《冲虚至德真经鬳斋口义(林希逸)》Vol. 4

Bo Yi did have desires; he simply relied too much on his own lofty purity and so let himself go, eventually starving to death. Zhan Ji did have sexual desires; he simply relied too much on his own chastity and so let himself go, ultimately having no descendants. This is where the fault lies: lofty purity and chastity can themselves become failings.

The character xie was probably a copying error for you. You was interchangeable with you, meaning “excessive” or “extreme.” Saying that Bo Yi and Zhan Ji were not without desires means that their likes and dislikes were the same as those of ordinary people. But they clung too strongly to lofty purity and chastity, so Bo Yi let himself go and starved to death, while Zhan Ji also let himself go and ultimately had no descendants. Gua zong means that a clan has too few descendants. In this way, they harmed themselves. The problem, then, is that a reputation for lofty purity and chastity can lead people who seek to do good into this kind of failing.

Yang Zhu said: Yuan Xian lived in poverty in the state of Lu, while Zigong traded in goods in the state of Wei. Yuan Xian’s poverty harmed his life; Zigong’s accumulation of wealth instead burdened him. So poverty is no good, but neither is amassing wealth. What, then, is the right course? The answer is to take joy in preserving life and to be skilled at keeping body and mind at ease. Thus, those who know how to nourish life do not fall into poverty, and those who know how to keep body and mind at ease do not amass wealth and burden themselves.

The phrase “accumulating wealth and burdening himself” refers to Zigong’s trading in goods to build up wealth, which ended up burdening him. Poverty can prevent a person from living at ease, while wealth can bring toil; neither accords with the way of nourishing life.

Yang Zhu said: An old saying goes, “In life, people care for one another; after death, they leave one another behind.” This is well put. Caring for one another in life means more than showing affection: it also means letting the weary rest, feeding the hungry, warming those who are cold, and giving those in hardship the chance to find a way forward. Leaving one another behind after death does not mean failing to remember the dead. It means not placing pearls and jade in their mouths, not dressing them in fine brocade, not arranging sacrificial animals, and not laying out mingqi, the objects buried with the dead.

“Leaving one another behind after death” means that the ancients advocated simple burials. The phrase “no mound and no trees” in the Yi means that no tall mound was raised over the grave and no trees were planted there. “No fixed period for mourning” means that the mourning period had no set duration. The Jing’s mention of practices such as placing no pearls and jade in the mouth criticizes the lavish burials of that time. The exposed burials advocated by Yang Wangsun and Huangfu Mi seem to have been influenced by this idea.

Yan Pingzhong (Yan Ying) asked Guan Yiwu (Guan Zhong) about nourishing life, but Guan Yiwu turned the subject to funeral rites. The Yi says, “No mound is raised, no trees are planted, and the mourning period is not fixed.” This means that no high mound is built over the grave, no trees are planted there, and the period of mourning is not prescribed. The idea that nothing should be placed in the mouth after death, not even pearls or jade, mocks the lavish funerals of the time. Yang Wangsun and Huangfu Mi advocated burial without clothing, and seem to have been influenced by this view.

Yan Pingzhong again asked Guan Yiwu how to nourish life. Guan Yiwu said, “Let life follow its natural course; do not obstruct or suppress it.” Yan Pingzhong asked what that meant in practice. Guan Yiwu replied: “If your ears want to hear something, let them hear it; if your eyes want to see something, let them see it; if your nose wants to smell something, let it smell it; if your mouth wants to say something, let it say it; if your body finds something comfortable, let it enjoy that comfort; if your heart wants to do something, let it do so.”

When the ears want to hear music but cannot, that is called “suppressing hearing.” When the eyes want to see beautiful sights but cannot, that is called “suppressing sight.” When the nose wants to smell the fragrance of pepper and orchid but cannot, that is called “suppressing smell.” When the mouth wants to discuss right and wrong but cannot speak, that is called “suppressing the mind.” When the body wants comfortable clothes and food but cannot enjoy them, that is called “suppressing comfort.” When the heart wants to act freely and without restraint but cannot, that is called “suppressing one’s nature.” All these forms of suppression are sources of self-inflicted torment.

Remove these self-imposed restraints, and let the body and mind rest at ease as they await death. Whether one lives for a day, a month, a year, or ten years, that is what I call nourishing life. But if one is bound by these restraints, constantly holding oneself back and never letting go, anxiously pursuing longevity, then even a hundred, a thousand, or ten thousand years of life is not what I call nourishing life.

Here, e means to suppress or obstruct. It refers to people using their minds to restrain their own desires, thereby only tormenting themselves. The saying that living one day is better than another person’s month, and living one year better than another person’s ten years, means that a life spent in ease and enjoyment is better than a long life of sorrow and hardship. Without this, even longevity has little meaning.

Guan Yiwu asked, “I have already told you the way of nourishing life. What should be done after a person dies?” Yan Pingzhong replied, “There is nothing complicated about what happens afterward. What is there worth telling you? Even if you pursued a lifespan of a thousand or ten thousand years, what good would it do? That is not the way of nourishing life I have in mind.”

Guan Yiwu asked again, “I have already told you the way of nourishing life. What should be done after a person dies?” Yan Pingzhong replied, “What happens afterward is not worth worrying over or arranging. What is there to say?” Guan Yiwu said, “I really would like to hear.” Yan Pingzhong replied, “After a person dies, how could it still be up to me? The body may be burned, sunk in water, buried, or left exposed in the open. It may be wrapped in brushwood and thrown into a ravine, or dressed in ceremonial robes and placed in a stone outer coffin. Any of these is fine; let circumstances and others decide.”

Guan Yiwu turned to Bao Shu and Huangzi and said, “The two of us have understood the truth about life and death.”

“Briefly,” here, means that what happens after death is not worth worrying over or arranging; one may simply leave it to others. The passage advocates allowing the body to decay quickly after death and criticizes the practice of building stone outer coffins. It also offers this view as a corrective to prevailing worldly attitudes. Bao Shu and Huangzi are the names of two people; Huangzi, too, is probably a character in the parable.

When Zichan took charge of the state of Zheng, he held sole authority over its affairs. After three years, the good followed his teaching, the wicked feared his prohibitions, and Zheng was governed so well that the other feudal lords regarded it with respect.

Zichan had an elder brother, Gongsun Chao, and a younger brother, Gongsun Mu. Gongsun Chao was devoted to wine, while Gongsun Mu was fond of women. Gongsun Chao’s home held thousands of jars of wine, and heaps of brewing grain rose as high as burial mounds. A hundred paces from his house, the fragrance of wine already filled the air. When he gave himself over to drinking, he paid no heed to the safety of the world, the gains and losses of human affairs, the survival of his household, his ties with his relatives, or the joys and sorrows of life and death and parting. Even if water, fire, or weapons were right before him, he would not notice.

Gongsun Mu’s rear courtyard held dozens of rooms, filled with young and beautiful women. When he lost himself in their company, he kept away from his family and cut off all contact with others. Hidden in the rear courtyard, he would let day follow night, emerging only once every three months, yet still feeling unsatisfied. If there was a beautiful woman in the local community, he would always find a way to lure her with money or send a matchmaker to entice her, and would not stop until he had his way.

Zichan worried about this day and night. He went discreetly to consult Deng Xi and said, “I have heard that by cultivating oneself one can govern one’s family, and by governing one’s family one can govern a state. This means beginning close at hand and extending outward. I have had some success governing the state, yet my own household is in such disorder. Have I got the method wrong? How can I save my two brothers? Please advise me.”

Deng Xi said, “I have long found this strange, but did not dare speak first. Why not take the opportunity, while attending to state affairs, to explain to them the importance of life, then guide them with the dignity of ritual and righteousness?”

Zichan followed Deng Xi’s advice. Finding an opportunity to visit his brothers, he said, “Human beings are more precious than birds and beasts because they possess wisdom and reflection. What wisdom and reflection should follow is ritual and righteousness. When these are in place, reputation and status will come of their own accord. But if you indulge your desires and act on every appetite, your lives will be put in danger. If you listen to me, my elder brother can repent in the morning and hold office with a stipend by evening.”

Gongsun Chao and Gongsun Mu replied, “We have known and considered these principles for a long time. Did we have to wait for you to tell us before we could understand them? Life is hard to come by, while death may arrive at any moment. Shouldn’t we think carefully before spending a life so hard to come by waiting for a death so easy to reach? You want us to honor ritual and righteousness to win other people’s praise, and suppress our nature to gain a reputation. We think we would be better off dead. We only want to enjoy this life to the full. We worry only that a swollen belly will keep us from drinking freely, or failing strength will keep us from pleasure. How could we care that our reputations might be disgraceful or our lives in danger? You boast of your skill at governing a state, hoping to unsettle our minds with your words and win us over with honor and stipends. Isn’t that both shallow and pitiable? Let us explain our own principles to you. Those skilled at governing external things do not necessarily govern them well, and often bring suffering upon themselves. Those skilled at governing their inner lives may leave external things in no disorder, while their nature remains free and at ease. Your method of governing may work for a time in one state, but it does not accord with the human heart. Our method of governing ourselves could be practiced throughout the world, leaving no room even for the bonds between ruler and minister. We had meant to use these principles to persuade you. Will you now turn around and teach us a different set of methods?”

Zichan listened, bewildered and speechless. Later, he told Deng Xi what had happened. Deng Xi said, “You have been in the company of True Persons without realizing it. Who could still call you wise? Zheng is well governed by chance; it is not your achievement.”

If wine mash is piled up, it can be built into a tall platform of lees. “Wu tuo” and “e jiao” both mean beautiful women. “Not stopping until one has failed to obtain it” means exhausting every effort in pursuit, and giving up only when it proves truly unattainable. “Shu nian” means to consider something carefully; shu is interchangeable with shu, “thorough.”

Even if a person wishes to drink to excess, the belly will become distended and he will be unable to drink more. Even if he wishes to indulge fully in women, he will be exhausted and unable to continue. This is what Guo Pu meant when he said that wine, sex, goods, and wealth could scarcely be enjoyed to the full. Deng Xi called such a person a “true man,” meaning that he understood the principles of nourishing life. Someone skilled at governing the heart may not be thrown into disorder by external things; someone content with his own pleasures may not thereby bring the world into turmoil. This means that order and disorder each follow their own natural course.

This passage resembles the “Robber Zhi” chapter of the Zhuangzi, with its profuse and elaborate language. Guo Pu’s words seem quite contrary to reason, but judging from his actions—holding a knife in his mouth, letting his hair hang loose, and climbing up to the privy—he probably thought he understood fate. He foresaw that in the end he would be unable to preserve his life, and so made these arguments. Yet fortune and misfortune are determined by Heaven, while self-cultivation is up to oneself. It is enough to do all that lies within human power, then leave the rest to fate. Practices such as holding a knife in one’s mouth and letting one’s hair hang loose are not things a clear-minded person would do; how much less should one indulge in wine and sex?

Reflecting on this, the Mencius says: “One need not take a fixed stand on whether life is long or short; cultivate oneself and await what fate brings.” Life offers many experiences, and many truths and sources of fulfillment that can never be exhausted. Confucius said, “If I hear the Dao in the morning, I can die content that evening.” The meaning is much the same.

The Zhuangzi and Liezi were written out of indignation at the state of the world. The benighted, however, take their arguments as words to be used at will, and later generations have also mixed in alterations. Reading these books without understanding the authors’ original intent or distinguishing what is genuine from what is false may lead one astray. This is why they have been regarded as heterodox teachings.

