《南华真经拾遗(王雱)》

This passage on “the sacrificial ox in the ancestral temple” indicates that the Zhuangzi employs allegories to convey its ideas. If one merely scrutinizes the literal wording without grasping the overall meaning, one will misinterpret Zhuang Zhou’s views. Zhuang Zhou maintained that those in high positions should practice Wuwei (non-action), allowing everyone under Heaven to fulfill their own capacities, while those in lower positions should take action and be of use to the world. He regarded himself as living amid a benighted ruler and disorderly ministers, with no opportunity to exercise his abilities. This, however, does not imply that none of his teachings can be applied to the relationships between ruler and subject or father and son, nor that he never encountered an enlightened sovereign in his lifetime and thus could never accomplish anything.

In declining the invitation from the envoy of Chu, Zhuang Zhou used the ox prepared for sacrifice in the ancestral temple as a metaphor. This was likely a pointed way of refusing invitations issued by the typical figures of a declining and chaotic age. Given Zhuang Zhou’s intelligence, how could he have failed to understand the principles of advancing or withdrawing, taking office or remaining in seclusion, and merely feared being used like a sacrificial victim? He was probably the sort of person Confucius described as one who lives in seclusion and speaks freely.

The passage on “the Spring and Autumn Annals ordering the world” explains that sages discuss and evaluate without contending with others, whereas the various philosophers excel at debate yet may not discuss and evaluate as sages do. Discourse (lun) consists in explaining principles; evaluation (yi) consists in commenting on human affairs; and debate or contention (bian) consists in distinguishing right from wrong in matters.

Concerning what lies beyond Heaven, Earth, and the four directions, the sage acknowledges its existence without discussing it; concerning what lies within Heaven, Earth, and the four directions, the sage discusses it without casually evaluating it. The Spring and Autumn Annals record the deeds of well-governed ages, evaluate history, yet do not contend over right and wrong. When the sage offers evaluations, it is out of necessity; how could this resemble ordinary people who single-mindedly contend in order to display themselves?

“Wangliang Questions the Shadow” is a section title: “wangliang” refers to the faint penumbra beside a shadow, and the title indicates that the penumbra questions the shadow.

In Zhuangzi’s writings the episode “Wangliang asks the Shadow” (罔两问影) appears twice. The shadow seems to arise only by depending on the body, yet in reality it is not simply determined by the body. Those who fail to grasp this assume that when a person stands, sits, bends, or looks upward the shadow merely follows the body’s movements; they have no idea that the shadow does not in fact depend on the body for its existence.

If one supposes that the shadow must rely on the body and that the body must in turn rely on the Creator (the power that brings all things into being), one has not yet understood the principle that the myriad things transform of themselves. Once this spontaneous, natural transformation is appreciated, it becomes clear that the shadow does not depend on the body nor the body on the Creator; ultimately everything returns to nothingness. Hence Zhuangzi remarks: “How would one know why it is so, or why it is not so?”

Dream of Becoming a Butterfly

From the standpoint of self-contented delight Zhuangzi recounts dreaming that he had turned into a butterfly; from the standpoint of untrammeled ease he speaks of the fish’s joy in swimming. The butterfly’s body is light and small, seeming to reach everywhere as it flutters; fish dwell in the secluded depths yet live in perfect freedom. Zhuangzi employs these two creatures both to convey a state of self-adaptation and happiness and to show that all things may be regarded as equal.

Zhiyan (Goblet Words)

“Zhiyan” (卮言) designates speech that is not bound to any single fixed formulation. Because the words continually change they arise in succession, and are therefore called “emerging with the sun.” These fluctuating utterances nevertheless possess a foundation, so it is said they “harmonize with the heavenly boundary” (和以天倪); “Tianni” (天倪) refers to the subtle root of nature itself. Once speech has this foundation it can follow transformation without exhaustion, hence the phrase “thereby rambling and extending.” Since words can respond infinitely to change, even though a human life has its limit the principles they express can continue to unfold, and so it is said “thereby exhausting the years.”

Although Zhuangzi’s discourse is expansive, unrestrained and endlessly variable, it never departs from the root of the Dao (the Way). Guo Xiang therefore observed that Zhuangzi “knows the root,” thereby capturing the deepest import of his thought.

The fundamental principle followed by all things is the Dao (the Way). The Dao is the basis upon which all things operate, and there is nowhere it does not exist. Therefore the Dao omits nothing in its vastness and lacks nothing in its subtlety. Thus, although all things possess different endowments and innate natures, they can all grasp the fundamental principle from it; this is the profundity of Zhuangzi’s thought.

