《冲虚至德真经四解(高守元)》Vol. 3

When a tendency reaches its extreme, it turns to its opposite—this is an inevitable law. When things develop to an extreme, they shift toward the contrary aspect; this is an inevitable regularity.

Now there is no longer any distinction between adverse and favorable in my mind, and so birds and beasts regard me as one of their own kind. For this reason, the birds and beasts that play in my garden no longer long for tall forests and open wilds; those that rest in my courtyard do not wish to go to deep mountains and secluded valleys—this is brought about by principle.

The reason the sage can mold and transform the myriad things, enabling each to attain its own nature, is just like a skilled tamer who is good at raising birds and beasts and keeps them from harming one another.

Lu Chongxuan comments: the physical forms and constitutions of the myriad things differ, but Shen (spirit) and Qi (vital energy) are no different. Thus Zhuangzi says: viewed from the perspective of difference, the liver and gallbladder are as distant as Chu and Yue; viewed from the perspective of sameness, the myriad things are one whole. The perfected person—one of the highest moral cultivation—attunes Shen and Qi to the myriad things. When birds join their flocks, they do not disturb their ranks; when beasts join their herds, they do not disturb their groups. This is because such a person shares the mind and will of the myriad things and does not conflict with them whether circumstances are favorable or adverse. Therefore fierce beasts can be tamed, and seagulls can be approached. The reason birds and beasts go deep into mountain forests and secluded valleys is that they wish to preserve themselves and stay far from harm by humans. If they had no such anxiety, what difference would there be between gardens and courtyards and mountain forests?

Zhenghe Commentary:

The softest thing under Heaven can gallop freely through the hardest thing under Heaven; this is precisely the principle by which the sage achieves the great victory. Tigers and wolves are the fiercest of beasts, while eagles and ospreys are the most skilled at seizing among birds. Animals of different species live together without fighting and biting one another, and can dwell at ease within gardens and courtyards, because there are methods for nurturing and taming them. In human beings, the true condition of nature and life (that is, the reality of human nature and life) becomes peaceful when followed. If joy and anger are excessive, the Qi of Yin-Yang becomes disordered and disturbs itself. If one opposes it and provokes its anger, how can that still be following the true condition of nature and life? Therefore tiger keepers must grasp the timing of its hunger and fullness and vent its anger; their aim is nothing more than following its true condition of nature and life.

I dare not oppose it and make it angry—this is called not going against its natural disposition; nor do I follow it and make it joyful—this is called not excessively indulging its natural disposition. After joy there is necessarily a turn to anger, and after anger there is often a turn back to joy; these are all faults of the Dao. Now my mind makes no distinction between opposing and following: I neither go against its nature and provoke anger nor indulge its nature and make it joyful, and they naturally dwell in peace and ease, as is only right. When the sage nourishes life, he does not allow feelings of liking and disliking to injure himself; extending this to nurturing the myriad things and harmonizing the world, what other principle is there? It is simply this.

Fan Commentary:

Creatures of blood and Qi cannot be without joy and anger. Thus for birds and beasts and other kinds, their feelings of joy and anger often change according to whether people oppose or accommodate them. One skilled at keeping tigers dares not oppose it and provoke its anger, nor follow it and make it joyful; for this reason the beast looks upon him as a companion. Then the dangers of the human world and the decline of the human way are inherently more serious than keeping tigers. Only the sage, in his dealings with the world, harms no external things; therefore no external thing can harm him. The parable in Zhuangzi, in the chapter “In the Human World,” also contains a saying about keeping tigers; it is probably intended precisely to explain this principle.

Final Sentence of the Scripture:

The sentence “Yan Hui asked Zhongni, saying: ‘I, who keep tigers…’” is a fragment; one can only see that it introduces the discussion of keeping tigers in the “In the Human World” chapter of Zhuangzi. The way of keeping tigers in “In the Human World” is roughly as follows: the tiger keeper feeds it at regular times and does not give it whole living creatures, so as to avoid arousing its killing intent; this illustrates that only by following the other’s nature can one avoid harm.

Yan Hui asked Confucius, saying, “I once crossed a dangerous deep pool called Shangshen, where the boatman handled the boat with a skill that seemed divine. I asked him, ‘Can this skill of boat-handling be learned?’ The boatman said, ‘Yes. One who can swim can be taught, and one who is good at swimming often grasps it very quickly.’”

Xiang Xiu’s commentary says: “‘Shu neng’ means being able from birth; it means that people of this kind are thoroughly proficient in this art and naturally do not fear riding in a boat.”

As for those who dive to the bottom of the water, they have never seen a boat, yet they can maneuver in the water with ease, as if they were born knowing how.

Lu Chongxuan’s commentary says: One who is good at handling a boat can learn it; one who is good at floating becomes skillful through repeated practice. As for the diver, who has never seen a boat yet can handle one, this is because his spirit accords with the Dao, and others cannot contravene it.

The Zhenghe commentary says: His boat-handling is like the divine because his Dao can ferry and save the world, and ordinary people cannot fathom it. “One who can swim can be taught” means that he is not deluded by external things. “One who is good at swimming is shu neng” means that he has long applied effort in this art. As for the diver, who has never seen a boat yet can handle one, this is so profound and mysterious that it cannot be explained clearly. Yan Hui asked but Confucius did not answer because this Dao, having reached this level, cannot be told to others in words.

Confucius said: You and I have savored these words for a long time, yet we have not grasped their substance. Let me speak of it here for now. To see that boat-handling can be learned is merely to savor the words; not to have understood the diver’s “natural ability” is still not to have touched the substance. Now I will explain it clearly to you.

“One who can swim can be taught” because he can regard the water lightly; “one who is good at swimming is shu neng” because he forgets the water. Having forgotten the water, he has no hesitancy or fear.

(Note: The Chongxu Zhide Zhenjing is the Liezi; this passage comes from the “Dasheng” chapter of the Liezi. Shangshen was the name of a dangerous deep pool in ancient times.)

First Section: The Realm of the Good Swimmer

Those skilled at diving may never have seen a boat, yet as soon as they take one in hand they can steer it. They regard the deep abyss as they would level ground, and they regard a boat capsizing as ordinary as a cart rolling backward. Even the overturning and destruction of the myriad things, placed right before their eyes, cannot enter their minds.

Second Section: The Dwelling of Shenming

“Shenming” refers to the spirit and the mind; “she” is the place where the spirit and mind reside. Because it is where the spirit and mind dwell, it is called “she.”

Third Section: The Mind Without Hindrance

Where, then, could such a person go and lack leisure? For everything they encounter allows them to be calm and at ease. If a tile is used as the object of a throw, one merely concentrates on displaying skill; if a belt hook is used, fear arises in the mind; if gold is used, one becomes dazed and uneasy.

“Kou” means throwing at one another. Guo Xiang’s commentary says: the more important the thing to be obtained, the more restrained the mind becomes.

Lu Chongxuan’s Explanation

Lu Chongxuan holds that to see others steering a boat and think one can learn it is merely to admire its outward form. If one truly grasps its subtle essence, one will be like the good swimmer: one regards water as flat ground, and even if the boat capsizes and people drown, this will not invade the spirit and mind. When people are free of worry, wherever they go they are leisurely and self-possessed. In throwing with a tile, one only cares about skill; even if one hits the mark, one does not mind losing a tile. In throwing with a hook, one does not focus on skill; one fears both hitting the mark and losing the hook. In throwing with gold, one dares not hope to hit the mark and only worries about losing the gold. Thus the earlier excellence lay in forgetting external things, while the later fear is attachment to external things. This shows that if a person is constrained by external things, they will fail on both sides; in greedily seeking external things, they instead lose their own life.

A Guo Xiang-Style Summary

Skill is originally one and the same, but to have something held in the mind is to value external things. Whoever values external things will have their inner mind bound.

The State of Forgetting Inner and Outer

Only by forgetting the distinction between inner and outer and not calculating light and heavy, gain and loss, can one be without the distinction between cleverness and clumsiness.

Zhenghe’s Commentary

“Jin” and “yi” are interchangeable. The term “physician” carries the sense of “intention.” This sentence means that there is a principle for remedying one’s mistakes. Only one who can roam freely within it can guard the inner mind.

Summary Again

Only by forgetting inner and outer and making no distinction between light and heavy is there no difference between skill and clumsiness.

The commentator “Zhenghe” says: “‘Jin’ and ‘yi’ are interchangeable, both being sounds of sighing. The word written as ‘medicine’ is to be understood as ‘intention,’ carrying the sense of using it to remedy a fault. Those who can swim can be instructed, because they take water lightly; thus even when they fall into water, their bodies are not submerged. One skilled at swimming has superior technique because he forgets the water; therefore he treads the water and moves, merging with the patterns of water and not altering himself. As for the man who has never seen a boat yet can steer one, this is because things and self are as one, and he does not doubt his actions. The terrors of life and death cannot enter his breast, much less the entanglements of profit and harm. Thus he regards an abyss as level ground and a capsized boat as an overturned cart. The myriad things may be displayed in profusion before his eyes, yet they cannot enter the dwelling of his mind; wherever he goes, he is amply at ease. Those whose inward reliance on the Dao is shallow are easily changed outwardly by external things. Thus one who throws with a tile is skillful; one who throws with a belt hook is afraid; one who throws with gold is dazed. Earlier Confucians held that throwing at one another to seize an object was called ‘kou’; it was probably a game such as drawing counters or throwing a belt hook. The heavier the object one strives for, the more tense and guarded the mind becomes. Hence with a tile one can display skill; with a hook fear arises; with gold one becomes dazed and confused. Fear is merely the fear of losing it; as for being dazed, it is as though one has already lost oneself. Therefore one who values external things binds his inner mind; when the mind is bound, it is tethered to something and cannot be at peace and self-content.

The commentator “Fan” says: In ancient times, those who rode upon Dao and De and wandered freely emptied themselves and had no entanglements; they removed distracting thoughts, so there was nothing in their minds. Guarding the spirit and dispelling distracting thoughts, they left external things no way to intrude; wherever they went, how could they fail to be at ease? Once the mind becomes guarded about something, how could it avoid the affliction of inner dullness and obstruction?

The sentence “Confucius viewed [the waterfall] at Lüliang” is a lead-in in the “Dasheng” chapter of the Zhuangzi. It describes how at Lüliang the water plunges from a height of thirty ren; the spray splashes in all directions and stretches far, so that even soft-shelled turtles, Chinese alligators, fish, and turtles cannot swim in it.

Confucius went to observe at Lüliang. There the waterfall plunged down from a height of thirty ren (an ancient unit of length, one ren being about eight chi), and the foam on the water could drift out for thirty li. Even great soft-shelled turtles, yuan and tuo (a kind of large reptile), and fish could not swim there. Confucius saw a man swimming in the rushing current and, thinking he was in difficulty and wanted to die, sent his disciples along the current to rescue him. The man swam several hundred paces and then came out of the water by himself, his hair loose, singing as he walked and strolling along the base of the embankment.

Confucius went up to him and asked: “The Lüliang waterfall is thirty ren high, and its foam drifts out thirty li; even yuan, tuo, fish, and soft-shelled turtles cannot swim there. Earlier I saw you jump into the water and thought you had some distress and wanted to die, so I sent my disciples to save you. When you came out with your hair loose and singing, I even took you for a ghost; only on closer look did I realize you were a man. May I ask whether there is any knack to swimming in the water?”

