I am profoundly moved and concomitantly humbled by the care my students and colleagues—friends all—have devoted to producing this volume. It ranges from consideration of large historical and philosophical questions (the Way) to careful analyses of how we can know so much of the Chinese past (the Words) whether passed down on bamboo, silk, paper, or stone. But how to properly respond in a way that would both honor the contributors and (perhaps) interest the readers who will come to consult their contributions? At first, I contemplated composing what J. Z. Smith called “that awkwardly entitled genre,” the bio-bibliographical essay. But, after reading the lively and informative essays assembled here, I realized that I wanted to play as well. That is, I wanted to contribute something from my recent scholarship.

At the same time, I wanted to take this opportunity to share a bit of my long experience studying and writing about the organized Chinese religion we call Daoism. After all, it seems to me, we who are engaged in this study have not been doing a very effective job of communicating our findings. This is understandable, I think. It is an impossible job. Trying to comprehend Daoism is like being the blind persons who were set the task of describing the elephant—not just because the Daoist elephant is huge and formed quite differently from other, more familiar, quadrupeds, but because it keeps morphing. Sometimes it’s a Kirin, sometimes an Indian elephant, sometimes a Chinese dragon, and sometimes a more practical water buffalo.