmen. When I was a child, I only knew this place as Jiucaiping (Leek Flat). I don't know when it became Jiucaiping (Nine-Color Flat)—perhaps 'Jiucaiping' with the character for 'color' is an elegant refinement of 'Leek Flat,' or perhaps 'Leek Flat' was a corruption of the name. Legend has it that Patriarch Yang stepped foot here nine times; I wonder if that is a beautiful embellishment for the refined name. However, there is no doubt that Patriarch Yang used this place as his base for propagating the faith in the Haigu region.
The peculiar thing about Jiucaiping is that in the middle of a small plain embraced by mountains, a round, bulging little hill rises up, which locals vividly call 'Geda Mountain' (Lump Mountain). Geda Mountain buries the fifth patriarchs of the Yangmen tradition. It is the master of Patriarch Yang's grandfather, and Patriarch Yang's sacred remains were also temporarily interred on Geda Mountain. After the 1920 Haiyuan earthquake, Patriarch Yang's remains were moved back to Xining by followers from Qinghai.
A series of tangled and muddled historical controversies arose around Patriarch Yang's sacred remains. To summarize the main points: first, Patriarch Yang attained *wafat* (passed away) in Houzihe, northern Xining, and was buried there. Afterward, people from Ningxia quietly moved him to Geda Mountain. After the earthquake, he returned to Houzihe, and during the Cultural Revolution, he was quietly transferred to Lele Heyi in Datong, Qinghai, where he has remained a closely guarded secret ever since. These are considered the three rises and falls of this story. Along the way, there were various minor twists and turns too numerous to mention, and to this day there is no definitive conclusion. Naturally, one can understand the scramble for his blessed *ziyarat* (tomb/shrine) to gain blessings, but viewed from a deeper perspective, the pure light of the *mazar* (tomb/shrine) shines eternally, and fragrant breezes blow; Houzihe has Patriarch Yang, Heyi has Patriarch Yang, and Jiucaiping certainly has Patriarch Yang. There is no need to argue over who is superior.
The special feature of the Yangmen tradition is its lineage of single-line transmission across seven generations. The self-narrated lineage of Yangmen comes from Khwaja Abdullah, who passed it to Patriarch Ma of Yunnan. In terms of seniority, this Patriarch Ma was a Dharma-brother of the same generation as Qi Jingyi. Subsequently, Patriarch Ma of Yunnan passed it to Zhou of Gongchang; Zhou of Gongchang passed it to Ma of Guangdamen in Xi'an; Ma of Guangdamen passed it to Feng of Gedashan in Xi'an; Feng of Gedashan passed it to An of Beijiyuan; and An of Beijiyuan passed it to Patriarch Yang of Xining, making Patriarch Yang the seventh patriarch.
Apart from Khwaja Abdullah, the deeds of the generations from Patriarch Ma of Yunnan all the way to Patriarch Feng of Gedashan are not very clear; most of the time, they existed merely as names acting as links in this golden chain. The profile of Patriarch An is relatively clear, and the life trajectory of Patriarch Yang is completely transparent. This closely resembles the appearance of early Zen Buddhism: although Zen claims to have been transmitted from Bodhidharma through five generations to Huineng, where it blossomed and bore fruit, in reality, the profiles of the four patriarchs before the Fifth Patriarch Hongren are quite murky, seemingly existing only in legends.
The true founder of this Yunnan Ma lineage should be credited to the Seventh Patriarch, Yang Baoyuan. Patriarch Yang gathered the essence of the tradition, allowing this single-line transmitted order to branch out and flourish while simultaneously sealing it. That is to say, the era of the Patriarchs ended; after Patriarch Yang, there would no longer be an Eighth Patriarch. Even if there were individuals with great achievements afterward, they could no longer enter this sequence. This may seem baffling and kept me conflicted for a very long time, but seen from today's perspective, it is easily explained: the classical era completely ended during the time of Patriarch Yang. Compared to the classical era, the new era that the world entered after the late Qing dynasty seems like another dimension entirely.
Taking a careful look at the Yangmen tradition, more than half of the patriarchs from Khwaja Abdullah downward are people from the Xi'an-Guanzhong region. This demonstrates how deeply rooted Gedemu (traditional Islamic education/community) culture nourished the growth of Sufism. After all, prior to the Tongzhi Hui Revolt, the economy and culture of Xi'an and Guanzhong Hui Muslims ranked among the very best in all of China. This brings us back to the subtle relationship between Gedemu and Sufism; I think we can discuss this when we talk about the Xi'an Muslim Quarter (Huifang) another time.