The man said: “There is no knack. My way is this: at first I followed my original plain nature (gu); I grew up in the water and followed my inborn nature (xing); in the end I was brought to completion by destiny (ming). I enter with the whirlpools and come out with the surging flow. I simply follow the patterns of the water and do not mix in any private intention—this is my method.”

Confucius asked: “What do you mean by beginning with gu, growing through xing, and being completed by ming?”

The man said: “I was born among hills and mounds, and I am at ease among hills and mounds—this is gu. I grew up in the water, and I am at ease in the water—this is xing. When one accords with the principle of one’s inborn nature, the myriad things do not oppose one. As for why I am like this, I myself cannot explain it—this is ming.”

Lu’s commentary says: To be born in a highland and be at ease in a highland, and once accustomed to water to make it one’s normal condition—therefore it says “beginning with gu” and “growing through xing.” Having become accustomed to one’s original condition and at ease in one’s inborn nature, one suddenly accords with the wondrous Dao, and thereby fulfills heavenly destiny, attaining it without being conscious of it. Therefore the Zhouyi says, “Exhausting principle and fully realizing one’s nature, one reaches destiny”; “ming” means according with the wondrous Dao.

Key points: This passage uses the story of swimming to discuss the cultivation ideal of “following nature and acting without intentional mind.” “Gu” refers to what is original and plain by habit; “xing” refers to inborn nature; “ming” refers to the spontaneous necessity that cannot be fully understood by human effort. The “water” in the text symbolizes the Dao: if a person walks with the Dao and does not add private intentions, then one can be like a fish in water, safe and at ease even in dangerous situations.

One is the peril of Lüliang. Yuan (large softshell turtles), tuo (large aquatic animals of the Chinese alligator kind), fish, and turtles cannot swim in the rapids, yet a man could swim there because he had forgotten the danger of entering the water. Others therefore suspected he was a ghost or spirit, but on close observation he was still an ordinary person. His skill lay in complying with the nature of water and not mixing in private intentions: he sank with the descending current, rose with the whirlpools, and let nature take its course. This is “following the Dao of water without acting from private motives.” To be born in hills and mountains is to be at ease in hills and mountains and not go against the surroundings on which one depends; to grow up in water is to be at ease in water and not contravene one’s nature—that is all. What is called “naturalness” (ziran) means not being entangled by external things and not being altered by one’s own private intentions. No one can clearly explain the reason it is so, hence the saying “not knowing why it is so, yet it is so”; this is ming (fate).

Fan’s commentary explains: to be so because of something one relies on is “cause” (gu); to be naturally so without relying on anything is “nature” (xing); to be naturally so without knowing why is “fate” (ming). The man of Lüliang drifts up and down with the movement of the water and can swim where yuan, tuo, fish, and turtles cannot, not because he has any special ability, but because he can realize the great Dao and accord with the nature of water. From this it is clear that one who embodies the Dao can be peaceful and at ease wherever he goes.

Another is the hunchback catching cicadas. When Confucius went to Chu and came out of the woods, he saw a hunchbacked old man using a pole to catch cicadas, his movements as easy as picking something up. Confucius asked, “You are truly skillful—do you have some method?” The old man replied, “I do have a method.” He said: in the fifth and sixth months, if I stack two pellets on the tip of the pole without their falling, then my misses in catching cicadas are no more than a zīzhū—an extremely small unit of weight. Xiang Xiu’s commentary says: being able to stack two pellets without their dropping is because the hand is kept steady and one is careful; therefore errors in catching cicadas are only between zī and zhū.

Lu (the commentator) says: This is ridiculing the Confucian scholars. Those scholars in broad-sleeved long robes who teach the world with benevolence and righteousness make people everywhere scramble after fame and profit and labor their cleverness and calculations; they lose their original true nature and exhaust their spirit—how could they understand this great Dao (the Way)? You leave writings to later generations and again wish, by clever disputation of words, to write my great Dao into words; this cannot be done.

Zhenghe (the commentator) says: “Will” means singleness of mind; when concentrated to the utmost, it is Jing (essence). One who penetrates the great Dao has nothing he cannot accomplish.

The following cites the “catching cicadas” (cheng tiao) story from Zhuangzi, “Dasheng.” When the hunchbacked old man catches cicadas, his body is as steady as a tree stump and his arm as rigid as withered wood; he is silent and motionless, forgetting even his own body. Though heaven and earth are vast and the myriad things numerous, in his eyes there is only the cicada’s wing. He does not turn his head or glance sideways, and does not let external things divert his attention from the cicada’s wing; when the mind is single, external disturbances disappear. The longer he concentrates, the fewer his errors. At first his errors are only a tiny fraction (zizhu); after a long time they fall to one in ten; after still longer, catching them is as easy as picking something up. There is no other reason for this—only singleness of mind. Singleness of mind is Jing; only the purest person under heaven can penetrate the wondrous subtlety of the world. Thus it says, “When the will is not divided, it then coalesces into Shen (spirit),” meaning that when the mind is not scattered, the spirit can concentrate.

Fan (the commentator) says: Catching cicadas is only a minor skill, yet if the will is not divided one can reach the wondrous state of concentrated Shen. From this one may infer that the previously mentioned “guarding the pure Qi (vital energy)”—single-mindedly preserving primal Qi—also has the principle of undivided will.

The following passage tells of the man by the sea and the gulls: There was a man by the seashore who liked to play with gulls. Every morning he went to the shore and frolicked with the gulls. The gulls that came numbered in the hundreds and thousands, and they came continuously. The commentary holds that the character zhu in “bai zhu” should be shu, meaning gathering in flocks and assembling repeatedly.

The final sentence means: one whose mind is peaceful and whose form is gentle and compliant—even birds and beasts do not dislike him.

By the sea there was a youth who played every day with the seagulls (ou birds). His father said, “I hear the seagulls all play with you—catch one and bring it to me to play with.” The next day, when the youth went to the seaside, the seagulls circled in the air and would not come down again.

When the mind is stirred, the outer form changes accordingly; but if the form accords with nature, external things will not be averse to it. (As for the word zhu, “to stay or land,” one commentator holds that it should be understood as the word shu, “counting,” referring to calculation and a scheming mind.)

The father said the same thing again, and then another layer of meaning follows: once the mind moves, the outer form changes with it, and even birds can perceive it—how could human scheming be used to deceive?

Therefore it is said: the highest speech is speechlessness, and the highest action is Wuwei (non-action). Whatever can be understood by worldly cleverness is shallow in its level.

Only when words and actions are both forgotten do external things cease to be suspicious. To be limited by cleverness is to grow ever farther from the Dao.

Someone may wonder: the hunchbacked old man (the “old man” refers to the old man in the “Dasheng” chapter of the Zhuangzi who catches cicadas with a focused, motionless posture) adopts a deliberately contrived posture to catch cicadas, while the sea child (the seaside youth) lets his original mind roam and play with the seagulls. The two seem opposed, yet the sea child did not alarm external things. The fundamental purport of each formulation differs; on the surface they seem to contradict each other, but their final destination is no different. It is probably because the old man understood the concentration of the mind and could still keep external things undisturbed—how much more those who are profoundly united with nature and whose forms are like wood and stone?

As for the sea child, sincerity fills him within and openness shows without. Although he has not yet reached the point of forgetting both benefit and harm and eliminating all suspicion, he does not distinguish his own kind from other kinds, and so the seagulls do not become wary of him. Both similes use nearby things to verify a distant principle and use branch details to explain the root.

Lü Chongxuan (a Tang-dynasty Daoist and one of the commentators on this book) says: When spiritual consciousness is in mutual accord, one may communicate through rational principle, but one cannot know through emotion. If one knows through emotion, then even flesh-and-blood kin will grow suspicious of one another; if one communicates through rational principle, then there is no barrier among the myriad things, and only thus can one apprehend the subtle principle. To be one with the myriad things lies in the mutual accord of spiritual consciousness; to be of the same company as sentient beings lies in the melting away of emotion. To wish to boast of one’s own mind alone is to be far from the Great Dao.

Those in ancient times who understood the Great Dao set aside a cunning and deceitful mind and forgot calculating, opportunistic thoughts, keeping their inner hearts pure and unadorned. Thus when they entered among wild beasts, the herds were not startled or thrown into confusion; when they flew into flocks of birds, the flocks did not break formation. Even birds and beasts held no guard against them—how much less would human beings? This was because their hearts originally held no calculating mind, and so outer things naturally did not suspect them.

Once the nature of purity and truth suffers deficiency, clever and calculating intelligence multiplies; birds therefore learn to fly high to avoid the harm of bird nets (zeng) and corded arrows (yi). The ou birds on the sea—a kind of seabird that comes and goes like bubbles on water—only circled and danced in the air and would not come down to land, precisely because a calculating mind had already arisen in their hearts. The sage does not govern the world by relying on cleverness and intelligence: when he speaks, he leaves no trace of words; when he acts, he leaves no trace of artificial contrivance. If one relies only on one's own wisdom to discriminate among all things, one's insight becomes shallow and thin, and one departs far from the Great Dao.

Zhao Xiangzi led a hundred thousand soldiers on a hunt in Zhongshan and set fire to the forest; the flames spread for over a hundred li. Suddenly a man walked out from a stone wall, moving up and down amid the smoke and dust. Everyone thought he was a ghost or monster. After the great fire passed, he walked out slowly, as if he had experienced nothing at all. Xiangzi found this strange and kept him there to observe him closely: his outer form, complexion, and seven apertures were no different from those of ordinary people, and his breathing and the sound of his speech were human. Xiangzi asked him how he lived inside the stone and how he walked into the fire. The man asked in return: What is stone? What is fire? He said that he was not aware of stone and fire at all—how then could they obstruct him? Xiangzi said, “The place you just came out of was a stone wall; the place you just passed through was a great fire.” The man said, “I do not know.”

This “not knowing” of external things reached its utmost, and only thus could he do this.

When Marquis Wen of Wei heard of this, he asked Zixia, “What sort of person is this?” Zixia said, “I have heard the Master (Confucius) say that one whose heart is inwardly harmonious and yielding can merge with the ten thousand things, and no thing can harm or obstruct him. He can pass through metal and stone and tread over water and fire—all this is possible.” The Marquis asked, “Why do you not go and attain this?” Zixia said, “To eliminate mental activity and cast away cleverness—I am not yet able to do that. However, if you have leisure, I can explain the principle to you.”

(Note: “Hollowing out the heart and discarding wisdom” (kuxin quzhi) is a Daoist cultivation ideal; it refers to removing discriminatory thoughts and cunning from the mind, which is what the Zhuangzi calls the “Fasting of the Mind” (Xinzhai).)

The meaning of this passage is: using mental activity to eliminate mental activity, using cleverness to discard cleverness—the entanglements of mind and intellect have indeed been exhausted, but the trace of having discarded mind and intellect still remains. From this it can be known that the highest principle is not to be realized by the mind or attained through forgetting; if one is to explain it clearly, there is still much that can be said.