Miscellaneous Remarks

The fundamental principle followed by all things is the Dao (the Way). The Dao is the basis upon which all things operate, and there is nowhere it does not exist. Therefore the Dao omits nothing in its vastness and lacks nothing in its subtlety. All things have their own endowments and innate natures, and each has aspects that it can comprehend and make use of. This is why, when Zhuang Zhou wrote his book, he spoke of such different things as the kunpeng, the cicada, the oriole, the little quail, the wren, ants and sheep, fish and butterflies, horses and oxen, and mountain trees.

The root of the Dao precedes Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate, the primordial state before heaven, earth, and all things took form), yet one cannot therefore say it is lofty and exalted; its roots extend to the farthest reaches of heaven, earth, and the four directions, yet one cannot therefore say it is unfathomably deep. Before heaven and earth were formed the Dao already existed, but one cannot therefore say it is older than heaven and earth. The Dao has existed from ancient times; it predates high antiquity, yet one cannot therefore say it is long-lived.

That all things differ is called “abundance”; that one can unify different things is called “greatness”; abundance together with vastness constitutes the “great enterprise.” The one who can achieve this is the sage.

Only when things have form do they have names; only with names are there distinctions; only with distinctions are there the respective duties and boundaries that each should observe. Zhuangzi said: “Once form and name have been made clear, one then discusses the respective duties and boundaries.”

What Zhuangzi meant by not snapping the famous sword Moye, not resenting tiles blown by the wind, and not becoming angry when an empty boat collides with oneself, all convey a similar idea.

Heaven and earth possess a vast beauty yet do not speak of it; the four seasons operate according to clear regularities yet do not discuss them; all things have their own principles for completing themselves yet do not explain them in words. Therefore, when Confucius wished to remain silent, he said: “What does Heaven say? The four seasons proceed as usual, and all things grow as usual.” Who but one who personally accords with the Dao could experience this state?

Following one's nature means following what is natural, while cultivating virtue is a matter of human effort. The natural belongs to Heaven; the artificial belongs to humans. What lies within the natural is what one originally has, while what goes beyond the scope of human effort is what one originally lacks. How could a person take away what they already have and add to themselves what they never had? Therefore, what one originally possesses is one's nature, and what one originally lacks is precisely what Zhuangzi called superfluous. De (Virtue) is something people inherently possess, so to add anything further to the De they already have would be superfluous. Hence Zhuangzi said: "Joined toes and extra fingers, do they come from one's nature? They are superfluous to De. Growths of flesh and dangling warts, are they what the body originally needs? They are superfluous to one's nature."

The conduct of the noble person may be marked by hardship or by success, but the Dao (the Way) of the sage knows no dullness or sharpness; these are only differences that ordinary people perceive from the outside. Although the noble person's circumstances may be hard or prosperous, their inner heart is not changed by this. Therefore it is said: "Hardship too is a following of one's nature and does not make De superfluous; growths of flesh and dangling warts, though they appear on the body, are extras beyond one's nature." Zhuangzi also said: "They are happy in hardship and happy in success, because they regard hardship and success as the natural succession of seasons, like cold and heat, wind and rain."

Zhuangzi said: "Do not let human artifice harm the mandate of Heaven." What is called the "human way" refers to human artifice, and what is called the "Way of Heaven" refers to the mandate of Heaven.

The Dao is like a year, and the sage is like one season within it. When Zhuang Zhou wrote the "Autumn Floods" chapter and spoke of the arrival of the seasons, he meant only that each has its own time. Narrow and shallow people seize upon this to criticize it, and it is no wonder that Zhuangzi said indignantly: a summer insect cannot be told about ice, and a frog in a well cannot be told about the sea.

Zhuangzi said that Yan Hui had already forgotten benevolence and righteousness but had not yet forgotten ritual and music. That he forgot benevolence and righteousness first and ritual and music afterward might seem to suggest that benevolence and righteousness are inferior to ritual and music. In fact, Zhuangzi spoke first of forgetting what is internal and then of forgetting what is external: benevolence and righteousness are internal, while ritual and music are external. Only when both inner and outer are forgotten is "sitting in forgetfulness" (zuowang, the state in quiet sitting of forgetting self and external things) attained. This is precisely why these statements appear different.

The sage acts by "necessity of non-necessity," while ordinary people act by "non-necessity of necessity." What does this mean? A great person need not make every word win trust, nor insist that every undertaking reach its intended result; this is what the sage means by "treating necessity as non-necessity." Ordinary people, by contrast, take what is not certain to be certain. The later phrase "words must" continues to explain this same point.