There was a man in Wei named Duanmu Shu, a descendant of Zigong. Relying on the wealth his ancestors had left him, his family fortune amounted to ten thousand in gold. He paid no heed to worldly affairs and did only what pleased him. Whatever the common people wished for and everyone enjoyed, he pursued and savored without exception.

He built high walls and houses, terraces and pavilions, and laid out gardens, ponds, and marshes. His food and drink, carriages and horses, clothing, music and dance, and his concubines and attendants were all arranged to match those of the rulers of Qi and Chu. As for the things his heart desired, that his ears wished to hear, his eyes wished to see, and his mouth wished to taste, he was sure to obtain them, even when they differed from these everyday pleasures and came from distant, remote places that Qi did not produce, as though they were already inside his own walls. When he traveled, he went wherever he wished, even through dangerous mountains and rivers and across great distances, as if he had only taken a few steps.

Every day more than a hundred guests came to his house. Smoke rose from his kitchen all day long, and music never stopped in the halls and corridors. After providing for himself and his household, he first distributed his wealth to his clan. Once the clan had been provided for, he gave to his village, and only when the village had been provided for did he give to the people of the whole state.

When he reached sixty, his vigor began to decline and he no longer managed household affairs. He scattered the money, treasures, carriages, clothing, concubines, and attendants stored in his granaries. Within a year his entire fortune was spent, and he left nothing to his descendants. When he fell ill, his household had no medicine in store, and when he died, there was no money for a burial. The people of the state who had received his kindness contributed funds together and gave him a funeral, which in effect returned his property to his descendants.

When Qin Guli heard of this, he said, "Duanmu Shu is a madman who has disgraced his ancestors." Duanyu Sheng, however, said, "Duanmu Shu is a man of understanding, and his virtue surpasses that of his ancestors. His conduct and deeds, though they astonish the multitude, accord with true principle. The gentlemen of Wei who restrain themselves by the rules of ritual probably cannot yet grasp this man's intent."

"The generations of Zigong" refers to Zigong's descendants. "To collect and store" means to gather goods and property in order to bury the dead; "what the minds of the multitude find astonishing" means that everyone regarded it as strange; "what is truly taken up by principle" means that, judged according to natural principle, this practice may be adopted. How could this be understood by those who are bound by ritual doctrine and restrain themselves? This passage is probably using it to mock the Confucians. "Qi gan" means "spirit and backbone."

Mengsun Yang asked Yangzi: "Suppose there is a person who cherishes life and cares for his body, hoping not to die—can this be achieved?" Yangzi said: "According to principle, no one is immortal. As for hoping to live long and endure—can this be achieved?" Yangzi answered: "According to principle, a person cannot live forever. Life is not preserved merely by cherishing it, nor is the body made stronger merely by caring for it. Moreover, what meaning is there in living long? People's joy and anger, love and hatred have been roughly the same from ancient times to the present; the safety and danger of the body have likewise been the same from ancient times to the present; and the changes of suffering and pleasure in the world, of order and chaos, are no different either. Since one has already heard, seen, and personally experienced these things, even a hundred years of life would seem too long—how much more would it be to endure the torment of a vast stretch of years?"

Here "likes and dislikes, safety and danger, suffering and pleasure" means that the affairs of the human world are in general no more than this. The world always alternates between order and chaos, cycling without end; therefore it says that the changes of order and chaos in ancient and modern times are the same: even after a thousand or ten thousand years, what one encounters would be no more than these things. "Geng" means to experience. Whether one lives ten years or a hundred, what one sees with one's own eyes, hears with one's own ears, and experiences for oneself is roughly like this; even if one lived a thousand or ten thousand years, it would still be the same. Du Mu's line "In this floating world, one's time is spent in eating and sleeping" expresses precisely this meaning.

Mengsun Yang said, "If that is so, then dying quickly is better than living a long time. And if it is, then stepping on blades, leaping into boiling water and raging fire would achieve what one wants."

Yangzi said, "That is not so. Since we are already alive, we should set aside our preconceptions, let things take their natural course, and fulfill our wishes as fully as we can until death arrives. When death is near, we should likewise set aside preconceptions and go along with what is natural, letting life come to its end. If we let go of everything and allow things to follow their own course, why should we bother to quibble over whether death comes early or late?"

Lin Xiyi commented, "This turn in the argument is very well made. While living, there is certainly nothing especially worth rejoicing in, yet one should not abandon life and single-mindedly seek death. Fei (abandon) means not holding on to preconceptions: setting aside one's own deliberations and letting things develop naturally. This is why the text says fei er ren zhi, 'abandon and let it be.' If one can thoroughly drop these thoughts, then even the notions of 'letting go' and 'letting be' need not be clung to. Why, then, bother to weigh whether death comes early or late?"

Yang Zhu said: "Boce Zigao would not give up a single hair of his body to benefit others, so he abandoned his state and retreated to farm in seclusion. Yu the Great, by contrast, did not spare himself; he offered his whole person to the work, until parts of his body were worn down. The ancients would not pull out one hair even if doing so could benefit the whole world, and they would not accept the entire world even if it were offered to them. If everyone refused to harm even one hair and refused to benefit the world, the world would be well governed."

Qinzi asked Yang Zhu, "If you pulled out one of your hairs and could thereby save the world, would you do it?" Yang Zhu replied, "The world was never something that a single hair could save." Qinzi pressed further: "Suppose it truly could be saved. Would you do it?" Yang Zhu gave no answer.

After Qinzi left, he told Mengsun Yang about the exchange. Mengsun Yang said, "You do not understand our master's intent, so let me explain it to you. Suppose that by injuring a patch of your skin you could gain ten thousand pieces of gold. Would you do it?" Qinzi said, "I would." Mengsun Yang asked, "Suppose that by cutting off one of your limbs you could gain a state. Would you do it?" Qinzi was silent for a while.

Mengsun Yang said, "A hair is smaller than a patch of skin, and skin is smaller than a limb. This principle is plain enough. Yet hairs accumulate to become skin, and skin accumulates to become limbs. A single hair is one ten-thousandth of the body itself. How, then, can it be treated as negligible?"

Qinzi said, "I do not know how to answer you. But if I put your view to Lao Dan and Guan Yin, I suspect your words would be correct. And if I put my view to Yu the Great and Mozi, I suspect my words would be correct." Mengsun Yang then turned around and began speaking with his disciples about other matters.

"Wearing down one part of the body" refers to Da Yu (Yu the Great), whose hands and feet grew thick calluses while he controlled the floodwaters. Yang Zhu said: "Even if pulling out a single hair could benefit the whole world, I would not do it. Even if all the things under heaven were offered to nourish me, I would not accept them." This is the so-called teaching of "for-oneself" (wei wo), which holds that one should cherish oneself and not harm one's body for the sake of external affairs.

Qin Zi asked: "No matter in the world can be settled by pulling out a single hair. What benefit would it bring the world to lose one of your hairs?" Yang Zhu did not answer, because Qin Zi had not fully stated the meaning of his words. The body is made up of its parts, and each part is composed of minute details. Even if only one hair is moved, it is still a part of my body, so how could one despise it for being small? The sense of this reply is probably this: as long as the mind harbors even a trace of chasing after external things and being busy with outside affairs, it does not accord with the principle of nourishing oneself.

Qin Zi said: "Your explanation makes it truly hard for me to answer. However, Lao Dan and Guan Yin would agree with your view, while Da Yu and Mozi would not." Meng Sunyang turned around and spoke to his disciples about other matters. The sense of this was probably: Da Yu and Mozi are not people my teacher esteems, so is it appropriate for you to set them beside Yang Zhu? Meng Sunyang was a disciple of Yang Zhu.

Yang Zhu said: The fair names of the world all go to Shun, Yu, the Duke of Zhou, and Confucius, while the foul names go to Jie and Zhou. Yet Shun once ploughed fields at Heyang and made pottery at Leize; his limbs knew no moment of rest, and his food was not rich. His parents disliked him, and his younger brother and sister were not close to him. At thirty he took a wife without informing his parents. When he received the abdication of Yao, he was already old and his wisdom had declined. Later, when Shangjun proved to lack virtue, Shun passed the throne to Yu, and he lived in anxiety and unease until his death. This is a man who, as a "heavenly commoner" (tianmin), was reduced to the utmost hardship.

Gun governed the waters and soil but did not complete his work, and was executed at Yushan. Yu inherited his father's undertaking and carried on this matter bound up with his father's failure. He devoted himself wholly to controlling the floods and for long years traveled through the wilderness; he passed his own door without entering, his body even became partly paralyzed, and his hands and feet grew thick calluses. When he received the abdication of Shun, he lived in a modest palace yet adorned his ceremonial robes and crown with great splendor, and he lived in anxiety until his death. This is a man who, as a heavenly commoner, was beset by suffering.

After King Wu died, King Cheng was young, and the Duke of Zhou acted as regent on the king's behalf. The Duke of Shao was dissatisfied with this, and rumors spread through the various states. The Duke of Zhou remained in the eastern capital for three years, executed his elder brother Guanshu and exiled his younger brother Caishu, and only barely preserved himself; he lived in fear and dread until his death. This is a man who, as a heavenly commoner, found himself in a perilous situation.

Confucius understood the way of the ancient kings and took office in response to the summons of various rulers, yet in Song his trees were felled by men, in Wei he was driven out, he was reduced to distress in the former lands of Shang and Zhou, he was besieged between Chen and Cai, and he was suppressed by the Ji family and humiliated by Yang Hu. He lived in fear and hurried about until his death. This is a man who, as a heavenly commoner, was restless and ill at ease.

These four sages never had a single day of true joy while alive, yet they left behind fame for ten thousand generations. Fame was originally not something substantively gained: even if others praised them, they would have no way of knowing it; even if others rewarded them, they would have no way of knowing it. How is this any different from a stump or a clod of earth?

Jie relied on the wealth accumulated over generations and enjoyed the lofty position of ruling all under heaven; his intelligence was sufficient to hold off his ministers, and his authority was sufficient to awe the world. He indulged fully in the pleasures of sound and sensual beauty, satisfied his desires as he pleased, and died in ease and dissipation. This is a man who, as a heavenly commoner, gave himself over to pleasure and debauchery.

Zhou, too, relied on the wealth accumulated over generations and enjoyed the lofty position of ruling all under heaven; his commands were carried out everywhere, and his wishes were all fulfilled. He indulged himself in pleasure in the Palace of Leaning Beauty, drank through the night and made merry, and let no ritual propriety or righteousness restrain him; he died in ease and dissipation when he was executed. This is a man who, as a heavenly commoner, abandoned himself to unrestrained indulgence.

These two tyrants, while alive, exhausted the joys that desire brings, and after death they bore the infamy of ignorance and cruelty. The reality of things was not originally bestowed by names: even if others denigrated them, they would have no way of knowing it; even if others praised them, they would have no way of knowing it. How is this any different from a stump or a clod of earth?

Those four sages, though fair names were attributed to them, lived their lives in bitterness to the end, and all in the end went toward death; those two tyrants, though foul names were attributed to them, lived their lives in pleasure to the end, and in the end likewise went toward death.