Today's Jiucaiping is no longer just a dirt lump amidst thousands of mountains, but the realization of everyone's united effort to turn loess into gold. What is most admirable is the lush greenery covering Geda Mountain. Looking around at the surrounding barren mountains—which resemble a sea of loess—Geda Mountain stands like a green island in the middle of the sea. This is entirely due to the meticulous cultivation by the late Director Li Degui. Amidst the rustling of pine waves, the fifth patriarch, Feng, and various subsequent directors sleep in peace.
Below Geda Mountain sits the *daotang* (religious hall) of the Yangmen, featuring a massive fortress-like wall—the product of closing doors for self-preservation to resist soldiers and bandits during turbulent times. I have seen past photos of this religious hall; its exposed rammed-earth walls bore the weathering of time and were quite striking. Visiting in person this time, however, it has been completely wrapped in brand-new cement bricks. What a pity, though this is also what the times demand; the fresh look certainly appears more modern. The school next to the religious hall is large enough to rival a middle school.
Several years ago, my grandfather came here, and the leader of the hall, Mu Fengwu, warmly introduced him to the place when the school was still a construction site. On the third day after I arrived in Jiucaiping, my grandfather passed away suddenly. Standing where my grandfather had once stood, how could I have imagined that two days later he would leave us forever? Thinking of that day still moves me; as I write these words, my grandfather has inevitably become my late grandfather. Both of he and I have been here, but it feels like a lifetime away.
I asked an attendant at the entrance of the religious hall, who told me that hall leader Mu Fengwu was not there, so I didn't go inside to tour the hall, but I took a good look at the school instead. Everything about the religious hall shows that Mu Fengwu is a leader striving for prosperity. After all, the *hukm* (divine command/call of the times) and opportunities are different from the era of Master Li Degui. Master Li Degui's era, much like that of my late grandfather, could only accomplish one thing: survive. Survival wasn't for oneself, but to preserve the faith!
Sufism and *menhuan* (Sufi orders / brotherhoods) in the new era face immense external and internal challenges—challenges far too complex to explain in just a few words here. Seeing such a grand school in Jiucaiping made it very clear to me how Sufism internally reacts to these challenges. With knowledge and information exploding everywhere, is the traditional Sufi method of rigorous silence, oral transmission heart-to-heart, and avoiding written texts inevitably facing a threat? In the past, people spent ten years walking before a master just to beg for a single spiritual realization. Do people today have that kind of time and patience? In the past, attaining a single spiritual realization took a lifetime of effort—earned through staying up half the night, waking at the crow of the rooster, and kneeling until one's feet bled. Is it now earned through casual small talk in upscale tea rooms with high-class friends? In the past, dedicating one's whole life to strictly observing a single classic was enough for a lifetime; today, is devouring the *Siku Quanshu* (Complete Library in Four Branches of Literature) and the Buddhist Tripitaka still considered not enough?
At any time, the transmission of knowledge is necessary, and studying to understand principles will always be the fastest channel for elevation. A scholar without spiritual practice (*amal*) is still better than an ignorant practitioner. Ignorant asceticism leads only to destruction, whereas scholarship without practice still holds value. Without knowledge, it is absolutely impossible; but to make a superstition of knowledge is the greatest tragedy of our era. Sufism cannot be without knowledge; many forms of Sufi deviation stem from a lack of knowledge, leaving individuals to act on their own ego and turning spontaneous spiritual practice into ego-driven practice. How many Sufis have stumbled precisely into the quagmire of knowledge, mistaking the illusion for the truth and refusing to disembark once reaching the other shore? True Sufism transcends the dualistic opposition between knowledge and ignorance.
As I left Jiucaiping, I suddenly recalled a statement Patriarch Yang made when describing his own experiences: 'I too have mingled in the secular world and opened schools; I too have expounded the law and debated the rights and wrongs of the Dao. These idle conversations shall never be spoken again.' Patriarch Yang and the six patriarchs before him were all great scholars, yet without exception, they ultimately rejected their scholarly careers and walked the path of silent, unwritten self-cultivation. This is the unique temperament of the Qadiriyya and the foundational ethos of the Yangmen school.
After all, Patriarch Yang was too clear-headed, knowing that one era differs from another, which is why there are no more patriarchs after the Seventh Patriarch. A gust of wind swept by, my WeChat chimed, and my friends in Haiyuan were urging me on. I continued my journey northward.
—END—