Lu Chongxuan’s commentary says: The previous chapter speaks of people swimming in water without being obstructed; this chapter speaks of people treading on burning stones without being burned. Many in the world learn to swim, but few dare to tread on fire. This is because people’s understanding is easily biased, so fire is used again to clarify the principle. Those who cultivate the Dao forget their own bodies within and forget all things without; therefore they do not think about why stones obstruct or why fire burns. Marquis Wen of Wei did not understand this principle, so he asked. Zixia had ordinarily understood these principles, and so he answered well. Marquis Wen then pressed him: “Since you, sir, can do it, why do you not do it?”

Zixia said: “I merely understand it and can speak about it; that is already sufficient. If I were to practice and verify it personally, I could not yet do so.”

Marquis Wen asked: “Why do you not do it, sir?” Zixia said: “The Master is one who can do it but chooses not to.” Marquis Wen was very pleased to hear this.

Then Marquis Wen raised another set of questions: “In the world, are there those who can do it but can refrain from doing it, those who can do it but cannot refrain from doing it, those who cannot do it but insist on doing it, and those who do not do it and yet naturally can refrain from doing it?” Zixia still answered: “The Master is one who can do it but chooses not to.” Marquis Wen was greatly delighted again.

In the world, some people can do something but do not do it; some can do it but, unable to act otherwise, must do it; some cannot do it yet force themselves to do it; and some do not deliberately act, yet succeed naturally. As for sages, what they do and do not do, what they can and cannot do, all accord with nature. They follow the world in its ups and downs, rising or falling with things, and never deliberately display wondrous powers or extraordinary signs; the most mysterious part of their body and mind they do not reveal even one part in ten thousand.

From the opening of this scroll to this point, what is expounded is the principle of according with heavenly nature and the pattern of life: not to be entangled by emotions such as joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure; to be single-minded and yielding; to be sincere in heart without duplicity. Such a person can stand in water and fire without being drowned or burned, pass through grass, trees, mountains, and rocks without obstruction, encounter blades without injury, and walk through dangerous places without falling. The myriad things do not oppose his will, and when he enters a herd of beasts he does not disturb them. His Shen (spirit) can roam alone, his body can rise lightly, his ears can hear distant sounds, and his eyes can see through dark places. These statements seem contrary to common sense and are truly astonishing.

Let me therefore attempt to discuss it: Yin-Yang alternate and transform, and the Five Phases (the Five Powers) generate and nourish one another. Metal and Earth stand in the mother-child relation of mutual generation, while Water and Fire check one another through dryness and dampness. Human nature has both stillness and agitation, each following its own course; in rising and descending, conditions differ according to each one’s capacity. Thus some birds can soar high in the clouds, some fish can lurk in the deep, some rats can frolic in fire, and some insects can hide within wood. Why? Because cold, heat, dryness, and dampness each have their proper suitability; if one only settles securely in one place, one will be trapped in other environments.

As for the Perfected Person (zhiren), his mind joins with primordial Qi—the original vital energy at the very beginning of the generation of heaven, earth, and the myriad things—and his body is in harmonious communication with Yin-Yang. He does not correspond only to one shape, nor does he adapt only to one temperature. With Shen (spirit) settled and breath harmonious, wherever he dwells all is favorable; thus none of the various external things can oppose him, and cold and heat cannot harm him. This is called containing profound De (Virtue/Power; hande), reaching the utmost of harmony. Laozi says, “always without a place of death.” Could it be that this is preserved only by deliberately choosing and rejecting, advancing and retreating? Therefore stepping into water and fire, riding clouds and mist, climbing high and perilous places, and entering military formations—none of these is worth marveling at.

Lu Chongxuan (a Tang-dynasty Daoist commentator) says: This means that Confucius (the Master) had the capacity but did not put it into practice; he wished to use benevolence, righteousness, ritual propriety, and the way of ruler and minister to rescue the declining customs of the age, and not merely to cultivate himself alone and keep company with birds and beasts.

When the mind aligns with the Dao (the Way) and becomes one with it, there is no longer any distinction between self and other; when the body transforms along with the myriad things, the countless changes are no different from the Dao. When things and I stand in mutual opposition, contact with things gives rise to duality. If one harmonizes this through natural boundaries (tianni: the principle of nature), why seek distinctions elsewhere? Things and I arise from the same root; other and self return to unity. With no opposition between empty and solid, one can enter and emerge from stone walls without obstruction; with no friction between benefit and harm, the smoke, fire, and ashes above and below cannot injure him. Therefore it is said that the person of harmony is greatly one with the myriad things, and the myriad things cannot harm him. What is called “without obstruction” means being able to roam amid metal and stone and tread upon water and fire.

Zixia (Bu Shang, a disciple of Confucius) understood this principle but was unable to put it into practice; Confucius was able to do it but did not do it. This is probably because the Dao is not something that people with cunning minds can easily attain, nor is it something that people without deliberate mind can quickly approach. Thus Zixia spoke of “cutting away cunning and discarding cleverness,” yet he himself had not yet done so. The sage hides the Dao within naturalness and does not display himself; therefore Confucius’s being able to do it but not doing it is precisely true attainment of the Dao. Those who laboriously roam among metal and stone and tread upon water and fire, believing themselves to possess the Dao—their Dao sets itself against the ordinary world and merely gives people something to compare. Therefore, when the Liezi recounts the ways of the various schools, at this point it exalts Confucius as the most complete and comprehensive synthesizer.

The meaning of Fan’s surviving sentence is: stone is hard, and so it can become an obstacle; fire is fierce, and so it can injure people. If one clings to such external things, one’s Dao will set itself against the ordinary world and merely allow people to compare it.

The commentator Master Fan says: Stone is solid and can obstruct; fire is fierce and skilled at burning. If one can touch solid things without any obstruction, then even when passing out through a stone wall one does not regard it as stone; if one can step into fire without feeling its heat, then even when tossed up and down with smoke and ashes one does not regard it as fire. To cultivate this Dao and sit upright in meditative absorption, one must be in harmony and unity with all things before one can do so. Broadly speaking, only by transcending the turmoil of the human world and viewing all things as one can one pass through metal and stone, tread on water and fire, and be unobstructed wherever one goes. If one merely wants to cut away the miscellaneous thoughts in the mind but fails to attain emptiness and the absence of things; if one merely wants to remove cunning intelligence but fails to unite with the Dao of Great Penetration—then although one hears others explain it, one still cannot truly do it. Liezi could do it but did not consider himself able; presumably he had something attained in his heart and was naturally so.

In the state of Zheng there was a spirit shaman who came from the state of Qi and settled in Zheng. His name was Ji Xian (a shaman famous for divination and prophecy). He could calculate a person’s life and death, survival and ruin, misfortune and blessing, and lifespan, precisely to the year and month and even to the ten-day period, like a god. When the people of Zheng saw him, they all avoided him for fear of not getting away in time.

Xiang Xiu (a Wei-Jin Xuanxue commentator) notes: This is because people do not wish to hear the date of their death.

When Liezi saw Ji Xian, he was entranced. Xiang Xiu notes: This means he was deluded by his technique and lost the true Dao. Liezi went back and told his teacher Huqiu Zi (that is, Hu Zi, Liezi’s master), saying: At first I thought the Master’s Dao was already the highest, but now I have seen something even higher. Guo Xiang (a commentator) notes: This says that Ji Xian’s Dao had surpassed the Master’s.

Hu Zi said: What you and I have obtained is only the outward form of the Dao; we have not yet obtained its substance. How can you say you have attained the Dao? If there is only a female bird and no male bird, how can eggs be produced?

Xiang Xiu notes: Substance is made manifest through outward form, and the Dao is made clear through affairs. To have the Dao but no affairs is like having only the female and no male. Now you and I, though differing in depth, both stand in the position of substance, and so there is no outward form by which we may illuminate each other; therefore I have not yet fully revealed the substance of my Dao. This means that when the utmost person initiates something, there must be a stimulus before there is a response.

If one wishes to use the Dao to contend with the mundane world, one must be truly sincere and substantial; only then can one let others perceive one’s condition.

Xiang Xiu’s Commentary: If a person has no fixed, unchanging way of acting that is sufficient to inspire trust in the world, others can only infer from his outward appearance and “read his face” for him. This means that what the Perfected Person (zhiren, one who has cultivated the Dao to an extremely high level) advocates must await stimulation by external things before anyone responds.

If one sets the Dao in opposition to the ordinary world and establishes a separate school, it becomes easier for people to believe, and so they can discern the details from his words and deeds.

Lu (Lu Chongxuan)’s Commentary: Liezi (a Daoist figure of the Warring States period, after whom the book Liezi is named) saw the shaman of Zheng, Jixian (who could calculate a person’s life and death, fortune and misfortune), and his mind was mesmerized by him, believing that the entire mystery of the great Dao lay in such predictions.

Huqiu Zi’s (Liezi’s teacher’s) criticism: You and I have not even grasped the outer traces (wenji) of the great Dao, let alone its true principle—how could you obtain my Dao? To clarify and quiet the spirit, utterly still and free of anxious thought, is like having only the female without the male; to act in affairs and achieve results is like the male. Now you stop your affairs to quiet your mind, yet you wish to obtain eggs without borrowing the male—how could that be possible? You even wish to take the supreme Dao and contend with a vulgar shaman; then you are too attached to belief, and instead you let ghostly beings (here referring to the ghosts and spirits on which shamanic arts rely) see through you.

“The Zhenghe Explanation Is Found in the Zhuangzi”: This entry notes the source; the relevant explanation is found in the Zhuangzi. See the story in the Zhuangzi, “Ying Diwang,” in which Jixian physiognomizes Liezi.

Master Fan holds that “Shen” (spirit) is the power that enables the myriad things to display their mystery, while “wu” (shaman) is one who falsely relies on the will of Shen to transmit messages to people. Death and life, survival and destruction, misfortune and blessing, longevity and early death—even if these can be calculated within a few months or a few tens of days, they only appear mysterious; they do not count as true divine wonder. Since he was called a “spirit-shaman” (shenwu) and also named Ji Xian (a spirit-shaman in the Liezi), this shows that he merely borrowed the wonder of external things in order to produce responses.

Once Ji Xian had such responses, he had mental intentions. He used his own mind to stir the minds of others, and his own views to peer into the views of others; thus death and life, survival and destruction, misfortune and blessing, longevity and early death—these eight matters—all became empty and false labels. Since the labels were already false, he recklessly added what he saw and recklessly added what he said, while people in the world clung to appearances and could not transcend the false, and blindly believed and accepted them, taking them as real. That is why, when Liezi saw him, he abandoned his teacher and left.

When Liezi saw Ji Xian, he was intoxicated and entranced, which shows that he had not yet subdued his own mind. He had obtained Huqiu Zi’s Dao, but had not yet cut off his attachment to learning. This is only to have obtained the words of Dao, not yet to have obtained its substance.

Dao originally has no concrete form, yet none of the myriad things is not a manifestation of Dao. Dao is “empty and void,” and no thing can match it—like having only the female and no male. If one alone guards a little attainment and hides it in one’s breast, it is like having no male yet vainly laying eggs: in the end nothing can be accomplished. If one wishes to use Dao to contend with the world and yet clings to this, one cannot stand in the unfathomable place or roam in the realm of nonbeing, and thus allows others to see through to one’s depths.