"Tiānrén" (people of the world) refers to the ordinary people under Heaven. Among them, those who are most lonely and distressed, most worried and anguished, most exposed to danger and fear, and most pressed with no chance for ease, are precisely these people. "Tiānmín" (the people of Heaven) has the same meaning as "tiānrén." "Zhūkuài" (stumps and clods) means that after death a person is like a withered stump or a lump of earth. Once the body has perished, one knows nothing of praise and nothing of blame, so what difference does it make whether one was wise or not? This passage states its meaning too baldly.

Yáng Zhū had an audience with King Liáng and said that governing the realm is as easy as turning something over in the palm of one's hand. The king asked, "Master, you cannot even manage one wife and one concubine, and you cannot weed the grass out of a three-mu garden plot. Why, then, do you say that governing the realm is like turning something in the palm of the hand?" Yáng Zhū replied, "Have you ever seen a shepherd? If there are a hundred sheep gathered in one flock, and a boy only five chi tall follows them with a whip, the sheep go east when he wants them to go east and west when he wants them to go west. But if Yáo leads a single sheep and Shùn follows it with a whip, the sheep cannot be made to move at all."

He continued, "I have also heard that a great fish able to swallow a boat does not swim in small tributary streams, and that a swan flying high does not settle in a muddy little pond. Why? Because the places they intend to reach are extremely distant. The bells huángzhōng and dàlǚ produce grand, resounding tones, and so they cannot be used to accompany the intricate and fragmented music and dance of lesser performances. Why? Because their tones are broad and far-reaching. One who governs great affairs need not attend to every detail, and one who achieves great merit need not personally perform every small task. This is the principle that these examples are meant to illustrate."

"Tributary" (liúzhī) refers to a small stream branching off from a larger river. The passage in the Zhuāngzi, chapter "Autumn Floods" (Qiūshuǐ), expresses a similar idea. The commentators hold that Yáo and Shùn would be no better at herding sheep than a child, and that this is exactly the point: a person capable of handling great affairs is not necessarily skilled at handling small ones.

Yang Zhu said: "The affairs of remote antiquity have been buried and no longer passed down. Who could still remember them? The deeds of the Three Sovereigns (Sanhuang) seem to survive, yet also seem to have vanished. The deeds of the Five Thearchs (Wudi) are like a dream or like reality, hard to tell apart. The deeds of the Three Kings (Sanwang) are partly hidden and partly revealed, yet of what people know about them, not one in a hundred million is known. Of the events of one's own life, some have been heard of and some personally seen, yet of what one knows, not one in ten thousand is known. Of the events before one's eyes, some remain and some have already vanished, yet of what one knows, not one in a thousand is known.

From high antiquity to today, the years are too many to count. Since Fuxi, more than three hundred thousand years have passed. Worth and folly, beauty and ugliness, success and failure, right and wrong all dissolve in the end, only some faster and some slower. To trouble one's mind and wear down one's body over the momentary slander and praise of the moment, hoping that one's name will last for hundreds of years after death, how could this nourish dry bones? What pleasure is there in such a life?"

Lin Xiyi explains that mie (extinction) means being submerged and no longer transmitted. The phrases sicun siwang (seemingly surviving, seemingly perished), xiang meng xiang xing (like a dream, like waking), and you yin you xian (sometimes hidden, sometimes revealed) convey the general idea that the older an affair becomes, the harder it is to clarify. Even if one gains a reputation for a time, it will vanish after several hundred years, and even doing good merely exhausts oneself in vain.

Yang Zhu said: The human body resembles the myriad things of heaven and earth in its form, and it is endowed with the nature of the five constant virtues (wuchang), making it the most spiritually intelligent of all living beings. Yet people lack claws and fangs sharp enough to defend themselves, and their skin is not enough to resist injury. They cannot run fast enough to escape harm, and they have no feathers or fur to shield them from cold and heat. For this reason, they must rely on external things to nourish their lives, depending on wisdom rather than on brute strength alone.

Thus, wisdom is valuable because it preserves the self, while strength is contemptible because it harms others. Yet the body is not something one can dispose of at will. Once one is born, one must preserve it. External things are not one's own possessions either. Once one has them, one cannot easily abandon them. The body is indeed the root of life, and external things are the means by which life is sustained. Even when one preserves one's life, one should not treat the body as private property. Even when one does not give up external things, one should not treat them as private property. To regard both the body and external things as private holdings is to presume to monopolize the bodies of all people and the wealth of the world. Only the sage (shengren) may be capable of this. To regard the bodies of all people and the wealth of the world as held in common by everyone under heaven is the mark of the perfected person (zhiren), one whose virtue (de) is of the highest order. This is the supreme state.

What is called yangxing (nourishing one's nature) means preserving life. One should rely on wisdom rather than on force. Wisdom belongs to oneself, while force is used to contend with external things. It is most precious to cultivate oneself, and it is base to harm external things. When one harms external things, both sides are consumed and struggle against each other.

My body and my life, of course, should be preserved to the utmost. External possessions do not truly belong to me. Since they are not mine, they may become a burden, and one should be able to let them go. Yet the body, though it is what allows me to live, is not always under my control, so how could I possess it completely? External things can be discarded, but sometimes they cannot be, and I should not insist on removing them. This is what the Zhuangzi means by "wu mo zu wei er bu ke bu wei" (there are things not worth pursuing, yet they cannot be left undone).

If one regards both external things and the body as one's own, one goes against Heavenly principle (tianli) and serves only self-interest. This is called hengsi (arbitrary selfishness). The "perfected person" (zhiren) that the sages speak of means regarding the self as something that need not be held privately, and external things as something that need not be claimed as one's own, with no selfish mind at all. To reach this state is zhizhi (the utmost of the utmost), and nothing could be higher.

Yang Zhu said that ordinary people cannot be at ease and unburdened because four things weigh on them: first, the desire for long life; second, the pursuit of fame; third, the striving for rank; and fourth, the accumulation of wealth. Having these four desires, they fear the blessings and calamities of ghosts and spirits, fear the opinions of others, fear the pressure of those in power, and fear the punishments of royal law. Such people turn away from the natural Dao (the Way). Their lives, their deaths, and their fates are all governed by external things.

If one does not go against the natural regularities of life, why envy long life? If one does not boast of nobility, why envy fame? If one does not covet power, why envy high office? If one does not crave wealth, why envy possessions? Such a person follows nature and is not held back by external things, so nothing in the world can stand against him, and his fate is in his own hands.

Therefore there is a saying: "If a man does not marry and does not hold office, his desires are halved; if he does not wear clothes and does not eat, then the Way of ruler and minister has nothing to speak of." A proverb of the Zhou region also says, "The farmer in the field may, in a single moment, be ruined by ease." Farmers leave early and return late, and regard this as the normal course of life. They find beans and wild greens to be the finest flavors. Their muscles are firm and their bones strong. If one suddenly moved them into soft felt tents and laid fine mats beneath them, and nourished them with millet, meat, orchids, and tangerines, their bodies would become restless and unwell, and internal heat would sicken them. If the rulers of the states of Shang and Lu were to exchange their lives with those of farmers in the fields, they would be exhausted within half a day.

People only have fears and anxieties when they have attachments. Here, "wei" (awe-inspiring power) refers to the blessings and calamities of ghosts and spirits, or of the unseen realm, and "xing" (punishment) refers to the penalties imposed by royal law. "Dun ren" (those who flee) refers to people who depart from the natural principle of Heaven (tianli) and go against the inherent nature of things.

Someone like those described earlier has his life and death, his calamity and fortune, governed by others, which is why it is said that "fate is controlled from outside." The person who lives in accordance with the nature of the common people has nothing to boast of and nothing to envy, and he does not cling to worldly glory. Transcending the world, he is such that "no one under heaven can rival him." His destiny rests in his own hands and is not controlled by others, which is why it is said that "fate is controlled by oneself."

Human life includes marriage and official office, and desires often arise from them. The relationships between ruler and minister, superior and subordinate, are also sustained by the provision of food and clothing. Without marriage and office, desires might be reduced by half; without the burden of food and clothing, rulers and ministers would have no way to command one another. This is probably a saying that has circulated since ancient times.

"Even a farmer who sits will be killed" means that for a person of humble station, accustomed to working in the fields, being made to sit idle is enough to make him unbearable, even without knife or spear. Because he has always taken labor as the norm, a sudden fall into ease may make him ill and leave his bones aching. Were the rulers of the states of Shang and Lu to exchange their circumstances with people working in the fields, even for a moment, they would be unable to endure it.

Du Fu said: "Whether high or low, all are subject to sorrow; whether rich or poor, each finds contentment." The meaning of this chapter seems close to these words: human life is nothing more than a matter of habit. If everyone were accustomed to toil and plain food, not knowing that worldly splendor and pleasure existed, they would feel they lacked nothing. When distracting thoughts cease, one is at peace wherever one is. These words are truly worth pondering.

Those who live in the fields are content with the lives they know. They take what lies before them to be the best, and often assume nothing in the world could be better. This is because they are familiar only with what they have seen and do not know that other ways of living exist.

Long ago, a farmer in the state of Song wore clothes made of tattered hemp wadding and barely got through the winter. When spring came, he went out to work his fields, basked in the sunshine, and felt wonderfully comfortable. He did not know that the world held spacious great halls, warm inner chambers, and garments of silk floss and fox fur. He said to his wife, "No one else knows how good the warmth of the sun feels. If I tell the ruler about it, I am sure to be richly rewarded." The story illustrates the limits of his understanding, for he saw only the small benefit before his eyes.

A wealthy man in the village told him this tale: "Once there was a man who thought soybeans, hemp seeds, celery soup, and duckweed seeds were all delicious, and he praised them to the local gentry. The gentry tasted them, but they were pungent and stinging on the tongue, and after swallowing them they upset the stomach. The crowd laughed at him and blamed him, and the man was deeply ashamed." The story describes exactly this kind of person, who takes what he finds good for himself to be the finest thing under heaven, when it may not suit others at all.

Yang Zhu said, "Spacious houses, fine clothes, delicious food, and beautiful women: having these four things, what more is there to seek outside? To keep seeking outward things even after one possesses them is insatiable greed, and insatiable desire is the calamity that harms the Qi (vital energy) of Yin-Yang." The point is that if a person already has the necessities of life yet still single-mindedly pursues fame, rank, and other external things, this is immoderate greed, and in the end it wears down one's own being.

If loyalty is not enough to steady the ruler, it only places oneself in danger; if righteousness is not enough to benefit all things, it only harms oneself. If the ruler's stability does not come from one's own loyalty, then the name of loyalty loses its meaning. If the benefit of all things does not come from one's own righteousness, then the name of righteousness cannot stand. When ruler and minister are both secure, and all things and the self both benefit, this is what the ancients called the Dao (the Way).

This chapter also criticizes those who deliberately build a reputation for loyalty and righteousness. The author holds that insisting on loyalty may endanger oneself, and insisting on righteousness may harm one's life. This is pursuing external reputation while neglecting one's inner nature. The foundation of steadying the ruler lies in following nature, so how could it be accomplished by the loyalty of any single person? The principle of benefiting all things also lies in following nature, so how could it be achieved by the righteousness of any single person? If one seeks a name for loyalty and righteousness out of private motives, that reputation will dissipate and only bring entanglements. It is better to follow nature, so that ruler and minister are both secure and all things and the self both benefit. This is what is meant by the ancient Way.