The sage regards matters that originally need not necessarily be so as not necessarily so, while ordinary people take what may not be so and treat it as inevitable. Why is this said? A person of De (Virtue/Power) and insight does not necessarily keep faith in every word spoken, nor must every action reach a predetermined result; such a person understands which matters need not be forced. To insist that speech must always be trustworthy and that actions must always produce results is to treat what is not necessarily certain as if it were inevitable.

Zhuangzi’s remarks in some places come close to those of the sages and worthies, and therefore his words cannot be entirely dismissed.

The sage does not cling to his own assertions, yet there is always an assertion in his mind; he does not rigidly hold to the self, yet the self is always present. He acts only when affairs press upon him, and rises only when he has no choice but to do so. This is neither deliberate doing nor an effort to realize the self; it is simply according with the matter at hand.

Zhuangzi said, “The one who rides the myriad things is not dominated by external things.” This accords in meaning with Xunzi’s statement that “one who thoroughly understands the Dao (the Way) is able to ride the myriad things.”

Stillness is the root; movement is the branch. When one settles into stillness and maintains an ordinary relationship with external things, and when acting can accord with the transformations of those things, this is the sage. When still, one cuts oneself off from external things, yet when acting stubbornly entangles oneself with them—this is the ordinary person. The sage can ride and master the myriad things; the ordinary person is led along by them. To understand this is enough.

Confucius said, “The gentleman attains the Dao (the Way) through learning.” Zhuang Zhou, however, said, “The Dao cannot be attained by seeking.” Confucius also said, “This virtue of the Mean is perhaps the highest.” Zhuang Zhou said, “De (Virtue/Power) cannot be attained by seeking either.” Why is this so? Confucius was speaking of a person’s own self-cultivation; Zhuang Zhou was speaking of the Heavenly Dao. From the perspective of the Heavenly Dao, how can the Dao that is so of itself be reached by human pursuit? How can De, which is originally self-attained, be obtained only through seeking? From the perspective of human cultivation, if one deeply studies the principles, can one not attain them? If not, how can one obtain the Dao? If one’s virtuous conduct is not renewed day by day, how can one obtain De?

Only those who have truly striven in pursuit can understand that some things are not gained by seeking; only those who have made the effort to reach a goal can understand that some states cannot be attained by forcing. The Zhuangzi explores the profound principles of nature and life, connecting the Dao and De that appear scattered in various places, in order to dispel darkness and turn people toward clarity. Therefore, expressions such as “returning to the root and restoring life-nature” (going back to the foundation and recovering the original nature of life) and “smashing the pecks and breaking the balances” (destroying measuring vessels and scales, symbolizing the discarding of worldly calculations) all arise from this.

Yet if the Dao has already been grasped in the heart and understood in the mind, then even if one inquires of the Dao one may not receive a response; why then must one rely on words? Not speaking can indeed preserve the subtlety of the Dao; but if one never speaks at all, one cannot make the Dao clear. Therefore one opens one’s mouth only when it cannot be helped: one acts only when stirred, and responds only when compelled. Zhuangzi thus left his words in the book so that learners, having grasped the meaning, would forget the words and images, and having grasped the words and images, would forget the language. This, too, is where Zhuangzi’s thought differs from ordinary views.

Zhuangzi said that a wild pheasant lives in a cage because it has lost its innate nature. The ancient Perfected Persons were able to forget cunning calculations, still their anxieties about the external world, attune their minds to the vast emptiness, use the Dao (the Way) to connect Yin-Yang, regard Heaven and Earth as one and the same morning, and view the long passage of years as a single storehouse. They did not treat anyone as an outsider, and thus the myriad things neither drew close to them nor distanced themselves from them. They transcended the bounds of worldly conventions, yet were not constrained like the pheasant in its cage.

Zhuangzi said that the ancient Genuine Persons met with events without regret, and even when their actions failed to achieve what they wished, they did not feel remorse on that account. This shows that even sages are not free from error. To err yet not regard it as something worthy of regret is to accord with nature; if one views mistakes in the manner of ordinary people, one will correct them and not hesitate to change, and people will therefore revere such a person. Warmth in winter and cold in summer are errors of Heaven and Earth. If even Heaven and Earth can err, how much more so the sages? Extreme fear is called “ju,” while lesser fear is called “zhui.” Zhuangzi said: “Great fear is boundless and indistinct; small fear is anxious and trembling.” This means that great fear leaves one dazed and at a loss, while small fear makes one uneasy and apprehensive.