The following passage says: Hu Zi (Liezi’s teacher) said, “Try bringing Ji Xian here and let me show him.” The next day, Liezi brought Ji Xian to see Hu Zi. After Ji Xian came out, he said to Liezi, “Alas, your master is about to die; he will not live…”

Liezi once tried to bring Jixian to read Huzi’s physiognomy. The next day, Liezi and Jixian went together to see Huzi. After Jixian came out, he said to Liezi: “Alas, your master is about to die; he cannot live. Within ten days. I saw a strange appearance, deathly still like wet ashes.” After Liezi went inside, he wept until tears soaked his clothes and bedding, and told Huzi what had been said. Huzi said: “What I showed him just now was the ‘Earthly Pattern’ (a state as silent and motionless as the earth, showing no sign of vitality).”

Xiang Xiu comments: (Huzi) remained alone in a lumpish inertness, like a heap of earth.

“Zui hu, bu zhen bu zhi”—“Guilt/crime?—neither shaken nor stopped” (in some editions the word zui, “guilt/crime,” is written meng, “sprout”):

Xiang Xiu comments: It sprouts and stirs but does not move, nor does it stop of itself. Like a withered tree, it does not blossom; like dead ashes, it is silent and without soul. This is the time when the perfected person (one whose cultivation has reached its utmost) has no response to things. When the perfected person moves, he is like the movement of Heaven; when still, like the stillness of Earth; when flowing, like water; when deep, like an abyss. The silence of the abyss and the flow of water, the movement of Heaven and the stillness of Earth, are one in “not acting yet being naturally so.” Now Jixian saw Huzi sitting quietly like a corpse, having forgotten himself, and said he was going to die; when he saw Huzi’s spirit active and complying with the changes of the heavenly Dao, he said he had vitality. If one can respond to things without a mind of one’s own, rise and fall with transformation, and take the affairs of the world as the measure, only then can one become the master of the myriad things, comply with the times and circumstances, and change without end. How could a physiognomist detect this?

“He has probably seen only my blocking of the incipient mechanism of De.” (Huzi said:) Jixian probably saw only that I had closed off the sprouting mechanism of De.

Xiang Xiu comments: The sprouting movement of De had not yet appeared, and so it is called “blocking” (closing and storing).

Lu’s commentary: The numinous efficacy of ghosts and spirits can only perceive a person’s stirring thoughts and mental intentions. When the human mind is attached to something, ghosts and spirits can know it. Huzi’s facial color was like wet ashes, his mind like soil, sprouting without anxious thought; therefore it is called the “Heavenly Pattern” (here referring to the still state described above). Vibration is vitality; cessation and stillness are profound quiescence; therefore it is said, “not moving, not stopping.”

This passage comes from the story "Ji Xian Physiognomizes Hu Zi" in the "Huangdi" chapter of the Liezi. The Chongxu Zhide Zhenjing is the Liezi; here the commentaries of Zhenghe, the Fan family, and Xiang Xiu are cited.

Zhenghe Commentary: On seeing a strange or uncanny phenomenon, one regards it as extraordinary; but such a person is already like wet ashes, no longer burning and having lost his dynamic vitality. The perfected persons of antiquity could set the Great Dao in motion without end, so that opposites had no way to match up with one another. They withdrew the De-mechanism (the inner vital dynamism of life) and did not send it outward; outwardly they were blank and still, as if they had lost their spouse. Therefore he had to show the other person the "Earth Pattern" (the image of earth-like silence and weightiness). When the other saw him withdrawing the De-mechanism, he assumed that he was about to die. Earth shares the same De as Yin and softness; the manifestation of its function is, on the one hand, stillness, and on the other, appearing and revealing. Hence it says "not shaking, not staying fixed." "Not shaking" means not moving; "not staying fixed" means not lingering in any one place.

Fan Commentary: Whatever has form belongs to earth. Only when there is form do things that can be considered strange arise; only when there is mind-consciousness does one take them as strange. Earth merges with emptiness, mind merges with the signless, and the Dao penetrates as one—where could anything strange remain? The minds of the perfected persons of antiquity were like dead ashes, and their inner depths were profound and unfathomable. The other looked with deluded perception and therefore thought he saw something strange. "Not shaking" shows that he never moved; "not staying fixed" shows that he never halted in one place. The "Earth Pattern" that displays "not shaking and not staying fixed" was originally just like this. This was probably seeing Hu Zi withdraw the De-mechanism and not allow it to issue outward, was it not?

The gist of the original text: Liezi again returned with Ji Xian, and the next day went to see Hu Zi again. Ji Xian came out and said to Liezi: "Your master has met me and is saved! Within his death-ash-like countenance there was unexpectedly vitality—I saw 'Du Quan.'"

The commentary explains that Du Quan refers to vitality being withdrawn and hidden, not yet manifest. It has its use, but its benefit is not seen; therefore it is called Du Quan.

Liezi went back and told this to Hu Zi. Hu Zi said: "Just now what I showed him was the image of Tianrang (Heaven and Earth, vast and boundless)..."

Xiang Xiu's Commentary: Within Tianrang, the function of covering and supporting the myriad things has already appeared. Is this not precisely the image of the "Earth Pattern"?

"Names and actualities do not enter" means that neither names nor actualities can enter into it; that is, the state of emptiness and stillness transcends names and appearances.

Xiang Xiu said: If one follows nature and covers and supports all things, then the adornments of fame and profit all become useless.

On “the incipient mechanism issues from the heel,” Guo Xiang (the Western Jin commentator on the Zhuangzi) said: this means it constantly arises at the highest point, which is called “Duquan” (the state of being closed, stored, and not yet revealed). This is probably because Jixian saw only a small sprout of goodness in me.

Xiang Xiu further said: only when my goodness surpassed his could he see it. From this we know that what Jixian saw was very shallow.

Master Lu said: to possess the authority (the incipient mechanism of change) but not to apply it is “Du.” It is like Heaven covering all things before its effects have yet appeared, rising upward from below. Name and actuality have not yet entered, and so it says “there is life.”

The Zhenghe commentator said: “Ashen yet possessing life” is sometimes explained as meaning that, in a state no longer like dead ashes, there is still a germ of life. What was seen before was like wet ashes; the germ of life had already been extinguished, and extinction is death, so Jixian considered him “not alive” (unable to live). What he saw now was “Duquan”; the operation of movement was still hidden, but since there was already movement, it says “there is life,” indicating that a germ of life was present within. “He showed him Heaven and Soil”: soil is land capable of generating life; the mandate endowed by Heaven here produces and reproduces without cease, and so it is called “Heaven and Soil.” When name and actuality do not enter, truth and delusion are both blended and dissolved together. “The incipient mechanism issues from the heel” is precisely the starting point of life and breath; this is “Duquan.” The Dao is fundamentally invisible, and one who can carry on the Dao is no more than this; therefore it says, “He probably saw only the minutest trace of the sprout of my goodness.”

Master Fan said: having name and actuality is where things dwell; having neither name nor actuality is the emptiness of things. When neither name nor actuality enters, and the incipient mechanism issues from the heel, one can say that it has never been existent and never been nonexistent. Though it is silent and Wuwei (non-action), Qi (vital energy) naturally arises from this; this is what is meant by the True Person breathing through the heels (Zhuangzi, “The Great and Venerable Teacher”). “He showed him Heaven and Soil”—this is exactly how it should be. When Jixian first saw the wet ashes, he did not know that this was the hidden “Du,” and so he thought he was dead. Only after seeing him completely alive did he realize that the earlier dead ashes were originally an image of concealment, not a true state of death.

This passage comes from the story of Huzi revealing his appearances in the “Huangdi” chapter of the Liezi, with commentary interspersed. Liezi’s teacher Huzi confronted the spirit shaman Ji Xian, who could physiognomize people and determine their life and death.

On his second visit, after seeing Huzi, Ji Xian said to Liezi: “Your master’s spirit is unsettled, like one who has not fasted and is therefore not upright (zuo bu zhai). I cannot see his good or ill fortune, and I have no way to read his face. Wait until he has fasted, and then I will look at him again.” Liezi reported these words to Huzi.

Huzi said: “Just now what I let him see was ‘Tai Chong without signs.’ Tai Chong is the utmost empty-quiet realm of the Dao (the Way); zhen means sign or trace, so he could see no omen at all. What he saw this time was probably my condition of ‘balanced Qi at its subtle incipience.’ Balanced Qi is the peaceful Qi (vital energy) in which Yin-Yang are harmonized; ji is the faint beginning of movement.”

The commentary then draws an analogy with the nine waters: where the ni-fish coils, a deep pool forms; still water forms a deep pool; flowing water, overflowing water, poured water, and so on each form a deep pool—nine kinds in all, whose names are found in the Erya. Water’s nature is the same, yet depending on whether the terrain is high or low, level or steep, it eddies, surges, flows, or stops differently. The mind of the perfected person is likewise: according to whether external things are difficult or easy, it manifests differently as movement or stillness, advance or retreat. Xiang Xiu said: Whether the water flows or is still, whether the ni-fish coils or the dragon leaps, the depths remain clear and deep, never losing their silence. Guo Xiang said: When the perfected person is employed in the world, he acts; when set aside, he stops. Even after passing through all kinds of change, with order and chaos in endless confusion, he remains as though dwelling in the utmost place, always calm and self-possessed, tranquil in Wuwei (non-action).

Mr. Lu says: The mind-spirit moves within the Great Harmony (Taichong, the supreme harmonious Qi), utterly still and without trace, yet vast and formless-yet-formed, revolving and operating without fixed norm—like water, which transforms into various different names yet never departs from the clear, still nature of the deep pool. Therefore it is impossible to depict its shape and distinguish it.

Zhenghe says: The atmosphere of the earth is one in which Yin prevails and Yang wanes; the atmosphere of the sky is one in which Yang prevails and Yin wanes. As for the Qi of the Great Harmony, it possesses both Yin and Yang, yet one cannot say it is purely Yin or purely Yang. Therefore it is said, "The Great Harmony has no zhen (portent)." "Zhen" refers to the wondrous signs by which spirit manifests upon the myriad things; the transformations of Yin and Yang are difficult to fathom, and thus no signs can be found. "Chong" is the place where Yin and Yang intersect and unite; the Qi of the Great Harmony shows no signs, and one can only see that it is precisely balanced and harmonious—therefore it is called "the pivot of balanced Qi." One Yin and one Yang surge against each other without visible signs; examining the nine springs mentioned in the Zhuangzi (the several pools of water referred to in the "Dasheng" chapter) will also make this principle clear.

"Pan" is the swirling backflow of water. Only through swirling backflow can water preserve its unity, and thus these "pan" can all form deep pools. The places where the salamander (a creature dwelling in water) rotates form deep pools—this illustrates preserving unity within utmost movement. Still water swirling back to form deep pools illustrates preserving unity within stillness. Flowing water is a metaphor for "emerging": when it comes into contact and mingles with external things, it is emerging too much. Stagnant water is a metaphor for "entering": when it is soaked and flooded by external things, it is entering to exhaustion. "Yong" is when river water both flows out and returns again—different from "entering to exhaustion." "Qian" is when water flows out and no longer moves—again different from returning inflow. "Fei" is when water flows out with individual differences yet returns to unity. The principle of backflow preserving unity is essentially exhausted in these. However, the Zhuangzi only cites three of them, because when analyzed separately they can be divided into nine, and when taken together they reduce to three—their essential purport always lies in unity.