Yu Zi (traditionally regarded as a thinker of the Spring and Autumn period) said, "Abandon fame, and there will be no worry." Laozi said, "Fame is merely an appendage to substance." Yet people in the world still chase fame without pause. Can fame truly be abandoned, and is it truly merely an appendage? Today, having fame means being respected and enjoying glory, while lacking it means being lowly and suffering humiliation. To be honored is to be at ease and joyful; to be disgraced is to be anxious and pained. Sorrow runs against one's nature, while ease and joy accord with it, and this is precisely what actual life depends on. How, then, can fame be abandoned, or treated as a mere appendage? What is truly to be despised is clinging to fame to the point of harming actual life. If one clings to fame and harms oneself, one will ultimately be unable to rescue oneself from ruin and death. How could this be merely a matter of gain and loss between ease, joy, sorrow, and pain?

Those who do not chase after fame are free of worry. Fame is merely an appendage of actual things. This saying comes from Yuzi and Laozi, and people have long known it. Yet ordinary people in the world still pursue fame single-mindedly and cannot stop. Could the words of these two worthies really persuade them?

"Bin" refers to what is external, an attached appendage. But since fame cannot be separated from reality, it is hard to treat it as something of no consequence. Today's people regard renown as honor and glory, and take it as joy. They regard obscurity as humiliation and lowliness, and take it as suffering. They believe that suffering runs against one's xing (nature) and that joy accords with it, so they endlessly pursue fame. People see accord or violation of xing as matters of immediate personal gain and loss, and so it naturally seems to them that they cannot refrain from pursuing it.

Seen this way, although Yuzi and Laozi wished to make people set fame aside, how could they truly make people do so? Though they wished people to regard fame as an external thing, how could they truly bring this about? At this point the author turns and points out that although worldly people cannot put fame down, they should not value it too highly or cling to it excessively, for otherwise they will ultimately be burdened by it. If even the root of yangsheng (nourishing life) is endangered and they face irreversible peril, what leisure remains to distinguish bitterness from joy? "Xu" means worry. The general sense is that people who endlessly seek fame may ultimately injure themselves through it. They crave joy and fear suffering, yet may end up reaching the point of self-destruction.

The Zhuangzi has a chapter called "Dechong Fu" (Dechong Fu, "The Sign of Virtue Complete"), but this chapter is called "Shuo Fu" (Shuo Fu, "Explaining the Tally"). Both titles use the word fu (tally or token), but with different meanings. Here fu means "matching" or "agreeing," so the title refers to how words of ultimate principle corroborate the Way of Heaven and human sentiment and reason. That is why the chapter is called "Explaining the Tally."

The Liezi has eight chapters in all. Only the first and last carry titles of this kind. The six in the middle take their titles from the first two words of each chapter. Lin Xiyi suggests that this arrangement may not have been part of the original Liezi.

Liezi studied under Huqiu Zilin. Huqiu Zilin said, "If you understand how not to get ahead of things, you may then speak of how to preserve yourself." Liezi asked, "How does one avoid getting ahead of things?" Huqiu Zilin replied, "Look at your shadow, and you will understand." Liezi turned to observe his shadow. When the body bent, the shadow bent; when the body stood upright, the shadow was straight. From this he saw that the straightness or crookedness of the shadow follows the body and is not determined by the shadow itself. A person's bending and stretching, advancing and retreating, should likewise accord with external things rather than be forced by subjective will. This is what is meant by not getting ahead of things, and by doing so one comes to occupy a favorable position.

Guanyin said to Liezi, "Well said. When the words are good, the replies will be pleasant; when the words are poor, the replies will be harsh. A tall body casts a long shadow; a short body casts a short one. Reputation is like an echo, and a person's conduct and circumstances are like a shadow. Therefore one must be careful in speech, for others will echo what you say, and careful in conduct, for others will follow what you do. The sage knows a person from the words and deeds he displays, and infers what lies ahead from what he has done before. This is the principle of understanding affairs in advance."

"The measure lies within oneself, while verification depends on others. When others love me, I will surely love them in return; when others hate me, I will surely hate them in return. Tang of Shang and King Wu of Zhou cherished the realm under heaven, and so they accomplished their kingship. Jie of Xia and Zhou of Shang were hated by the people under heaven, and so they perished. This is using others as verification. Once one has understood both the measure and the verification, to act without following the Dao (the Way) is like leaving home without using the door or walking without following the path. To seek gain in this manner is surely very difficult. I have examined the virtue of Shennong and the Youyan clan, consulted the records of Yu, Xia, Shang, and Zhou, and weighed them against the words of the law-masters and worthy men. In every matter concerning the survival or fall, rise or decline, of a state, none has failed to follow this principle."

"Chi hou" (holding back) means not rushing ahead of the myriad things. Only by keeping to a position of humility and yielding can one preserve oneself, and only by placing oneself low can one sustain oneself.

As for the phrase "like a shadow," it means that just as a shadow bends or straightens with the form it follows, so I bend and extend in response to changes in external things. A shadow does not rush ahead of its form, and I do not rush ahead of external things. One who holds to this principle can often stand before the myriad things. This is also the meaning of "not contending, yet skilled at winning."

"Yan" (speech) means sound. An echo answers a sound, just as a shadow reflects a form. Without seeking fame, fame comes of its own accord; without valuing oneself, one's self comes to stand in front. To accord with things, as an echo answers a sound and a shadow follows a form, without clinging to one's own form and sound, is to have attained the Dao. The Way of the sage is exactly this. He does not deliberately issue commands, and the people naturally harmonize; he does not deliberately act, and the people naturally follow. This is the necessity of principle, just as going out must be followed by coming back in, and departure must in the end return. Others do not know this, but the sage does, and this is the sage's foresight. One might also say that he states first the principle that the multitude already shared in their hearts.

"Du" (measure) means standard. "Measuring things with a standard" means examining and weighing them, and "measure in the body" means taking oneself as the standard for examining others. What others love in me, I too should love; what others hate in me, I too should hate. This speaks to the way human hearts communicate, with love and hatred largely the same across people. Shang Tang (Tang of Shang) and Zhou Wu Wang (King Wu of Zhou) therefore won the affection of all under heaven and were able to rule it. Xia Jie (Jie of Xia) and Shang Zhou (Zhou of Shang) did not follow this principle, were hated by all under heaven, and therefore lost their states. These events have already occurred and can serve as grounds for examination: from the cases of Tang and King Wu set against Jie and Zhou, the principle can be seen.

Since the principle is this clear, to still not follow the Dao is like not going out through the door or walking along the road, yet wishing to gain benefit while avoiding harm, which is truly difficult. Shennong (Shennong), Yandi (Yan Di), and the rise and fall of the Yu, Xia, Shang, and Zhou dynasties are all precedents that have been verified. From antiquity, the principles spoken by fashi (jurists) and worthies have been broadly similar. To wish to investigate the causes of a state's rise, decline, survival, and fall while not following this principle has never happened.

This passage is concise and its argument is upright, but it differs greatly from what the book says before and after it. Is the earlier material deliberately speaking in reverse irony, so that this section is the solemn orthodox discourse? Or is the text before and after mixed and miscellaneous, not the work of a single school?

Yan Hui said, "When I first asked you for the Dao, I wanted it in order to seek wealth. Now that I have obtained the precious pearl, I am already rich. What further need do I have for the Dao?" Lie Zi replied, "Jie of Xia and Zhou of Shang valued profit and despised righteousness, and that is why they perished. Fortunately, I have not yet explained the principle to you. If a person has no sense of righteousness and knows only eating and drinking, he is no different from chickens and dogs. Competing to eat (qiangshi) and butting horns against one another (mijiao), the strong dominate the weak; this is the conduct of birds and beasts. To become like chickens, dogs, or beasts and yet still expect others to respect you is impossible. When others do not respect you, danger and disgrace will surely arrive."

"Competing to eat" (qiangshi) means snatching food, and "butting horns" (mijiao) means striking at one another with horns. The strong oppressing the weak is the way of beasts. When a person does not understand the principle and pursues only food and drink, his conduct is no different from that of beasts, and in the end he will bring upon himself danger and disgrace. This passage does not seem to come from the original Liezi, but the principle it expresses is sound.

Lie Zi was learning archery. When he could hit the target, he went to consult Guan Yinzi. Guan Yinzi asked, "Do you know why you are able to hit the mark?" Lie Zi answered, "I do not know." Guan Yinzi said, "That is not enough." Lie Zi then returned to continue his practice. Three years later, he came back to report to Guan Yinzi, who asked again, "Do you know why you are able to hit the mark?" Lie Zi answered, "I know now." Guan Yinzi said, "Then you should keep this principle firmly in mind and not lose it. This applies not only to archery but also to governing a state and to learning any craft." Three more years passed, and Lie Zi reported once more. Guan Yinzi asked, "Do you know why you are able to hit the mark?" Lie Zi answered, "I know." Guan Yinzi said, "You must hold on to this principle and not forget it. This holds not only for archery but also for governing a state and cultivating oneself. Therefore, the sage does not merely observe whether affairs succeed or fail, whether they survive or perish, but inquires into the causes that bring about these outcomes."

At the outset, Guanyinzi asked the disciple what "the central" (zhong, that which accords with the Middle Way, zhongdao) is. When the disciple answered "I do not know," this showed that the disciple had not yet grasped the Middle Way. When Guanyinzi asked again and the disciple answered "I know," this showed that the Middle Way had been grasped. Guanyinzi then warned the disciple to hold fast to it and not lose it, meaning that the disciple should keep it constantly in practice and not let it slip from memory.

Yet once one knows what "the central" is, this is no longer the "knowing that is not knowing" (wuzhi zhi zhi). And once one is bent on holding on to it without letting go, this is no longer a teaching of yielding to change and merging with the Dao (Dao). "Existence and extinction" (cunwang) are phenomena that can be seen, while "the reason why it is so" (suoranzhi) is the principle within them. Judging from discussions of this kind, the text does not resemble the doctrines of Zhuangzi or Liezi. It comes closer to the Confucians, and for this reason some scholars have doubted that this material was originally part of the book.

Liezi said: "Those whose appearance is at its peak are prone to arrogance, and those whose physical strength is at its height are prone to showing off. Such people cannot be spoken to about the Dao. Even those with white hair are not spoken to about the Dao, let alone asked to practice it. When a person devotes themselves only to their own striving, others have no opportunity to guide them, and when others cannot guide them, they become isolated and helpless. The wise are skilled at employing others, so even in old age their work does not decline, and even when their own wisdom is exhausted, they do not fall into disorder. Therefore the difficulty in governing a state lies in knowing how to recognize worthy people, not in regarding oneself as wise."

"Appearance at its peak" refers to an air of haughtiness in one's bearing. "Physical strength at its height" refers to relying on bravery to prevail. Here "white-haired" (banbai) means having grey hair.

Those with ruddy complexions tend to display their arrogance and self-regard on their faces, and those of great physical strength often rely on their might to compete and prevail. Those whose hair has not yet turned gray have not experienced the world deeply and do not yet understand its ways. With such shallow experience, how could they grasp the right and wrong, gain and loss, within the Dao (the Way)? To try to explain it to them is already inappropriate, let alone expect them to put it into practice.