Zhuangzi’s writings enable one to comprehend a person’s original allotment of nature and life, so that the mind is not stirred by life and death, fortune or misfortune. This state approaches that of the sage; unless one is a person of wisdom, it is indeed hard to attain. Reading the words of the sages is also sufficient to reach such a state; if one fails to do so yet becomes absorbed in Zhuang Zhou’s teachings, the resulting disorder is very great.

When the clear and still Qi (vital energy) of the night can be preserved, it means that all thoughts and deliberations have been stilled. If the mind and spirit cannot settle and maintain this condition, one has not yet attained “morning illumination” (chaoche—the state in which the inner mind is as bright and transparent as the dawn); to be able to achieve morning illumination is to return to the root of De (Virtue/Power).

The marvelous realm of Shen (spirit) stands above the realm of the sage and can inspire the myriad things; this is “Shen.” That which shares in the cares of the myriad things is “the sage.” If Shen lacks the practice of the sage, it cannot function; if the sage cannot put it into practice, then De cannot be preserved intact. Zhuang Zhou’s remarks exalt the marvelous Shen while slighting the sage; this is going too far in an attempt to correct a one-sidedness.

Zhuangzi said: “Oneself is one’s own root, and oneself is also one’s own origin.” Here “ben” is “the One” (the fundamental origin from which the ten thousand things arise); in the graphic form of the character it sits beneath “mu” (wood). “Gen” is formed by adding “gen” beside “mu.” “Ben” arises from “gen,” and “gen” in turn depends upon “ben”; only through their mutual reliance can growth occur. Thus “ben” refers to the root of life, while “gen” refers to innate nature. Laozi said “returning to the root is called stillness,” which means returning to innate nature; he also said “stillness is called returning to life,” which means quieting down and returning to the original source of life.

In Zhuangzi’s writings there is mention of the True Person and the Utmost Person. The True Person is spoken of in terms of innate nature, referring to one who preserves authentic innate nature; the Utmost Person refers to one who has reached the utmost in the cultivation of the human way.

Ming is the manifestation of Shen (spirit), while Shen is the inner store of ming. That is to say, ming comes from Shen, and therefore mere outer observational clarity cannot surpass inner spirit.

Laozi said “the Heavenly Gate opens and closes”; Zhuangzi said “the Heavenly Gate has no being.” The ten thousand things issue forth from the Heavenly Gate, so it is said to “open and close”; they also return and are stored there, so it is said to “have no being.” The Heavenly Gate refers to the origin of the going out, coming in, and transformations of the ten thousand things.

Zhuangzi spoke of “ziming,” referring to the inexhaustible containing yet further inexhaustibility. The ten thousand things grow and transform in teeming profusion, all within it, and thus its boundaries cannot be seen. The ten thousand things between Heaven and Earth are complete, yet Heaven and Earth do not intentionally arrange the ten thousand things, so it is said that the ten thousand things are already complete. Nothing is more vast and complete than Heaven and Earth, so why seek outside? The ten thousand things are likewise complete within my own person, and I need not go forth to employ the ten thousand things. Therefore one who understands that oneself is already complete has nothing to seek. In this way one can obtain one’s own Dao (the Way) and will not stray from the Great Dao; how then would one abandon oneself to chase after external things? Thus it is said: one does not lose oneself, nor discard oneself, nor take external things to replace oneself.

Zhuangzi said: “Having name and having actuality is where things appear and settle.” This means that things, when in the body, manifest as the body, and when in function, manifest as function; the ten thousand things are thereby completed. “Without name and without actuality” is the empty and formless aspect of things, that is, the realm that cannot be heard or seen but must be experienced in emptiness and stillness. If one always wishes to describe the Great Dao with language and mental intention, one will instead recede farther from it; by setting aside speech and thought, the Dao becomes easier to approach.

Zhuang Zhou's writings record the profound mysteries of the Great Dao (the Way). Their discourses aim to rescue people's nature and life so that they are not harmed before their original nature has been lost, and thereby to awaken the ordinary people of the world. Is this not taking the Dao as the fundamental root?

The Dao is like the ocean, and the sages are like the hundred rivers that flow into it; the Dao is like a year, and the sages are like the four seasons within the year. The hundred rivers differ from one another, yet all ultimately merge into the ocean; the four seasons differ from one another, yet all belong to the year. Although the teachings of Confucius, Mencius, Laozi, and Zhuangzi vary according to the times, in the final analysis, could they possibly depart from this fundamental root?

When reading the Zhuangzi, one should grasp the meaning within it rather than clinging to the wording; only then can one be said to be skilled at reading it.