Master Fan’s Commentary: Earth belongs to Yin and sky belongs to Yang. As for the state of Taichong, Yin and Yang are harmonized, like the beam of a scale kept in balance; hence it is called “the pivotal mechanism of balanced Qi” (the key to Yin-Yang balance). All things are originally equal, without distinction of high or low; it is only the observer who makes distinctions, and therefore physiognomy has no way to be applied. The Laozi says that the mind should be like a deep pool: the deep pool is empty, bright, clear, and still, not mixed with external things. The water waves flow and change; though their forms differ, the deep pool’s clear nature remains always the same. What is called “Taichong” is probably just like this.

The Original Story: Liezi again came following Huzi’s younger brother Jixian (a spirit shaman of Zheng who could read physiognomy and determine people’s life and death). The next day, Jixian met Huzi again. Before Jixian had even steadied himself, he fled in panic. Huzi said, “Quick, chase him!” Liezi gave chase but could not catch him; he returned and reported, “He has vanished, he is gone; I could not catch him.” Huzi said, “What I just let him see was the state in which the source had not yet manifested.”

Xiang Xiu’s Commentary: Although in advancing and retreating he is the same as others, inwardly he is always rooted in the depths and at peace in the fundament.

In the original text, the sentence “I faced him with emptiness and yielding movement” and the following lines: Huzi says: When I faced him, I used an attitude of emptiness, moving with the circumstances, like grass and trees bending before the wind, like waves turning with the current. Xiang Xiu comments that the mind has no fixation and complies with change; he also explains that “drifting without attachment” means floating along with the waves, not being entangled by anything.

“Thus it is like thatch bending down; thus it is like waves flowing” means following the changes of external things, like grass and trees bending down in the wind, like water waves moving with the current. “Therefore he fled”: Jixian could not see through him and could only flee. The commentary says that “maomi” should be written “tuimi,” meaning the appearance of bending down as things change.

Xiang Xiu’s Summary: Worldly affairs change like bending down, like flowing waves; wherever one goes, one follows along. Then what the physiognomist sees is no longer my true state. Although I do not deliberately act, I bow and raise my head together with the crowd. The nature of the perfected person is one and the same; he simply complies with worldly changes and moves with the times. Therefore Jixian, skilled in physiognomizing people, had no way to apply his mind and could only flee in panic.

Lu Chongxuan’s Commentary (Lu Chongxuan, a Tang dynasty Daoist): Cut off thinking, remove distracting thoughts, and enter the realm of Wuwei (non-action). Empty and still to the utmost, with no form visible, others cannot see his physiognomy. Like grass bending before the wind, like water moving with the current, profound and unrestricted—this is not something a spirit shaman can recognize.

Fan Yingyuan's commentary explains the story in Zhuangzi’s “Ying Diwang” (“The Normal Course for Rulers and Kings”) in which Jixian reads Huzi’s physiognomy.

Jixian was a spirit shaman from the state of Zheng who could discern people’s life and death, misfortune and fortune; Huzi was his teacher. The reason Jixian said each time he saw Huzi that he had “seen him” was that he looked with his own expectations and preconceptions—this belongs to “sensing with an intentional mind” (youxin er gan). If Huzi “responded without mind” (wuxin er ying), answering him without any attachment, then each time Jixian came he would say that what Huzi displayed was “having a mind,” yet he could also perceive the “no-mind” aspect in him. All of this was the result of his measuring things by his own intentions.

Therefore, even though Jixian had supernatural powers, he was still dragged along by physical form and the workings of qi and fate, and had not transcended the limitations of “seeing.” He thought the principle of life and death lay in what was visible before his eyes, and so he could not escape the fate of being seen through by Huzi.

Huzi showed him different realms, and his reactions changed accordingly. When Huzi revealed “Earth Patterns” (diwen)—a state as still and silent as the earth, akin to deathly stillness—Jixian immediately declared that this man was going to die. When Huzi revealed “Heaven and Earth” (tianrang)—a state like the circulation of vitality between heaven and earth—Jixian joyfully said that this man could live. This shows that Jixian could judge life and death only by external appearances and could not see Huzi’s true inner reality.

Huzi let Liezi read his physiognomy, yet deliberately concealed his true condition, so Liezi could not discern whether he was real or empty. He did not realize that the mind of the perfected person, when still, shares its De with Yin (Yin refers to the soft, quiet, inwardly gathered aspect), and when moving, shares its waves with Yang (Yang refers to the firm, active, outwardly manifest aspect). When sharing De with Yin, others still cannot see it, and so he lets them see the “patterns of Earth” (diwen); “wen” are the veins by which the myriad things are held together and take form. When sharing waves with Yang, others also cannot see it, and so he lets them see “Heaven’s soil” (tianrang); “rang” is the root by which the myriad things grow.

As for displaying “the Great Vacuity with no trace” (Taichong mozhen)—the deepest, emptiest, untraceable state—Yin and Yang are harmonized, with neither predominating; this is precisely what is called the center of Heaven and Earth. These three conditions may all be called “ji” (the first subtle stirring, the incipient sign of a thing). Only one who can perceive these incipient signs in the subtle movements can see Huzi. If he has not yet come forth from the source, then even when he displays himself, he remains hidden and unmanifest, and others ultimately have no way to glimpse him. This is why Liezi fled in panic and could not be caught.

Yet when Huzi spoke to Liezi, he said: “What I displayed was the incipience of blocking De (the sign of De closed and stored),” “the incipience of goodness (the sign of what is good),” “the incipience of balanced Qi (the sign of breath and Qi at peace).” These statements all refer to himself as “wu” (I), which amounts to positing a “wo” (self) once again. When even “wu” becomes empty and compliant, so that one does not know who one is, then one’s own person has also been lost. Who, then, is manifesting? Who is having his physiognomy read? When he stops, he is like thatch falling before the wind, yet he does not know why it falls; when he flows, he is like waves driven onward, yet he does not know why they flow. To seek a “self” between movement and stillness is impossible; therefore he can leave others with no way to grasp him, and they depart.

Thereupon Liezi, believing that he had not truly completed his learning, returned home and shut his door for three years without going out.

Xiang Xiu’s commentary: This means he abandoned the nearby tasks of human affairs. He kindled the fire and cooked for his wife and children; Xiang Xiu comments: He forgot shame. He fed the pigs as he fed people; Xiang Xiu comments: He forgot the distinction between noble and base. In dealing with matters he made no distinction of close and distant; Xiang Xiu comments: He had no partial preference and no partial neglect (the sense of the Analects’ “to have nothing for or against”).

First Passage of The True Scripture of Ultimate Emptiness and Perfect De

Scriptural text: “Carved and polished, it returns to plainness; solitary like a clod, it stands alone by its own form; though the multitudinous closes in around it, with the One it remains to the end.”

After a vessel has been carved and polished, it returns once more to the plainness of its original nature, like a whole lump of earth or stone standing alone and preserving its original shape. When the multifarious external things gather around, it is not moved, and it keeps guard over this “One” (the focused, non-dual original nature) until the end.

“Returning to plainness” comes from Laozi’s “return to the uncarved wood”; it means removing artificial adornment and returning to natural authenticity.

The main points of the various commentators are as follows. Xiang Xiu held that when adornment returns to original authenticity, external affairs accordingly recede. Master Lu held that one must forget right and wrong, treat noble and base as equal, equate things and the self, stop external entanglements, not be bound by external things, and guard this “One” until the end; only then can one accord with the true Dao. Master Fan held that “standing alone, solitary like a clod” means forgetting external things and departing from the world, while “the multitudinous closes in around it” means that although myriad disturbances touch one, one remains peaceful and in the end is not changed.

Passage from the “Yellow Emperor” Chapter

Scriptural text: “Master Liezi was going to Qi and turned back halfway. He met Bohun Maoren, who said, ‘Why are you returning?’ He replied, ‘I was frightened.’ ‘What frightened you?’ ‘I ate at ten drink-shops—inns that sold drinks—and five of them brought me drinks first.’”

Liezi (Lie Yukou) set out for Qi but turned back halfway. On the way he met Bohun Maoren, who asked him why he was returning. Liezi said, “I was frightened.” “What frightened you?” “I was eating at ten shops that sold drinks, and the owners of five of them rushed to bring me something to drink first.”

Key point of the commentary: The “fright” here is not fright at danger. Rather, because people showed him excessive respect, he felt uneasy and did not dare go farther. This reflects the Daoist attitude of not craving empty reputation and not taking pleasure in external honors.

Liezi turned back halfway and met Bohun Maoren (Liezi’s teacher, a man who had attained the Dao). Bohun Maoren asked: “Why have you turned back midway?” Liezi said: “I was frightened.” Bohun Maoren asked: “Frightened by what?” Liezi said: “I passed by ten shops selling drinks and asked for water to drink. Among them, five eagerly brought the drink to me first, and everyone treated me with respect and deference.”

Bohun Maoren said: “That being so, why are you still alarmed?”

This means that people’s respect for you has its cause outside, not inside. When there is no sincerity within but one deliberately embellishes the exterior, and the outward form is contrived, it becomes a mere display of bearing; using such a bearing to overawe the hearts of the crowd will lead people to slight their elders and superiors. Guo Xiang’s commentary says that to move the crowd with a splendid outward appearance is to bring disorder and calamity in its wake.

The drink sellers merely made their profit by selling broth and drink; what they earned was a residual, petty gain, their profit was meager, and their power was slight, yet someone was still treated with such respect. Guo Xiang’s commentary says: with light power and thin profit, one need not seek anything from others, yet everyone respects one; thus, whether one’s position is high or low, great or small, none will lose their proper measure.

How much more so for a ruler with ten thousand chariots of war, who wears out his body laboring for the affairs of state and devotes all his intelligence to government—he would entrust affairs to me and require me to establish achievements. That is why I feel frightened.

By extension: one whose goods are slight hopes for little profit, while one whose responsibility is heavy demands many achievements.

Zhenghe Commentary: The perfected persons of antiquity could return to plainness, without ornamentation, comply with the natural workings of the mind, and silently accord with the Dao (the Way). They were dim and obscure as if nothing existed, and yet they existed; wholly without revealing their traces, their Shen (spirit) was nevertheless full. From this one knows that not seeking external reputation makes one more noble. If inner sincerity and reverence are insufficient, one cannot forget the calculating mind; if both appearance and scheming are to shine forth, one cannot forget the bodily form. If external things are used to restrain people’s minds, making them slight the noble truth and value themselves, wearing out the body in affairs of state and exhausting wisdom in human affairs, then inner grief and suffering, together with the joy of peace and security, will all gather upon the person at once; the panic of being driven by fear and the fright of joy will alternately sink into the heart. How could the calamities brought about in this way fail to make one afraid?

Fan Commentary: The sage wears coarse cloth and carries fine jade within; in preserving his bodily form, he simply lets the true nature within life be stored inside him, not shrinking from what is deeply hidden and subtly remote. When inner sincerity and reverence are insufficient, it is not that he has truly attained the Dao and forgotten the calculating mind; when appearance and scheming shine forth, it is not that he can contain his radiance and keep it from showing. To receive ten portions of broth, with five offered first—this is to rely on some device to restrain people’s minds, making them slight the noble truth and value themselves. The perfected person dwells at peace in a humble hut, while the common people are feverish and do not know where to go. If someone today uses this method to make people slight the noble and value themselves, then the calamities he attracts are brought upon himself. How could this be the principle of wearing coarse cloth, cherishing fine jade, and hiding one’s body?