"Self-exertion" (zifen) means showing off one's own abilities, and "self-reliance" (ziyong) means being stubbornly self-willed. When one harbors self-satisfied notions, who would be willing to share good principles with them? When no one comes to offer guidance, they are left isolated and without help. When one grows old, although physical strength has declined, one can entrust others with labor on one's behalf; although wisdom may be exhausted, one can ask others for counsel, and in this way affairs will not fall into disorder. What is valuable in a person lies not in boasting of one's own talent, but in knowing how to recognize capable people. The Gongyang Commentary says: "To honor the worthy is itself virtue, and to let the worthy display their talents is also virtue." The meaning is the same as here. This discussion is quite apt, though it is unclear whether it truly originates from the Liezi (Liè Zǐ).

In the state of Song, a man carved a paper mulberry leaf out of jade for his ruler, spending three years to complete it. The pointed tips and stems were finely carved, the dense and numerous veins were detailed, and the color was lustrous. When it was mixed among real paper mulberry leaves, it could not be told apart. Through this skill, the man made his living in Song. Liezi heard of this and said: "If Heaven and Earth also took three years to grow a single leaf, then leafy plants would be very rare. Therefore, the sage relies on the natural transformation of the Dao, not on human cleverness."

"Edge" (feng) refers to the angular contours of the leaf, "carving" (sha) refers to cutting and trimming, "hairline" (haomang) refers to the minute veins on the leaf, "dense" (fan) means the veins are closely packed, and "luster" (ze) means the color is glossy and soft. "Transformation through the Dao" (daohua) refers to acting in accord with naturalness (ziran) and transforming through non-action (Wuwei), while "cleverness" (zhiqiao) refers to contrived human ingenuity. This analogy is very apt.

Liezi lived in poverty, and his face showed the pallor of hunger. A guest……

Liezi lived in poverty, and his face showed the pallor of hunger. Someone told Zi Yang of the state of Zheng, "Lie Yukou is probably a man of the Dao (the Way). Yet he lives in your state and is still this poor. Could it be that you do not value worthy scholars?" Zi Yang then sent an official to deliver grain to Liezi.

Liezi came out to meet the messenger, bowed twice, and declined the gift. After the messenger left, Liezi went back inside. His wife beat her chest and said to him, "I have heard that the wives of people who possess the Dao (the Way) live in comfort and happiness. Yet I am so hungry that my face has gone sallow. The ruler feels he has neglected you, Sir, and has specially sent grain, but you refuse it. Is this not fate?" Liezi smiled and replied, "The ruler does not truly understand me. He sent grain only because he heard what others said. If he later wishes to blame me, it will also be because he heard what others said. That is precisely why I refuse his grain." Later, the common people did indeed rise up and kill Zi Yang.

Lin Xiyi explains that Zi Yang came to know of Liezi only through the talk of others, so he might just as easily come to blame Liezi on the strength of others' talk. Since the two had never really known each other, Zi Yang was merely credulous toward what others said, and how could such a relationship bring anyone peace of mind? Wei Yang (Shang Yang) once made a similar remark: if a ruler cannot employ a man on the strength of his words, he certainly cannot put that man to death on the strength of his words. The sense here is close to Liezi's situation. Lin Xiyi believes this passage resembles a saying circulating in the Warring States (Zhanguo) period, and that it is also a tale worth savoring. The phrase "the ruler erred and so sent the gentleman food" means that the ruler felt he had wronged a worthy scholar and therefore sent grain to make amends.

The Shi family of Lu had two sons. One loved learning and studied statecraft. The other was devoted to the art of war. The scholarly son sought an audience with the Marquis of Qi, presenting his knowledge of governing, and the Marquis accepted him and appointed him tutor to the princes. The martial son went to Chu and presented his military expertise to the King of Chu, who was so pleased that he appointed him Military Commissioner (junzheng, the official in charge of military affairs). As a result, the Shi family grew wealthy, and their relatives received high rank and titles.

The Meng family, who lived next door, also had two sons. Their skills were the same as the Shi sons', but their household was poor. Envious of the Shi family's wealth and status, Meng asked the Shis how one might win an official post. The two Shi sons told him honestly what they had done.

One of the Meng sons went to Qin and presented his knowledge of statecraft to the King of Qin. The King said, "Now the feudal states are fighting one another, and what matters most is only armaments and grain. To govern a state by benevolence and righteousness is to seek one's own destruction." He then had the son subjected to castration (the punishment of removing the genitals) and banished him. The other son went to Wei and presented his knowledge of warfare to the Marquis of Wei. The Marquis said, "We are a small state caught between great powers. To serve the great and pacify the small is the way to secure peace. If you rely on military power, our downfall is not far off. And if I let you return home with your body intact, you might become a danger to us once you reach another state." So they cut off his feet and sent him back to Lu.

When the Meng father and sons returned, they beat their chests and blamed the Shis. Shi said, "When the right moment comes, one prospers; when it is missed, one declines. Your skills are the same as mine, but your results are different. This is because you did not meet the right moment, not because your methods were wrong. Moreover, in the world there is no principle that is always right or always wrong, and no affair that is always to be done or always to be avoided. A method used in the past may be abandoned today, and a method abandoned today may be useful again later. So there is no fixed standard of right and wrong for using or not using something. Seizing opportunities, following the currents of the times, and responding to circumstances as they arise depends on wisdom. If wisdom is lacking, then even someone as learned as Confucius or as skilled in strategy as Lü Shang would still fall into difficulty wherever they went."

Having heard this, the Meng father and sons were appeased. They no longer grew angry and said, "We understand now. You need not say any more."

Though their scholarship is the same, people's fortunes may differ. Fortune can be good or bad, and this is what is called destiny (ming). "The previous day" (xianri) here means the day before. "Seizing gaps and meeting the moment" (touxi dishi) means watching for openings in circumstances and responding to them as they arise. There is no fixed method for this; it belongs to the cleverness of adapting on the spot. Hence the saying: "There is no fixed method for dealing with affairs; it belongs to cleverness." The gist of the passage is this: you knew that being studious and skilled in warfare could be used to win office through persuasion, but you could not adapt at the right moment, and so you suffered amputation of the feet (yuexing) as a punishment. This happened because you lacked cleverness. The statement sits somewhat uneasily with the earlier claim that one relies on the transforming influence of the Dao (Dao), not on cleverness. "Repeated words" (zhongyan) means that there is no need to restate what has already been said.

Duke Wen of Jin went out to hold an alliance meeting and intended to attack Wei. Gongzi Chu looked up and laughed loudly. Duke Wen asked him what he was laughing at. Gongzi Chu replied, "I am laughing at a neighbor who was escorting his wife back to her parents' home. On the road he met a woman picking mulberry leaves, took a liking to her, and stopped to talk with her. When he turned around, though, he saw that his own wife was being courted by someone else as well. It is this that I was privately laughing at." Duke Wen understood his meaning, so he called off the attack on Wei and led his army home. Before they reached Jin, they heard that someone was attacking Jin's northern border.

This chapter has parallels with the story in the "Biographies of the Humorists" (Huaji Liezhuan) in the Records of the Grand Historian (Shiji). The gist is that you should not impose on others what you would not wish to bear yourself. If you can put a burden on others, they may likewise put the same burden on you.

Jin suffered greatly from bandits. Xi Qiyong was skilled at recognizing the faces of bandits, able to read their character and circumstances from the brows and eyes. When the Marquis of Jin sent him to apprehend bandits, not one of the hundreds or thousands he identified was missed. The Marquis was pleased and said to Zhao Wenzi, "I have found a man who could turn this skill upon me."

The state of Jin suffered greatly from bandits. There was a man named Xi Yong who was skilled at reading the expressions of thieves. By looking only at their brows and eyes, he could tell what kind of people they were. When the Marquis of Jin ordered him to hunt down the bandits, nearly all those he identified were caught. The marquis was delighted and said to Zhao Wenzi, "Now that I have such a man, every bandit in the realm can be captured. Why would we need anyone else?"

Zhao Wenzi replied, "When the ruler relies on peering and discernment to catch bandits, the bandits will never be exhausted, and Xi Yong is sure to come to a bad end." Before long, the bandits conferred among themselves: "What has put us in this predicament is Xi Yong." So they acted together and, seizing the chance, killed him.

On hearing of this, the marquis was greatly shaken and immediately summoned Zhao Wenzi. "It is just as you said: Xi Yong is dead. Then how can the bandits be stopped?" Zhao Wenzi said, "There is a saying from the Zhou region: 'To see the fish in the deep abyss is no auspicious matter; to infer hidden affairs invites calamity.' If my lord wishes to have no bandits, it would be better to select worthy and capable men to govern, so that the teaching from above is clear and the customs below are transformed, and the common people develop a sense of shame in their hearts. Would anyone then still become a bandit?"

Thereupon Jin appointed Sui Hui, a grandee of Jin, to direct the affairs of state, and the bandits fled in droves to Qin.

The meaning of this chapter is that excessively exposing treachery and hunting out what is hidden will instead stir the people's inclination to strife. Confucius said, "In hearing lawsuits, I am no different from others; what matters is to bring it about that there are no lawsuits." He also said, "As long as those in high positions do not covet private gain, even if one rewards people for stealing, no one will steal." This is precisely the principle at issue.

Confucius was returning from the state of Wei to Lu, and he stopped his carriage at a bridge over a river to look. He saw a waterfall thirty ren high, with churning currents stretching ninety li, where fish and turtles could not swim through and even soft-shelled turtles and alligators could not dwell. Yet a man was about to cross the water. Confucius had people go along the bank to urge him to stop, saying, "This waterfall is thirty ren high, and its churning currents stretch ninety li. Fish and turtles cannot pass through, and even soft-shelled turtles and alligators cannot live there. I fear it must be very hard to cross." The man paid no mind to the danger of the rushing water. He crossed at once and came safely ashore.

Confucius asked him, "Are you especially skilled, or have you mastered some Daoist arts (daoshu)? How is it that you could go in and come out again?" The man replied, "When I first entered the water, I relied on sincerity. When I came out, I still relied on sincerity." Confucius asked again, and the man gave the same answer: "I place sincerity within myself and let my body rise and fall with the waves. I do not allow the slightest trace of private intention, and so I can enter the water and come out safely."

Confucius said to his disciples, "Remember this. If one can face water with sincerity, with a wholly genuine heart, how much more so can one get along with other people?"

The character li here means to wade across water. The Classic of Poetry (Shijing) says, "Where the water is deep, one wades; where it is shallow, one lifts one's hem," meaning that in deep water one crosses by wading, and in shallow water one gathers up one's clothes to cross. "Not setting the mind on it" means not keeping the dangers of the waves in one's thoughts. The commentator holds that "sincerity" here means genuineness: entering the current with a genuine heart, without the least trace of private intention, is why one can go in and out of the water. However, this "sincerity" should not be understood in the usual sense of keeping one's word or being trustworthy. It roughly means pure genuineness.

The commentator further notes that the first half of this chapter is identical to the story of Lüliang in the Huangdi (Yellow Emperor) chapter, and therefore suspects that the Liezi as a whole may contain interpolated material. He also holds that phrases such as "first relied on sincerity" and "still relied on sincerity" differ in style from the language of the Zhuangzi and the Liezi. Because the man still speaks of "relying on sincerity" as a support, a thought of deliberately depending on something remains in his mind, which shows that he has not yet reached the state of complying with nature and forgetting the self entirely.