Bohun Maoren (a Dao-realized figure in the Liezi) said: “Well said—your observation! That you could be startled by this shows that you are good at observing. If you keep to your proper station, others will come to protect you. If you remain silent and do not display yourself, then whether you go to Qi or stay here, there will be nothing to fear. If you go against this principle, then wherever you go, you will only be regarded as someone to be protected.”

Lu Sheng said: If a person assumes a dignified and imposing demeanor before others, people will instead, on that account, regard death lightly and thereby respect him. This is probably because they worry that the ruler will be exhausted by government affairs, and so they hand responsibility to their subordinates and require them to achieve merit; as their stipends increase, their anxieties follow, and therefore they are alarmed and fearful.

Bohun Maoren said: If you can gather yourself inward, preserve your true nature, hide your light, and leave no trace, others will protect you. Why is this? Everyone has a heart that aspires upward toward goodness; wherever there is profit to be gained, everyone rushes to contend for it. People of middling capacity can be led upward or downward in their nature. Once they understand that fame and profit cannot be forced, they should cultivate themselves in accord with good thoughts. Learning such subjects as the Odes, Documents, Rites, and Music is not easy to master. If one withdraws one’s traces, keeps to purity and stillness, makes the mind like dead ashes, and extinguishes wisdom, there will be no opportunity to attract profit or win the name of a good person. Therefore, at the gate of learning the Dao, good and evil ultimately all arrive at the same place. The noble person cultivates the self with a clear mind, while the petty person restrains the self through instruction; even without true realization, they will benefit because they incline toward goodness. Hence it is said, others will protect you.

(Note: The Daoist term zhen refers to original nature, true nature; “extinguishing traces” means leaving no trace.)

Before long, Liezi went again to visit Bohun Maoren. As soon as he entered, he saw that the shoes outside the door were already packed full, showing that many people had come seeking instruction. Bohun Maoren stood facing north, with his staff propped under his chin. After standing for a while, he went out without a word. A visitor told Liezi about this. Liezi immediately picked up his shoes and ran out barefoot. Catching up with him at the gate, he asked: “Since you have come, sir, would you refuse to prescribe a dose of medicine for me?”

(Note: “Fei” means to set aside or lay aside; here it means that the master did not utter a single beneficial word to provide a remedy suited to the illness.)

Lu Chongxuan’s commentary says: “Fei” should be “fa,” meaning: since the master has come, why does he not utter good words like medicine and stone and offer a little guidance?

Bohun Maoren said: Enough! I told you from the start, “Others will protect you,” and indeed others have protected you. This is not because you can make others protect you; it is because, complying with the nature of things, you receive external objects, and external objects naturally do not harm you. Now, if you defy the nature of things in responding to external objects, yet wish external objects not to harm you, that cannot be done.

And you cannot prevent others from coming to rely on you…

Gist of the original text: If you accord with the patterns of things in dealing with people and affairs, external things will naturally come to preserve you. Now you go against those patterns and wish to use resonance with external things to seek preservation by external things; that cannot be obtained. Nor can you make others refrain from attaching themselves to you.

Guo Xiang (a Western Jin Xuanxue thinker and commentator on Daoist classics) says: Allow natural, peaceful transformation, and there is neither resonance nor seeking. Without resonance and seeking, people will not attach themselves to one another.

Lu Chongxuan (a Tang Daoist and commentator on the Liezi) says: If you withdraw and preserve yourself, cut off learning and discard cleverness, the reason others protect you is not that you can summon them. If you can conceal your traces and merge with true simplicity, so that neither foolishness nor wisdom shows outwardly, others will also not wish to protect you. From this we see that your conduct simply causes people to attach to you, but cannot make people refrain from attaching to you.

Then why should you use the art of resonance? By what means can you move external things to such a degree?

If you rush to bestow benefits first and respond by making yourself novel and distinctive, the beneficence will not differ because the other gave first. (This commentary sentence is lacunose; the gist is that bestowing kindness before the other does not alter the other’s response.)

If you insist on having resonance, you will unsettle your original nature, and doing so is meaningless. If at every moment you want external things to resonate with you, then the natures of both sides will be unsettled and changed.

Among those who associate with you, no one tells you the truth; all are people who unsettle their original nature and cannot awaken one another. The trivial, cleverly embellished words they speak harm people like poison. Petty words easily stir the human heart, and so one is poisoned by them.

Without awakening, how can people mutually fulfill one another?

Lu Chongxuan further says: By what Dao do you influence external things? If you must speak words of praise and flattery, play with strange teachings, wag your lips and tongue, and show off that you can surpass the myriad things, even if all things submit to you, what benefit is there? If those who dwell with you do not point out your faults but only praise your strengths, this precisely corrupts your conduct and makes your heart arrogant—how can this be called mutual fulfillment?

This passage of scripture concerns how a cultivator of the Dao preserves original nature amid the worldly realm, so that he is neither seen through by others nor clung to by them.

The Zhenghe Commentary says: To be able to examine oneself inwardly is good. The Perfected Person (zhiren), whose cultivation has reached fullness, embraces the spirit (baoshen) and does not reveal it outwardly; he moves through the ordinary world in such a way that no one can fathom his depths. Therefore he must “keep to himself” (chuji)—that is, guard himself and not readily expose himself. If one cannot guard oneself, people will attach themselves to you and take possession of you. And once you are attached to, you are no longer the person whose depths cannot be fathomed. Thus one should wait until there is a stimulus before responding, and not deliberately seek to be different; this is precisely the way to make it impossible for others to attach to you. If one responds with a preset design beforehand, or deliberately displays something different from ordinary people, then one is seeking others’ attention. The result will be not only that one really will be attached to and exposed before others, but that one will inevitably be stirred by external things, have one’s nature shaken, and be unable not to be entangled by them. As for those who associate with you: if no one speaks directly and warns you, you have no way to notice your own faults; if someone leads you with shallow words, it instead poisons your nature and becomes a disaster. Since no one perceives it and no one awakens to it, how can one return to the Great Dao? Therefore the scripture says, “How can there be mutual shu?” “Xiang shu” means mutually steeping and transforming (xunzheng) one another until something is accomplished.

The Fan Commentary says (first passage): To respond only after there is a stimulus, to preserve one’s nature and embrace the spirit while roaming amid the world—this is exactly the way to make it impossible for others to attach to you. To have a preset design beforehand is not “responding after being stimulated”; to deliberately display something different from ordinary people is also not “roaming amid the world.”

The Fan Commentary says (second passage; the wording differs slightly from the preceding): If one follows such a mindset and associates with people, those who follow you around Dengxu will number in the tens of thousands, and the people of the state of Qi will regard you as noble, treat you like a spirit, and respect you as in the sacrifices to the altars of soil and grain. Even the ordinary folk at the foot of Weilei Mountain will secretly wish to rank you among the worthies, set out zudou (sacrificial vessels), and remove their shoes outside your gate to seek instruction, almost filling your courtyard. If this continues, you will surely be moved and your nature shaken—how then can you remain calm and penetrating without losing your authenticity? Therefore, those who are unwilling to admonish directly, and those who speak only shallow words, will be poisoned and have their nature damaged; and when no one perceives and no one awakens, people cannot mutually influence one another so as to reach accomplishment. This is like drinking ten kinds of beverages, five of which are served first—would you be surprised by this?

Yang Zhu traveled south to Pei, while Lao Dan went west to Qin. The two met in the outskirts, and when they reached Liang, Yang Zhu encountered Laozi. The commentary cites the Zhuangzi as saying that Yang Ziju—Ziju perhaps being Yang Zhu’s courtesy name—and Laozi were not people of the same era, and that this meeting is therefore an allegory.

Laozi sighed heavenward halfway along the road and said, “At first I thought you could be taught; now it seems you cannot be taught.” This is because Yang Zhu associated with a perfected person—someone whose cultivation had reached the highest level—and yet had not rid himself of the fault of self-display, so Laozi said he could not be taught.

Yang Zhu did not reply. When they reached their lodging, he first brought hot water for rinsing his mouth, then fetched a towel and comb, took off his shoes, stood outside the door, knelt, and shuffled forward on his knees, saying, “Just now, Master, you sighed heavenward and said, ‘At first I thought you could be taught; now you cannot be taught.’ Your disciple wishes to ask Master to point out my faults, but you were hurrying along the road, and I did not dare speak. Now that Master has stopped, please permit me to ask about my faults.” Laozi said, “You have wide-open eyes and a proud manner—who would be willing to dwell with you? Why do you exalt and pride yourself in this way, making such a display of yourself, so that others deliberately deceive you?”

The whitest thing appears to have stains; one of profound virtue appears to be lacking. This means that by not contending with external things, one can long preserve humility and keep to frugality.

When Yang Zhu heard this, his expression became alarmed and his face changed greatly. He said, “I respectfully receive the instruction.” When he went to the inn, the people of the inn came out to welcome him; the host himself spread a mat, the host’s wife brought a towel and comb, the travelers yielded their seats, and even the cook avoided the stove. This was because he exerted himself to advertise his difference from others, and so everyone stood in awe of him. But when he returned, the people of the inn contended with him for seats.

In the commentary, Lu Chongxuan explains: one who truly cultivates in concealment has no heart of self-praise and does not display himself. By being the same as the multitude, he will not be disliked by others.

Yang Zhu was someone who truly lived in seclusion and cultivated the Dao (the Way). He did not boast about himself, nor did he dazzle others with a precious appearance. When he went to a certain place, people welcomed him and saw him off; by the time everyone heard that he was skilled at governing, those lodging with him contended to share his mat. The previous chapter says that Liezi caused people to preserve you; this chapter says that Yang Zhu could cause people not to need to preserve you.

One who is good at commerce stores goods deeply, so that he seems empty; a gentleman whose De (Virtue/Power) is full appears foolish in countenance. Those who truly understand me are few, and so I become precious. As for those who show off cleverness to overawe the foolish, deliberately act extreme to seek distinction, and boast and promote themselves—how could they be fit to discuss the Great Dao? Liezi did not deliberately astonish the world, and yet he still drew criticism; that Yang Zhu altered his appearance and deliberately made himself different from the crowd, and was regarded as unteachable, was only natural.

The purest and brightest thing seems to bear dirt, because the mind is washed clean and not the slightest blemish is seen; even when it receives the dirt of the world, it does not adorn itself to make a display of impurity. One whose De is full seems to be lacking, because De can no longer be increased, and so he does not consider himself to have surplus. This is what is called “the highest De is not De”—the highest De does not deliberately display itself as De. Yang Zhu received the command and went; the crowd contended for the mat—this was probably so. When he went, their welcoming and sending off, clinging and avoiding astonished the crowd; when he returned, the crowd contended for the mat, which again showed that everyone alike made light of him. Therefore the sage wears coarse cloth while harboring beautiful jade, knowing to reject the former and take the latter.