Duke Bai asked Confucius, "May one speak with someone about hidden and profound matters?" Confucius did not answer. Duke Bai asked again, "If you throw a stone into water, what happens?" Confucius replied, "A man of Wu who is skilled at diving can retrieve it." Duke Bai asked, "And if you pour water into water?" Confucius said, "When the waters of the Zi and the Mian are mixed, Yi Ya (a man of the Spring and Autumn period renowned for his discernment of flavors) can tell them apart by tasting." Duke Bai then asked, "Truly, can one not speak of what is hidden?" Confucius answered, "How could one not? Only one who truly understands words can grasp this. To understand words is not merely to cling to the words themselves. Those who compete to catch fish get their bodies wet, and those who chase wild beasts run swiftly, yet they do these things not for the enjoyment of getting wet or running. The highest speech is not expressed through words, and the highest action leaves no trace of action. What people of shallow understanding dispute is only the twigs and branches." Duke Bai had no recourse, and in the end he died in a bathroom.

Lin Xiyi explains that "subtle words" (weiyan) are veiled speech. Duke Bai wished to rebel but did not dare say so openly, so he used veiled language to probe Confucius and seek his decision. Confucius understood his meaning and therefore gave no reply. A stone that sinks into water without showing itself symbolizes the non-action (Wuwei) of leaving no trace. Shallow understanding only argues over surface branches, while Duke Bai, at last with no plan left, died in the bathroom.

"Weiyan" (subtle words) means veiled speech. Bai Gong wanted to stir up rebellion but did not dare say so openly, so he asked Confucius a question in order to probe for a decision. Confucius understood what he meant and so gave no answer. Casting a stone into water and still being able to retrieve it from the bottom describes something easy to do. Pouring water into water, which seems hard to tell apart, can still be known to Yi Ya. The point is roughly this: the Dao cannot truly be concealed, and even when words are made obscure, no one is entirely unaware of their meaning. Bai Gong still did not grasp this and asked again whether there were hidden sayings that could not be understood. Confucius's reply, "bu ke" ("it cannot be"), was most likely a rhetorical question: are there truly hidden sayings that cannot be understood? Those who grasp the principle will understand them naturally. Understanding the principle behind speech lies not only in the words themselves but also beyond them, which is why it is said that one does not use words to express it.

Those who compete for fish must enter the water, so would they not get their bodies wet? Those who chase wild beasts must enter the mountains, so would they not run themselves weary and harm their vital energy? Pursuing external things at the cost of oneself is not worthy of being called joy. These lines already implicitly satirize the unreasonable scheming of Bai Gong.

"Zhiyan" (supreme words) refers to the Dao: words are not enough to exhaust the Dao, and only by setting words aside does one approach it. "Zhiwei" (supreme action) also refers to the Dao: deliberate action is not enough to exhaust the Dao, and one must practice Wuwei (non-action) to accord with it. Whoever competes with the world through shallow cleverness is not someone who understands the root. The overall meaning of this chapter is that the mind of competition should never arise. Bai Gong understood these words, yet he could not restrain himself, and in the end he still launched the rebellion and lost his life. "Budeyi" (unable to help it) means being unable to restrain oneself.

This chapter is identical in content to the "Daoying Xun" chapter of the Huainanzi. Had the Liezi already been completed by the reign of Emperor Jing of Han, the Huainanzi would not have copied it in full. From this one may conclude that the Liezi we have today may not be the original text.

Zhao Xiangzi sent his retainer Xin Zhimu-zi to attack Di, the land of the Di people, and the campaign succeeded. Xin seized the two cities of Zuo and Zhong and dispatched a courier to report the victory. When the courier arrived, Zhao Xiangzi was at his meal, yet his face showed concern. Those beside him asked, "Taking two cities in a single day is cause for joy. Why do you instead look troubled?"

Zhao Xiangzi replied, "Even the greatest rivers rise and fall within three days. Violent winds and driving rain do not last a whole morning, and the sun at its height cannot remain there for long. Our house of Zhao has not yet accumulated the de (Virtue) needed to bestow benefits on the common people. Now that we have taken two cities in one day, I fear that calamity will come upon us because of it."

Confucius heard of this and said, "The House of Zhao will likely prosper. Anxiety can bring a family to prosperity, while self-satisfaction and delight invite ruin. Winning battles is not difficult; the difficulty lies in preserving victory. Wise rulers are able to hold on to their victories, and so their blessings extend to later generations. Qi, Chu, Wu, and Yue each won many times, yet in the end they went to ruin, because they did not know how to preserve what they had won. Only a ruler who follows the Dao (Way) can keep his victories."

Xianzhai explains: Xin Zhimu-zi was a retainer of Zhao Xiangzi. Di is the same as Di; Zuo and Zhong are the names of two cities; and the ju (couriers) were the post-runners who carried messages. The line "violent winds and driving rain do not last a whole morning" is taken from the Laozi (Dao De Jing). The phrase "the sun at its height cannot remain there for long" means that the sun will soon begin to decline. What Zhao Xiangzi feared was that the House of Zhao had not yet built up enough de to bestow benefits on the people, and yet had suddenly gained two cities, which might lead to defeat through arrogance. Only one who knows how to be anxious can be secure, while one who is self-satisfied easily invites disaster. Thus, winning battles is not difficult; preserving victory is what is truly hard.

Confucius had great physical strength and could lift the bar of a capital city gate, yet he did not want to be known for his strength. Mozi was skilled at defense. Gongshu Ban (a craftsman skilled in making siege engines) could not take the city Mozi defended and in the end admitted defeat, but Mozi also did not want to be known for his mastery of military strategy. Therefore, a person who is good at keeping the advantage often appears humble and yielding.

"Zha" (to lift) is the same as "ju" (to raise). "Not known for strength" means that Confucius did not want people to praise his strength but hoped they would value his De (Virtue). Gongshu Ban made siege engines with great ingenuity, yet he could not breach Mozi's defenses and had to submit. Mozi was likewise not known for military mastery. Here the stories of these two men serve as an analogy: one who is truly strong knows how to restrain his sharpness, and even when holding the advantage, remains humble as if he were in a weaker position.

In the state of Song, there was a man whose family had practiced ren (benevolence) and yi (righteousness) for three generations. One day, his black ox unexpectedly gave birth to a white calf. He asked Confucius about it, and Confucius said, "This is an auspicious sign, and it may be used to sacrifice to Shangdi (the Lord on High)." A year later, his father suddenly went blind, and the black ox again gave birth to a white calf. The father then told his son to ask Confucius again. The son objected, "Last time we asked, Father went blind right afterward. Why ask again?" The father replied, "The words of a sage may seem not to come true at first and only be fulfilled later. The matter has not yet reached its outcome, so let us ask once more." The son went and asked again. Confucius still said, "This is an auspicious sign," and taught him to use the white calf in sacrifice. When the son returned and reported this, the father said, "Let us do as Confucius says." A year later, the son too suddenly went blind.

Later, the state of Chu attacked Song and surrounded its city. Within the city, the people exchanged their children to eat, and they split human bones to burn as firewood. The able-bodied men all climbed the walls to fight, and more than half of them died. This man and his son, both suffering from eye disease, were spared from defending the city. When the siege was lifted, their eye ailments also recovered.

The principle of this chapter resembles the tale of Saiweng Lost His Horse: what seems auspicious may bring misfortune, and what seems dangerous may turn into good fortune. Confucius's words "first contrary, then in accord" (xian wu hou he) mean that at first things seem not to work, but later the course of events reveals the principle within them. Because the father and son were blind, they did not take part in the defense, so they escaped the deaths and injuries that others suffered. When the siege was lifted, their eyesight also healed.

The meaning of this chapter is close to the story of the old man on the frontier who lost his horse (Saiweng shi ma): good fortune may turn into misfortune, and misfortune may turn into good fortune. The phrase "first contrary, later in accord" (xian wu hou he) means that something does not come true at first but later does. "Not yet investigated" (wei jiu) means that one does not yet know how the matter will finally turn out.

A man named Lanzi from the state of Song (Songguo) relied on his acrobatic skills to seek an audience with Duke Yuan of Song (Song Yuanjun). Duke Yuan summoned him to the palace to perform. He tied two long poles to his legs, longer than his own body, and walked and ran side by side on them. He also juggled seven swords, tossing them in turn, with five of them always in the air. Duke Yuan was greatly astonished and rewarded him with gold and silk.

Later, another Lanzi, skilled in performing acrobatics at banquets, heard that the first had been rewarded, and he too sought an audience with Duke Yuan. Duke Yuan was furious and said: "Earlier, a man with extraordinary skill came before me. His skill had no real use. It was only that I happened to be in a good mood, so I rewarded him with gold and silk. This man must have heard of that affair and come to perform, hoping for a reward as well." He then had the man detained and intended to punish him. A month passed before he was released.

"Tying two poles to the legs" refers to what is today called stilt walking, and juggling seven swords is also an acrobatic act that can still be seen. "Banquet entertainment" (yan xi) refers to entertaining skills performed between the courses of a feast. "Skill of no use" (ji wu yong) means that such a skill had no practical value for Duke Yuan; he rewarded the performer only because he was occasionally pleased. "Detained and intended to punish" (ju er ni lu) means being held in custody with the intention of penalizing him. The two men had similar skills but met with very different fates, which shows how difficult it is to foresee whether events will bring good or ill.

Duke Mu of Qin said to Bole, "You are old now. Do any of your descendants have the ability to be sent out to select horses?" Bole replied, "A good horse can be recognized by its outward form and its sinews and bones. But the finest horse under heaven seems to vanish from sight, as if it were there and yet not there. Such a horse, when it gallops, leaves no trail of dust, and even a flying arrow cannot catch up with it. My descendants have ordinary talents. I can teach them to recognize good horses, but I cannot teach them to recognize the finest horse under heaven. I have a friend who used to carry firewood and gather vegetables with me, named Jiu Fangao. His skill at judging horses is no inferior to mine. Please allow me to introduce him."

Duke Mu met Jiu Fangao and sent him to look for a fine horse. Three months later, Jiu Fangao returned to report, "I have found one. It is at Shaqiu." Duke Mu asked, "What kind of horse is it?" Jiu Fangao answered, "A yellow mare." Men were sent to lead the horse back, but it turned out to be a black stallion. Duke Mu was greatly displeased. He summoned Bole and said, "The man you recommended is useless. He cannot even tell a horse's color or its sex. How could he possibly understand how to judge horses?"

Bole sighed deeply and said, "Has it really come to this? This is exactly why Jiu Fangao's talent far surpasses mine and cannot be measured. Jiu Fangao judges horses by inner insight. He grasps the essence of a horse and disregards its outward details. He values what is within and sets aside what is without. He looks at what he needs to see and does not look at what he need not see. He observes the crucial points and discards what is irrelevant. The art of judging horses that Jiu Fangao practices is worth far more than merely looking at a horse's outward form." When the horse was led back, it was indeed one of the finest horses under heaven.

"Zixing" (zixing) refers to the offspring the horse produced, since xing here means sheng, "to give birth." "Tianxia zhi ma" (tianxia zhi ma) refers to the finest horses in the world. "Mie mo wang shi" (mie mo wang shi) means that its movements are elusive and cannot be sought by its outward form. "Jue chen" (jue chen) describes a horse racing off so swiftly that the dust it raises cannot catch up with it, and "mi zhe" (mi zhe) means that after it passes it leaves no trace of wheel ruts. "Yan chan" (yan chan) refers to ropes bound on its body.