Fan’s commentary says: Nothing does more harm to oneself than a De that is deliberately displayed. When there are calculations in the mind, the eyes will spy; how much more so with those who open their eyes wide and glance sideways to peer? Opening the eyes wide is contrary and not compliant; glancing sideways is seeking and not upright—this is probably because inner understanding has already been corrupted, while outwardly there is an intention to seek. “Great whiteness seems stained”: even if the mirror of the mind is washed clean and constantly abides in this, one will still be disliked by the crowd; “abundant De seems insufficient”: even if one is daily renewed and entirely without defect, one does not consider oneself to have surplus. If one can investigate thoroughly to this level, then those who share his mat will contend to associate with him.

Yang Zhu passed through the state of Song and lodged at an inn. The inn had two concubines, one beautiful and one ugly; in the end the ugly one was respected, while the beautiful one was treated with contempt. Yang Zhu asked the reason. The young servant at the inn replied, “That beautiful woman considers herself beautiful, but I do not find her beautiful; that ugly woman considers herself ugly, but I do not find her ugly.” Yang Zhu said, “Remember this. Cultivate your character and conduct, yet no longer consider yourself virtuous—then wherever you go, how could people not love you?”

(The Daoists) hold that those who are arrogant, self-satisfied, and boastful will not win the approval even of ghosts and spirits or of the moral judgment of the world; those who are humble, self-restrained, and cultivate themselves are gladly honored by all under Heaven. With such an attitude toward the world, who could resist him?

(The commentator) Lu Chongxuan says: This again summarizes the essential meaning of the preceding two passages. Cultivate character and conduct without considering yourself virtuous, and wherever you go you will be loved. The arrogant, self-satisfied, and boastful win approval neither from ghosts and spirits nor from the world; the humble, self-restrained, and self-cultivating are honored by all under Heaven. With such an attitude toward the world, who could resist him?

Lu Chongxuan further says: If one can make others naturally value oneself, then as for those who are not valued, could they be people who are jealous at heart? If one does not presume to have external things value oneself, then all under Heaven will forget one’s faults—how much more so a mere concubine in an inn?

(The commentator) Zhenghe says: From the perspective of the Dao (the Way), the myriad things originally have no distinction between beauty and ugliness. Once one knows why the beautiful is beautiful, ugliness is set over against it. What the world calls beautiful is the wondrous and extraordinary; what it detests is the foul and rotten. But the wondrous and extraordinary in turn transforms into the foul and rotten, and the foul and rotten in turn transforms into the wondrous and extraordinary—so what distinction between beauty and ugliness remains? The sage does not cling to right and wrong, beauty and ugliness, but simply maintains an empty mind and follows worldly affairs as they are. Not being self-conceited and not boasting—this is what is meant by “cultivating character and conduct without considering oneself virtuous”; when no one under Heaven contends with him over ability, nor anyone over merit, this is what is meant by “being loved wherever he goes.”

The Dao Has No Distinction of High and Low

The Dao has no distinctions of form—how could there be beauty and ugliness? When all under heaven know beauty as beauty, ugliness comes along with it. Nor does the Dao have distinctions of rank—how could there be noble and base? It is only that people view things from the standpoint of things, each taking something as noble, and so they disparage one another. How could those like the women in the inn understand the reason for this? Only by cultivating worthy virtue and removing the thought of being worthy will all under heaven delight in exalting such a person and never grow weary.

The Principle of Softness and Strength

In the affairs of the world there is a principle that can always win and a principle that cannot always win. What can always win is softness; what cannot always win is strength. These two are in themselves knowable and should be comprehended in the manner of the principles of the Changes, yet people do not understand them. Therefore the ancients said: “Strength means first overpowering those who are not as good as oneself; what it overcomes is merely those weaker than oneself. Softness means first beginning with oneself—first reflecting on oneself, first restraining oneself.”

The commentator further explains: once the strong meet an opponent equal to themselves, they are in danger; when they encounter an enemy, they are certain to fall into danger. The soft do not contend with external things, so external things cannot harm them; therefore they are without danger and, by principle, always remain secure.

Cultivation through “Tu”

Using this method to cultivate oneself is like being empty and without things; using it to bear responsibility for all under heaven is also like being empty and without things. This is what is meant by not seeking victory and yet naturally winning, not taking on responsibility and yet naturally being able to take it on. “Tu” means emptiness and non-attachment.

To realize the Dao of softness and emptiness, to dwell in a place of non-contention—even if one is noble oneself and all under heaven is vast, if one governs it with no-mind, then one is the same as “tu.”

Guo Xiang, a Xuanxue scholar of the Western Jin who annotated the Zhuangzi, says: following what the ear hears and the eye sees, knowing to stop where one does not know, being able to rest where one cannot act, complying with one’s nature and not contending with external things—this is the Dao of ultimate softness. Therefore, raising what one ought to raise and holding what one ought to hold, not the slightest weight presses upon the body, and I myself expend no effort.

Lu Chongxuan (a Tang-dynasty Daoist priest) said: The principles of softness and strength are inherently easy to understand; the reason people cannot truly grasp them is that the desire to compete and win is too strong. Meeting someone inferior to oneself is not enough to demonstrate one’s strength; but encountering an evenly matched opponent often places one in danger. If one takes up the affairs of the world with such a competitive mind, one will be like a servant condemned to perpetual hard labor, with no time for rest. One who can rest at peace in softness and weakness does not even wish to surpass those beneath him, let alone those above him. In the eyes of others he seems not to have overcome the other, yet in reality he has overcome his own selfish desires; because he follows and accords with nature, he never suffers loss. Laozi says: “The soft and weak overcome the hard and strong.”

Fan (the commentator) said: To win by benefiting all things is superior; to win by subduing others with force is inferior. Thus it is the Way of softness that can always win, and the Way of strength that often cannot win. Laozi says: “Nothing under heaven is softer or weaker than water, yet in attacking the hard and strong, nothing can surpass it.” The Outer Chapters of Zhuangzi discuss the parable in which Kui (a legendary one-legged creature) and the snake sympathize with each other; its gist is that only this principle of softness can snap great trees and overturn great houses. This is probably what it intends to illustrate. That softness can overcome hardness and weakness can overcome strength is known to everyone under heaven, yet few truly put it into practice. Thus only the sage can accumulate many small “non-victories” and ultimately achieve a great victory.

Yuzi (traditionally attributed to Yuxiong, an early Zhou Daoist figure) says: If you wish to be hard, you must guard it with softness; if you wish to be strong, you must preserve it with weakness.

To keep to softness is not to seek hardness and thereby become hard oneself; to preserve weakness is not to seek strength and thereby become strong oneself. Therefore the realm of hardness and strength cannot be summoned through selfish desire.

Those who accumulate softness and compliance will inevitably become hard and strong; those who accumulate suppleness and weakness will inevitably become powerful and flourishing. By observing what a person habitually accumulates, one can know whether he will meet misfortune or blessing, because misfortune and blessing are precisely produced by what is accumulated. Merely relying on aggressive strength to overcome those inferior to oneself does not count as true strength; one who can overcome those equal to or stronger than oneself is truly hard—but such a person will also inevitably encounter setbacks. If suppleness and weakness can overcome an opponent stronger than themselves, their power cannot be measured.

Mr. Fan says: Softness is the root of Dao (the Way, the fundamental principle governing the movement of all things), and weakness is the function of Dao. Therefore, accumulating softness and compliance will necessarily turn into hardness and strength; accumulating suppleness and weakness will necessarily turn into power and flourishing. Misfortune and blessing are never anything but what one has sought oneself. If one takes only aggressive strength as one’s method and does not understand how to preserve oneself through weakness, then those one can overcome are merely people weaker than oneself; if one takes softness as one’s method, one can ultimately overcome hardness and strength, and so can overcome those stronger than oneself. The reason the ancients valued dwelling in the place of non-contention is precisely that, because he does not contend with others, no one in the world can contend with him.

Lao Dan (that is, Laozi) says: When weapons are excessively strong, they move toward destruction.

Wang Bi (a Three Kingdoms scholar who annotated the Laozi) says: This is what all things detest, and therefore it certainly will not end well.

When trees are hard and rigid, they break; when strength reaches its extreme, it is destroyed. Suppleness and weakness belong to the category of life; hardness and strength belong to the category of death.

Mr. Lu says: Those who flaunt strength and are fierce and violent do not end well; those who love to win and contend for strength will surely meet their match. Accumulating virtue and benevolence is precisely the principle of softness.

Zhenghe (the commentator) says: Only a sage can accumulate small defeats and achieve a great victory. Laozi says that nothing in the world is softer and weaker than water, yet when it attacks hard and strong things, nothing can surpass it, because nothing can replace its softness. This too is the meaning of accumulating benevolence and virtue and taking softness as the Dao.

Zhenghe Commentary:

Only the sage can accumulate countless small advantages and thereby achieve a great victory. Laozi says: “Nothing in the world is softer and weaker than water, yet in attacking the hard and strong, nothing can surpass it, because there is nothing that can take water’s place.” If there were something that could take its place, it would follow external things and lose itself—how then could it overcome the myriad things? It is precisely because it has no substitute that, through a thousand changes and ten thousand transformations, it remains always the same, and none of the myriad things can overcome it. This is the “way of constant victory.”

The way of constant victory lies in softness; the way of constant defeat lies in strength. These two points are very easy to understand, yet people do not put them into practice. This is exactly the meaning of what the Laozi says: “Softness can overcome hardness; weakness can overcome strength. No one in the world does not know this, yet no one is able to do it.”

Those who flaunt their strength always want first to overpower those inferior to themselves; those who are gentle and compliant always begin with themselves. Those who only wish to overpower those inferior to them are in danger once they meet an opponent comparable to themselves; those who begin with themselves are free from danger. This is roughly saying that one who opposes the world will surely meet an adversary, while one who is weak, yielding, and humble can instead move freely across the hardest things in the world. This is precisely the principle being expressed.

One who cultivates himself in this way can govern the world, because like a soft and weak thing he is able to bear the task. He does not seek to overcome external things, yet naturally overcomes them; he does not rely on others but bears things himself. When two armies face each other, the side with a compassionate heart instead wins—hence it is said, “When military force is strong, it moves toward destruction.” A young paulownia tree that one or two hands can encircle—carpenters all know to tend it carefully, and when it has grown large they cut it down for timber—hence it is said, “When a tree is hard and strong, it will break.”

The myriad things turn their backs to Yin and face Yang, and achieve harmony through Chong (the Qi of emptiness, harmony, and balance). The nature of Yang Qi is to grow and generate; the function of Yin Qi is to wither, kill, and store. When the time of withering and killing arrives, the harmonious Chong Qi disappears. Therefore it is said: the soft and weak are companions of life; the hard and strong are companions of death.

Fan Says:

The transmitted text says: “The hard and strong occupy the lower position; the soft and weak occupy the upper position.” This is probably speaking of the principle that softness can overcome hardness. The following text has the same meaning as what the Zhenghe commentary cites; it likewise discusses the principle that softness and weakness belong to life, while hardness and strength belong to death.

Fan cited an ancient saying: the hard and strong are instead placed below, while the soft and weak are placed above. The soft can overcome the hard, and the weak can overcome the strong; herein lies the subtlety of Laozi’s Dao. Therefore the Zhuangzi says that one should make weakness, humility, and lowliness one’s outward demeanor.

A person’s outward appearance does not necessarily reflect their inner nature. The sage values inner wisdom and does not look at outward form; ordinary people draw close to those whose forms resemble their own and distance themselves from those whose forms differ. Those who resemble them, they feel close to and love; those who differ from them, they feel distant from and fear.