"Sheng yu chen zhe yu qian wan shu er bu ke qiong" (sheng yu chen zhe yu qian wan shu er bu ke qiong) means that this horse far surpasses any horse the speaker, as a minister, has seen, so many that they cannot be counted. "Tianji" (tianji) refers to grasping the horse's innate nature without being bound to its outward form. "Suo jian" (suo jian) refers to what appears in that innate nature, and "nei suo bu jian" (nei suo bu jian) refers to features that cannot be grasped inwardly and appear only on the surface, such as coat color and sex. The phrase "bai yi" (bai yi) means that if you have people search for the horse by these outward features, they will likely fail. The grammar here is the same as in "he zai, ru suo wei da zhe" (he zai, ru suo wei da zhe), "what is it, the one you call accomplished."

King Zhuang of Chu (Chu Zhuangwang) asked Zhan He (Zhan He), "How should a state be governed?" Zhan He replied, "I understand how to cultivate myself, but I do not understand how to govern a state." The king said, "I have had the good fortune to inherit the ancestral temple and the altars of the land and grain, and I hope to learn how to protect the state." Zhan He replied, "I have never heard of a person who governed himself well while the state was in disorder, nor of a person who was himself in disorder while the state was well governed. Therefore the root lies in cultivating oneself, and I dare not answer only with the branch of governing the state." The king said, "Well said."

This passage concerns the root of governing the world and the state, which lies in cultivating the self. The author considers this discussion to be very well written.

Old Man Huqiu asked Sun Shuao, "Do you know of the three kinds of resentment and misfortune that people face?" Sun Shuao asked, "What are the three?" Old Man Huqiu replied, "When rank is high, people will envy you. When office is great, the ruler will come to dislike you. When stipend is abundant, resentment will follow."

Sun Shuao answered, "The higher my rank, the more humbly I hold my aspirations. The greater my office, the more cautious my heart. The more abundant my stipend, the more widely I bestow it on others. In this way I can avoid those three misfortunes. Would that be acceptable?"

When Sun Shuao lay gravely ill and near death, he admonished his son, saying, "The ruler has repeatedly wished to bestow honors upon me, and I have declined them all. After I die, if the ruler enfeoffs you, be sure not to accept a fertile fief. Between the borders of Chu and Yue there is a place called Qinqiu. Its soil is barren and its name is inauspicious. The people of Chu revere ghosts and spirits, and the people of Yue trust in divination and omens. Only such a place can be kept for a long time." After Sun Shuao died, the ruler indeed wished to grant his son fertile land. The son declined and requested instead to be enfeoffed at Qinqiu. The ruler gave him Qinqiu, and this fief has been preserved to the present day.

The name Qinqiu sounds like a burial ground, which is why it was said to be inauspicious. To say that the land is "unfavorable" means that it is unfavorable to its holder. The people of Chu believe in ghosts and spirits, and the people of Yue value divination and omens. Most people would disdain such land and not compete for it, and so it may instead be kept for a long time. The meaning here is this: whatever others have abandoned and no one contends for, one can take and rest in securely.

Niu Que was a renowned Confucian scholar from the Shangdi region. On his way down to Handan, he encountered bandits at Ousha, and his clothing, baggage, and carriage were all seized. The surviving text goes on to describe Niu Que, but the passage here is incomplete.

Niu Que was a renowned Confucian scholar from Shangdi. On his journey down to Handan, he was waylaid by bandits at Ousha. They took his clothing, his belongings, and his carriage. Niu Que set off on foot, cheerful and showing no sign of grief or regret. The bandits caught up with him and asked why he was like this.

Niu Que replied, "A gentleman does not harm the De (Virtue) he has cultivated for the sake of protecting external things." The bandits sighed, "He is truly a worthy man!" Then they conferred privately: "With his reputation for worth, if he were employed by the lord of Zhao, he would certainly regard us as a thorn in his side and bring us trouble. We had better kill him." They then went after Niu Que and killed him.

When the people of Yan heard of this, they gathered their clans and warned one another: "When you meet bandits, deal with them the way Niu Que of Shangdi did." Everyone accepted the lesson. Not long afterward, Niu Que's younger brother went to the state of Qin. At a pass, he indeed met bandits. Recalling his brother's fate, he fought with them over his belongings. Failing to win, he chased after the bandits and begged them, humbly and insistently, to return his property. The bandits angrily said, "I have already spared your life, which is generous enough, yet you still pursue us. If this continues, it will leave a trace. Since I have already become a bandit, what use is there in speaking of benevolence and righteousness?" They then killed Niu Que's younger brother and, in addition, four or five of their own companions.

"Xia zhi Handan" (going down to Handan) means that Shangdi is high in elevation while Handan is low, so going from Shangdi to Handan is described as "going down." "Ousha" is a place name. "Shi yi wei wo" (letting him take us as his own) means "if he were employed in his age." "Bi yi wei wo jiedi" (he would certainly regard us as a thorn in his side) means that he would surely see us as a worry lodged in his heart.

This chapter illustrates that the misfortunes a person encounters are not determined solely by whether they are wise or foolish. Some people are able to escape calamity and some are not. There is, in the end, an unforeseeable allotment of fate that lies beyond the reach of human effort.

Yu Shi was a wealthy man of the state of Liang, with abundant estates and countless riches. He climbed a high tower overlooking the main road, set out music and banquet, and gambled with dice upstairs. Outside, a band of knights-errant (xiake) was passing by. As the men upstairs threw the dice and laughed at having rolled the throw called "Muxiyu" (Wood-Flapping Fish), a kite happened to drop a rotten rat, which struck one of the knights below.

The knights said to one another, "Yu Shi has enjoyed wealth and ease for a long time, and he often wears a look of contempt toward others. We have given him no offense, yet he humiliates us with a rotten rat. If we let this pass unavenged, we shall never establish a reputation for courage in the world." They agreed to join forces, led their followers, and destroyed the entire Yu household. Everyone consented. On the appointed night they gathered their men, readied their weapons, attacked Yu Shi, and in the end wiped out his whole family.

"Mingqiong" refers to dice and similar gaming implements. "Zhangzhong" means to spread out the gaming implements, with victory or defeat decided by whether the throw hits its mark. "Muxiyu" is the name of one particular dice throw. The commentary holds that the men upstairs were laughing at their game when the kite dropped the rotten rat, which by chance struck the knights outside. The two events were in fact unrelated, yet the knights vented their anger on Yu Shi and brought ruin upon his household. The passage illustrates that fortune and misfortune may arrive in unexpected ways. "Limin" means to establish a name for courage, and "denglun" refers to one's peers.

A man from the east named Yuan Jingmu was setting out on a journey when he collapsed from hunger on the road. A thief from Hufu named Qiu saw him, set down the jar of food he was carrying, and gave him something to eat. After three mouthfuls Yuan Jingmu regained his sight and asked, "Who are you?" Qiu replied, "I am a man of Hufu, and my name is Qiu." Yuan Jingmu said, "Alas, are you not a thief? Why do you give me food? By the principles of righteousness, I cannot eat what belongs to you." He braced his hands on the ground and vomited up everything he had eaten, retching until his throat made a gurgling sound, and then he fell face down and died.

Qiu of Hufu was a thief, but the meal he offered was not stolen. Because the man was a thief, Yuan Jingmu assumed that the food was stolen too and dared not eat it. This confuses a person's reputation with the actual circumstances of the matter at hand.

Yuan Jingmu is a personal name. This chapter means that when someone sighs and asks you to leave, you may leave; and when someone apologizes and invites you to eat, you may accept. Wuling Zhongzi rejected his brother's goose and preferred to go hungry rather than eat it, and Mencius criticized this same attitude.

Zhu Li Shu served Duke Ao of Ju, but he concluded that the duke did not understand him, so he left and lived by the sea. In summer he ate water chestnuts and the fruit of the water caltrop, and in winter he ate acorns. Later, when Duke Ao met with calamity, Zhu Li Shu bid farewell to his friends and went to die for him. A friend said, "You left originally because you felt he did not understand you. Now you go to die for him. In that case, what difference does it make whether he understands you or not?" Zhu Li Shu replied, "That is not so. I left originally because I believed he did not understand me. Now I go to die because I want to prove that he truly did not understand me. By doing this, I hope to make rulers of later generations ashamed of failing to perceive their ministers. When a ruler understands his minister, the minister will die for him; when a ruler does not understand his minister, the minister will not die for him. This is how one acts in accordance with the proper Way (Dao)." Zhu Li Shu may be said to have been so consumed by resentment that he forgot his own safety.

The account of Lang Shen recorded in the Zuo Zhuan carries the same meaning. He resented his lord for not valuing him and in the end lost his life, and this too was not acting in accordance with the proper Way. Zhu Li Shu's wish to shame future rulers for not knowing their ministers, however, was not a bad idea.

Events originate from oneself and receive their response from the outside world, so the worthy person is cautious about what they set in motion.

If I do something beneficial for others, the benefit will also return to me. If I fail to treat others in accordance with the proper Dao (the Way), and they come to harbor resentment, they may in turn harm me. This speaks to the principle of giving and returning. Here the word "wei" means assent: when others make a request and I agree, others may likewise agree when I make a request of them. "Issuing from here" refers to giving, and "responding outside" refers to receiving a return. To be cautious about "what one puts forth" means being careful about the deeds one carries out and not imposing improper conduct on others. This is exactly the meaning of "chu hu er zhe, fan hu er zhe": what you bring forth from yourself returns to you.

Yangzi's neighbor lost a sheep, so he gathered his own household and asked Yangzi's servants to help him chase it. Yangzi said, "Alas, you lost one sheep. Why send so many people after it?" The neighbor replied, "There are too many forking paths."

When they returned, Yangzi asked, "Did you find the sheep?" The neighbor said, "No, we lost it." Yangzi asked, "How could it get lost?" The neighbor said, "Each fork branches into further forks. We did not know which way it had gone, and we did not know which road to take back."

Yangzi listened with a sorrowful expression and his face changed. He remained silent for a long time and did not smile for the rest of the day. His disciples found this strange and asked, "A sheep is only a base animal, and it does not even belong to you, Master. Why does it change your face, keep you silent for so long, and stop you from smiling all day?" Yangzi did not answer, and his disciples could not understand what he meant.

After the disciple Mengsun Yang left, he told Xinduzi about the matter. A day later, Xinduzi and Mengsun Yang went together to see Yangzi and asked him, "Long ago, three brothers traveled to study in the regions of Qi and Lu. They all studied under the same teacher and learned the Way of benevolence and righteousness before returning home. Their father asked them, 'What exactly is the Way of benevolence and righteousness?' The eldest said, 'Benevolence and righteousness allowed me first to preserve my own person and then to achieve a good reputation.' The second said, 'Benevolence and righteousness made me give up my life to complete my reputation.' The youngest said, 'Benevolence and righteousness allowed me both to preserve my life and to achieve a good reputation.' The three approaches contradict one another, yet all came from Confucianism. Which is right and which is wrong?"

Yangzi said, "There was a man who lived by a river. He knew the nature of water well and was skilled at swimming, and he supported his whole family by ferrying people across. One day, crowds of people came to him carrying dry provisions to learn to swim, and before they had finished learning, nearly half of them had drowned. They had come to learn swimming, not to learn how to drown, yet this was the result that followed. In your view, who here is right and who is wrong?"

Xinduzi withdrew silently. Mengsun Yang reproached him, saying, "Why is your question so tangled, and why is the Master's answer so one-sided? Instead, I am even more confused."

Xinduzi said, "When the great Dao (the Way) has too many forking paths, people lose their sheep. When the methods of learning are too many, people lose their original nature. The principles that are learned do not differ at their root, and they did not disagree at the beginning. Why do they end in such divergence? Only by returning to the common root and reuniting in oneness can one avoid being pulled along by gain and loss. You have followed the Master for a long time and studied his teachings, yet you have not understood the purpose of the Master's analogy. This is truly regrettable."

Xindu Zi's question resembles the line of thought Zigong followed when he asked about Boyi and Shuqi. "Qi" refers to a forked road. Forks within forks are a metaphor for a teaching that branches into many strands, each different from the others. Yang Zhu looked troubled and neither spoke nor smiled, because something in him had been stirred. Ru (Confucian) learning was originally one family, yet it divided into three teachings, just as a road keeps splitting into more branches. "Cheng tu" means a group of people gathered as followers. Learning to swim and then drowning because of it is a metaphor for how, once a teaching is passed down to later generations, it often drifts from its original purpose and loses its true meaning. Xindu Zi walked out quietly, having grasped the meaning Yang Zhu had left unspoken.

"Dadao" means the broad, great road. A road that was once single becomes one where people lose their way once it forks into many paths, and learning that shares one source can harm one's life when its methods are divided too far. This describes teachings that share the same root but whose later branches differ. To return to the common root, to revert to the single Dao, is to lose nothing and gain nothing. "Kuang" here means sentiment or feeling. If one does not understand the Master's feeling, how could one learn the Master's Dao? This chapter unfolds its questions and answers through layered metaphors, and the question-and-answer style of the Chan (zen) school has a similar form.

Yang Zhu's younger brother was named Bu. He went out wearing white clothes, and when it began to rain he took off his white garments and returned home in black ones. His family's dog did not recognize him and barked at him as he approached. Yang Bu was angry and wanted to beat the dog. Yang Zhu said, "Do not strike it. You too might encounter this: if your dog had been white when it went out and came back black, would you not find it strange?"

The general sense of this chapter is that if a person does not understand that all things share the same underlying principle, they will easily be confused by external change. The dog, seeing a man in black clothes where he had seen one in white, barks naturally, and a person who sees a white dog turn black will likewise find it strange. People often look only at outward appearance and not at what lies within, and this is how it is for everyone.

"Xing shan bu yi wei ming" means doing good without treating it as a means of seeking fame.

Yang Zhu said, “Doing good without seeking fame will bring fame in its wake. Without intending to use fame for gain, one will find gain coming one’s way. Without wanting to contend for gain, contention will come seeking one out. Therefore, a gentleman must be careful in doing good.”

This expresses what the Zhuangzi means by “doing good without drawing near to fame”: once fame is acquired, gain often follows; when gain arrives, contention arises. Thus, those who do good should forget themselves and seek no fame. That is the proper way.

Long ago, someone claimed to know the method of immortality. The ruler of Yan sent an envoy to become his student. The envoy did not arrive in time, and the teacher died. The ruler of Yan was furious and wanted to execute the envoy. A favored courtier advised him, “Nothing troubles people more urgently than death, and nothing matters more to them than staying alive. That man could not even preserve his own life, so how could he keep Your Majesty from dying?” The ruler of Yan therefore spared the envoy.

A man from Qi also wanted to learn this method. When he heard that the teacher had died, he beat his chest and sighed, deeply lamenting the loss. Hearing this, Fuzi laughed and said, “He wanted to learn the art of immortality, yet the teacher has died and he still regrets it. Clearly, he does not understand how to learn.” Huzi said, “Fuzi is wrong. Some people know a method but cannot put it into practice; others can put it into practice without knowing the method. When someone studying the art of immortality regrets that the teacher has died, this does not show that he does not understand how to learn.”

A man in the state of Wei was skilled in arithmetic. Before he died, he passed his techniques on to his son. The son memorized his father’s words but could not use them. Later, someone asked about them, and he repeated his father’s words. That person followed the instructions and achieved the same results as the father. If that is so, why could the dead not teach a method for enabling people to live long?

In the phrase “did not arrive in time,” the word “swift” means quick: the envoy did not travel fast enough to meet the teacher. “Skilled in arithmetic” refers to someone adept at calculation. The passage means that learning a principle may not be difficult; what is difficult is putting it into practice. Knowing a method is not as good as actually carrying it out. The example of the art of immortality suggests that although the teacher had died, the method of longevity he taught might still have been effective; people simply had not managed to put it into practice.

Someone in Handan offered a dove to Zhao Jianzi on the first day of the first month. Zhao Jianzi believed that although the person who had written about the art of attaining long life and escaping death had already died, the method he described still existed; people simply could not put it into practice.

Zhao Jianzi was pleased and richly rewarded the person who had offered the dove. Someone asked why. Zhao Jianzi replied, “Releasing animals on the first day of the first month is a way of showing compassion.” The man answered, “When the people learn that you want to release animals, they will compete to catch birds to offer you, and many will die as a result. If you truly want to save them, it would be better to forbid people from catching them. Catching them first and then setting them free does less good than the harm it causes.” Zhao Jianzi said, “That makes sense.”

This parable speaks closely to human nature. Many people make this mistake today. For example, people release fish and softshell turtles into Gushan Lake. A single fish or turtle may be caught and sold several times in one day, then bought and released again.

The Tian family of Qi held an ancestral sacrifice in their courtyard and hosted more than a thousand retainers. During the meal, someone presented fish and geese. Tian looked at them and sighed, “Heaven is truly generous to the people: it grows the five grains and also brings forth fish and birds for people to enjoy.” The retainers all agreed. Bao’s son, who was twelve years old and seated among them, came forward and said, “I disagree. All things in the world live alongside human beings and belong to the same kind; none is nobler or more base than another. They check one another in turn through differences in size, intelligence, and strength, and take one another as food. They were not born for one another. People choose what they can eat and eat it, but does that mean Heaven originally brought these things into being for humanity? Mosquitoes bite human skin, and tigers and wolves eat human flesh. Did Heaven originally create people for mosquitoes, or flesh for tigers and wolves?”

The discussion here concerns the principle that all things consume one another, with larger creatures eating smaller ones. This view also makes sense: people eat chickens, and chickens in turn eat insects and ants. Things were not created specifically for one another, nor did Heaven create all things specifically for humanity. The examples of mosquitoes and tigers and wolves are equally apt. According to Lin Xiyi’s interpretation, the character “not” after “tigers and wolves eat flesh” in the text should be changed to “how could it be?”

There was a poor man in the state of Qi who often begged for food in the city. People there grew tired of his frequent visits, and gradually no one was willing to give him anything. So he went to the stable of the Tian family and did odd jobs for the horse doctor in exchange for food. Someone in the city mocked him: “Don’t you feel ashamed to work for a horse doctor just to get a meal?” The beggar replied, “There is nothing more shameful in the world than begging. If I’m not ashamed to beg, what is there to be ashamed of in working for a horse doctor?”

The point is that people live in different circumstances. They may each find themselves in an awkward position without realizing it. This is close in meaning to the story in the Zhuangzi that portrays a slave as a noble person. It also alludes to the story in the Mencius about a man from Qi begging for food near a cemetery, though it does not say so outright.

A man from the state of Song was walking along the road when he found a contract someone had lost—a document recording property or a transaction. He took it home and hid it, secretly counting the items recorded on it. He even told his neighbors, “I’ll be rich soon.”

The word “teeth” on the contract refers to the items or quantities of property recorded there. The man had found a contract that was valuable in name only, yet he imagined it would make him rich. The story is a metaphor for possessing an empty reputation without any substance. “Counting jars,” mentioned in one of Su Shi’s poems, means the same thing.

A man had a dead parasol tree in his yard. An elderly neighbor told him that a dead parasol tree was an ill omen, so the owner promptly cut it down. The old neighbor then asked for the wood to use as firewood. The owner became unhappy and said, “The old man next door only told me to cut the tree down because he wanted the firewood. My neighbor is so calculating. How can I trust him?”

At first, the old man may have warned him about the dead tree out of genuine concern. But when he later asked for the wood, his warning seemed to have served his own interest. The story shows how unpredictable human dealings can be, and how hard it is to distinguish public-mindedness from self-interest. The metaphor is deftly crafted. “So treacherous as this” should be read together as a single sentence, meaning “to be so treacherous”; the three words “how could it be?” form a separate sentence.

A man lost an iron tool and suspected that his neighbor’s child had stolen it. Watching the child walk, he thought he looked like a thief. The child’s expression and speech seemed suspicious too, and everything about his manner and demeanor looked like that of someone who had stolen the iron. Later, the man dug through a valley and found the missing tool. When he saw the neighbor’s child again, he thought the child’s manner and demeanor looked nothing like a thief’s.

This chapter says that once suspicion takes hold in the mind, everything before one’s eyes seems full of reasons for doubt. Even if someone has stolen nothing, the person who suspects them will find their every word and action suspicious. This is a metaphor drawn closely from everyday human experience.

Bai Sheng feared that a rebellion might break out. After leaving court, he stood there holding his staff upside down. The pointed iron tip at its end pierced his chin, and blood ran to the ground, but he did not notice. When people in Zheng heard about it, they said, “If he can forget an injury to his own chin, what could he not forget?” His mind was fixed on the rebellion. As he walked, he might stumble over roots or pits, or collide with large trees, without noticing at all.

It is also common in human experience for someone to be so absorbed in a matter that they do not notice an injury. A staff is a walking stick; to hold it upside down means to grip it the wrong way round. The pointed tip at the end of the staff pierced his chin, which is why he bled. Zhu means a tree, and kan means a pit. When the mind is absorbed elsewhere, one may collide with something and get hurt while walking without realizing it. This is close in meaning to the line in the Great Learning: “When the mind is absent, one looks but does not see, listens but does not hear.”

Long ago, a man from the state of Qi wanted gold. Early one morning, dressed and ready, he went to the market. He walked up to a gold seller, reached out, grabbed the gold, and ran. An officer seized him and asked, “There were so many people around you. How could you dare to take someone else’s gold?” He replied, “When I took the gold, I couldn’t see anyone. I saw only the gold.”

A man thought of nothing but stealing gold, so he could no longer see the people around him. Wearing a hat used for hunting wild beasts, he walked straight into the market, went to the place where gold was sold, seized some gold, and ran. An official caught him and asked, “Everyone was here. Why did you steal someone else’s gold?” He replied, “When I took the gold, I couldn’t see anyone. I could see only the gold.”

“Thinking of nothing but stealing gold makes one unable to see the people around him” is like being so intent on chasing a wild beast that one fails to see Mount Tai. The point is that when the mind becomes fixated, this is what happens.

The arguments in this chapter are all proper and accord with Confucian writings. The several metaphors near the end are also good, and the style differs from that of the other chapters. Broadly speaking, one can distinguish which passages in this book’s eight chapters truly come from Liezi. Some passages closely resemble the writing of “Robber Zhi” and “On the Sword,” and plainly were not written by Liezi. Although this chapter’s arguments are proper, its style in fact does not match Liezi’s. Those versed in the various schools of thought can naturally tell the difference.

End of volume eight of The True Scripture of the Exalted Virtue of Simplicity and Emptiness: A Commentary by Yanzhai.