Consider this: a creature seven chi tall, with all four limbs complete, hair on its head, teeth in its mouth, and walking upright, is called “human,” yet a human may not lack a beast’s heart. Even with a beast’s heart, because its form resembles a human’s, it is still approached. Conversely, a creature with wings, horns on its head, sharp teeth and claws, able to fly and run, is called a “bird or beast,” yet birds and beasts may not lack a human heart. Even with a human heart, because its form does not resemble a human’s, it is still kept at a distance.

Fuxi, Nüwa, Shennong, and Xia Yu all had forms different from ordinary people—snake bodies with human faces, ox heads with tiger noses, and the like—yet all possessed the virtue of great sages. This shows that ancient sages often had extraordinary appearances. The so-called “snake body and human face” does not mean they truly had scales, hair growing on the chest, and no limbs; the so-called “ox head and tiger nose” does not mean they truly wore horns and had hanging flesh below the jaw. These expressions merely borrow terms from physiognomy manuals such as “turtle back,” “goose step,” “kite shoulders,” and “eagle beak” to describe their features.

Xia Jie, Yin Zhou, Duke Huan of Lu, and King Mu of Chu all had the seven apertures complete and were no different in appearance from ordinary people, yet they had hearts like birds and beasts. Thus it is clear that judging a person’s wisdom by appearance alone is unreliable.

Lu Chongxuan continued: creatures of different kinds draw close to one another through spiritual communion. Once the spirit departs, even between father and son, affection is cut off.

Lu Chongxuan says: What makes creatures of different kinds draw close to one another is Shen (spirit). Once Shen departs, even the affection between father and son is severed. Therefore, on a frightening night, if one is in the same room with a living being, one is not afraid, because Shen communicates; but if one stays in an ordinary house and shares a room with a corpse, one becomes afraid, because the Shen is different. For the dead and the living, the bodily form is still as it was before; yet one is at peace and the other afraid, because the Shen of the same kind has departed, and the bodily form no longer draws near to people. People do not understand that all living things share the same Shen though their forms differ, and so they worry and fear them; they even use similarities and differences of outward appearance to distinguish closeness and distance—this is truly muddled. Hence the Zhuangzi says: “What all things share in common is Shen; therefore Shen is the master that nourishes life.”

Fan Zhen (Master Fan) says: Mencius said, “What makes humans different from birds and beasts is only that tiny bit of difference—very little. Ordinary people discard it, but the noble person preserves it.”

If one seeks from beyond the bodily frame, then those whose outward forms are the same may not have the same wisdom; if one seeks within the bodily frame, then those whose wisdom is the same may not have the same outward form. Preserve it (referring to inner wisdom).

If one seeks from beyond the bodily frame, then those whose outward forms are the same may not have the same wisdom; if one seeks within the bodily frame, then those whose wisdom is the same may not have the same outward form. Thus people in ancient times: some did not have human form but possessed the virtue of a great sage; some had human form but the heart of a bird or beast. The key lies merely in what is preserved and what is discarded.

Annotations:

Lu Chongxuan: a Tang-dynasty Daoist priest and one of the authors of the Four Commentaries on the Chongxu Zhide Zhenjing.

Zhuangzi: a Daoist classic; this sentence is quoted or paraphrased from related discussions in the “De Chong Fu” chapter of the Zhuangzi.

Fan Zhen: here “Fan” is one of the commentators; the original text does not give the full name.

Shen: here it refers to spirit, the mind/heart-spirit, the inner “numinous” aspect that stands in contrast to the bodily form.

The Yellow Emperor and the Yan Emperor fought on the plain of Banquan. The Yellow Emperor had bears, pi (brown bears), wolves, leopards, chu (fierce beasts resembling wildcats), and tigers serve as the vanguard to clear the way, and he used eagles, he (a pugnacious bird of prey), hawks, and kites as banners. This was driving birds and beasts by force. Yao ordered the music officer Kui to strike the stone chimes and perform music; all the beasts danced to the rhythm, and when the Xiaoshao (ancient music) was performed nine times, phoenixes came and danced gracefully. This was influencing and transforming birds and beasts through music.

That being so, how are the hearts of birds and beasts different from those of humans? Their bodies and voices differ from those of humans, yet people do not understand the way to live with them. The sage knows all and penetrates all, and so can guide them and employ them in service. In the intelligence of birds and beasts there is also something that comes from natural disposition; they resemble humans in that they wish to preserve their lives, and they do so without borrowing human cleverness.

Males and females pair, mothers and children are affectionate toward each other; they avoid level ground and stay near steep and rugged places, avoid cold and move toward warmth; when they settle they gather in groups, when they travel they have order; the young stay on the inside, the strong guard the outer perimeter; when drinking they bring one another along, when seeking food they call and respond to one another. In remote antiquity, birds and beasts lived together with humans and walked alongside them.

A person of pure and substantial De (Virtue/Power) was not distrusted by birds and beasts.

When emperors and kings governed the world, birds and beasts began to be startled and scattered; by the final age, they withdrew into hiding and fled to avoid harm.

If a person harbors the intention to harm the myriad things, the myriad things will also know to avoid him.

The ancients believed that the hearts of birds and beasts have points of connection with human beings. They can be driven by human force and summoned by sounds, which shows that their inborn nature contains something akin to our own. Their intelligence, too, naturally has an aspect close to humans and capable of perceiving human intentions. In the age of the highest De (Virtue/Power), people were simple and pure and did not harm the myriad things; therefore birds and beasts could be tethered and led about for play, and bird nests could be climbed to and peered into, with no guardedness on either side.

In later ages people used cleverness to throw the world into disorder. The schemes for making crossbows, nets, and snares multiplied, and the birds in the sky suffered while the beasts in the marshes and wetlands suffered. As a result, crawling creatures, flying insects, and all the small winged things that can fly lost their original nature.

Today the people of the eastern state of Jie (an ancient state) can often understand the calls of the six domestic animals (horse, ox, sheep, chicken, dog, and pig). This is probably a skill acquired by specializing in one area, not a comprehensive understanding.

Turtles and dragons are the elders among shelled and scaled creatures; the qilin and the phoenix are the elders among the furry and feathered. Even down to the tiny insects that fly and wriggle, all can emit sounds to communicate with one another; each has its own inclination, and they also check and constrain one another—how are they any different from humans? It is only that humans cannot understand them, and so they say the sounds of birds and beasts are without order. Therefore, one who can exhaust the principles of things and fully possess wisdom can penetrate all paths; one who understands only by some accidental insight knows only a single path. As the Zuo Commentary on the Spring and Autumn Annals records: Jie Gelu (a man of the eastern state of Jie), on hearing an ox low, said, “This ox has given birth to four calves, all of which are to be used as sacrificial victims.”

The holy sages of high antiquity fully understood the conditions of the myriad things and knew the sounds of every kind of living being. They therefore gathered them together and instructed them, causing them to communicate with humans. First they assembled ghosts, spirits, and monstrous beings—as when Yu held audience with the assembled spirits at Kuaiji (in present-day Shaoxing, Zhejiang); next they brought the people of the eight directions into communication; and finally they gathered birds, beasts, insects, and moths, so that the hundred beasts danced in procession. This shows that among creatures of blood and Qi (vital energy), the minds are not far apart. The sages understood this, and so their civilizing instruction omitted no category of being.

Lu Chongxuan’s commentary: The Spring and Autumn Annals records that Jie Gelu heard an ox lowing and knew that it was to be used as a sacrificial offering. In the time of Great Yu, the assembled spirits came to court; under Shun, the hundred beasts danced to the music. All this speaks of the communication that can exist between humans and spirits and beasts.

Zhenghe’s commentary: Earlier Confucians understood the character tong (“child”) as tong (“same”), and this explanation is correct. People in the age of perfect virtue seemed devoid of knowledge, and so their virtue was not dispersed; they seemed devoid of desire, and this is what is called plain simplicity. Thus humans lived together with birds and beasts and were of one kindred with the myriad things. Birds and beasts could be led about on ropes for amusement, and one could climb up to peer into their nests. The Yellow Emperor commanded birds and beasts at the Battle of Banquan, and Yao transformed the myriad things through music; this was probably the same principle. Jie Gelu’s ability to understand an ox’s lowing also reflects conditions in the Zhou dynasty: at that time there were officials specifically appointed to rear birds and beasts and to train them, taming them so that they could even “converse” with them. Thus they understood the calls of every kind of animal, gathered them together, and instructed them. Traces of this survived in later ages. This is why the Liezi lamented the dissipation of pristine simplicity, investigated the original meaning of the Dao and De, and set it down in its book, hoping to reverse the decline of the age and restore it to honesty and simplicity; therefore its words touch on this matter.

Fan’s commentary: The Offices of Zhou records that officials in charge of taming beasts could converse with beasts and understood the languages of the six domestic animals, from which it is clear that there really were people who could understand such languages generally. Yet birds and beasts call with their mouths, and without those who have developed subtle techniques for penetrating the hidden, there would be no way to communicate with them. Thus Boyi could combine and interpret the sounds of bird calls and understand bird speech, and Jie Gelu could discern the tones of an ox’s lowing.

In the state of Song there was a man known as “Jugong,” the Monkey Keeper. The commentary explains that he received this name because he loved to raise monkeys.

Original Text from Zhuangzi

The monkey keeper (jūgōng) loved monkeys and kept a large troop of them. He could understand the monkeys’ minds, and the monkeys also understood his. He reduced his own household’s rations to satisfy the monkeys’ desires. Before long his household supplies were exhausted, and he planned to limit the monkeys’ food. But he also feared that the troop would no longer obey him, so he first coaxed them, saying: “I will give you acorns (yu, that is, chestnuts)—three in the morning and four in the evening. Will that be enough?” All the monkeys rose up in anger. After a moment he said again: “I will give you acorns—four in the morning and three in the evening. Will that be enough?” All the monkeys crouched down and were delighted. In the world, things ensnare one another by talent and by base devices; all is like this. The sage uses wisdom to ensnare the ignorant multitude, just as the monkey keeper used cunning to ensnare the troop of monkeys. So long as neither name nor reality is impaired, why bother calculating the people’s anger and joy?

Lu Chongxuan’s Commentary

All sentient beings, though they all possess spiritual consciousness, are most intelligent and clever in the case of humans with round heads and square feet. Among them, those most outstanding in wisdom are the sages and worthies, while those greatest in capacity are rulers. The sage employs people according to their capacities, so that each obtains what is fitting for them; whether great or small, all can be content in their proper station. He abandons neither people nor things. Using wisdom to ensnare—how could this apply only to a troop of monkeys?

Zhenghe Commentary

In antiquity, those skilled in practicing the Dao did not seek to make the people enlightened, but rather to keep them simple and unknowing. Presumably, the people can be made to follow, but cannot be made to investigate. Therefore one who is skilled in practicing the Dao need only make the people follow. Cause the people to return to their original and genuine constant state, and the Great Dao can support them and walk alongside them; thus there will be no place for cleverness to operate.

Fan’s Commentary

When the ancients spoke of fraud, they invariably spoke of “monkey deceit” (jūzhà), because the macaque is an animal skilled at spying and fond of deception. Therefore one removes its cunning and makes use of its conveniences; where outward appearance and actual circumstances do not match, perhaps this can only be a temporary expedient.