《南华真经新传(王雱)》

To understand how nature (the Heavenly Dao) operates, and also to understand human actions, is to have reached the highest realm.

Heaven and humanity both originate from the Dao (the Way). Those who can fully embody the Dao will understand how the Heavenly Dao and human affairs each operate. The functioning of the Heavenly Dao is Wuwei (non-action), that is, without deliberate contrivance; human functioning is youwei, that is, taking action. Wuwei brings stillness, and stillness allows a return to original nature; youwei leads to movement, and movement gives rise to principles of righteousness and reason. One who can comprehend the ultimate of these principles and of Heaven’s mandate can become the ancestral master upon whom all things rely and whom they take as their model. Thus it is said that such understanding has already reached the highest realm.

Those who understand how the Heavenly Dao operates are born in accordance with their heavenly nature; those who understand how human actions operate use what they already know in order to nourish what they do not yet know. To live out the full span of one’s Heaven-given life without dying prematurely along the way is the expression of wisdom at its zenith. Even so, worries and troubles will still remain.

One who truly understands what Heaven does and what the human does knows by means of "not-knowing." Knowing Heaven through not-knowing, such a person can penetrate the subtle principle of Wuwei (non-action, 无为) and reach the furthest limit that life can attain. Knowing the human through not-knowing, such a person can exhaust the highest realm of purposeful action and become the most outstanding among all things. When life reaches its limit, it follows its own nature; when one is most outstanding among all things, one becomes of the same kind as Heaven. Yet what people of the world do is seek knowledge ceaselessly without knowing when to stop, which amounts to nothing more than giving free rein to cleverness. Giving free rein to cleverness means knowing to excess, and so this is called "the height of knowing." To pursue knowledge excessively through cleverness only harms life, and so the text says, "Even so, there is still trouble."

Knowledge must rely on something to be fitting, yet the thing it relies on is itself uncertain. How do we know that what I call Heaven is not the human, and that what I call the human is not Heaven?

Heaven is formed by the condensation of a single Qi (vital energy, 气), and the human too is formed by the gathering of a single Qi. Zhuangzi saw through to this with full clarity: within Heaven there is a human, and within the human there is a Heaven. Heaven and the human are fundamentally one body, without division.

Moreover, there must first be a True Person (Zhenren, 真人, one who has cultivated the Dao to the highest realm) before there can be true knowledge. What is a True Person? The True Persons of old did not shun those who were few or weak, did not use success to make a show of strength, and did not scheme over affairs. Such people felt no regret when they missed an opportunity and felt no self-satisfaction when they got things right. Such people did not tremble when climbing to great heights, were not soaked when entering water, and did not feel the heat when entering fire. This is what it looks like when wisdom ascends to union with the Dao (the Way, 道).

To merge into one with the transformations of the myriad things, remaining inwardly upright and not relying on external objects to establish oneself—such a person is the True Person (zhenren). Here “true” refers to a person’s original nature. Because their nature is like this, their knowing does not arise from human artifice; thus it is said that first there is the True Person and only afterward is there true knowledge. What is called true knowledge is simply not deliberately seeking to know.

What makes the True Person a True Person is according with things and awaiting the proper moment, abiding in softness and weakness without seeking to display oneself; not deliberately scheming, not forcing outcomes, so that those of like mind who share the same Dao naturally come to join them. Therefore it is said that the True Person does not reject the few, does not claim credit for achievements, and does not deliberately recruit talent. How could such a person insistently dwell on faults? Even if there is some fault, they do not let gain and loss lodge in the heart. When the heart does not cling to gain and loss, it is not stirred by external things; not being stirred by external things, one remains at peace with things without opposition and is not harmed by them. Thus it is said that such a person has faults yet feels no regret, and does what is right yet does not regard it as a personal accomplishment.

Such a person does not tremble when climbing high places, is not soaked when entering water, and does not feel the heat when walking into fire. This does not mean the True Person possesses extraordinary powers unlike ordinary people; rather, by means of true knowledge they have entered deeply into the Great Dao and attained this state.

The True Persons of antiquity did not dream when they slept, felt no sorrow when they awoke, did not crave flavors when they ate, and their breathing was deep and prolonged.

The True Person severs entanglements and forgets emotional attachments, and therefore has no chaotic dreams in sleep; they accord with nature and know their allotted fate, and therefore have no worries upon waking; they experience the bland and flavorless, and therefore do not pursue tastes in food; the inner mind returns from stillness to still deeper stillness, and therefore the breathing is deep and prolonged.

When the True Person breathes, the breath seems to issue from the heels; ordinary people breathe as if it reaches only the throat. Those who are repressed and yielding speak as if something is stuck in the throat; the deeper a person’s cravings and desires, the shallower their innate spiritual clarity and faculty.

The heels are the root of the body, and the throat is the passageway through which the breath of Qi (vital energy) enters and exits. The root cannot be violently shaken all at once, nor can the breath be obstructed for long. The Zhenren (True Person), one who has realized the Great Dao (the Way), breathes deeply, as if the breath reaches the heels, because they are able to return body and mind to the root and remain still. Ordinary people’s breathing stays near the throat, as if the breath were blocked. Returning to the root and remaining still allows the breath to become long and continuous; when the breath is obstructed, breathing cannot last. Long, continuous breathing comes from no longer being immersed in preferences and desires; the inability to last comes from being deeply trapped in preferences and desires.

The Zhenren of ancient times neither clung especially to life nor disliked death. When life arrived they did not rejoice on that account; when death came they did not resist it. They departed of themselves and arrived of themselves. They did not deliberately recall the beginning of life, nor did they seek after its end. In receiving life they accepted it gladly; in forgetting life they followed what was natural. This is called not harming the Dao with the human mind and not using human artifice to interfere with nature. Such a person is called a Zhenren.

Such a person has a mind that is unified and concentrated, a demeanor that is still and quiet, and a broad forehead. At times they reveal an autumnal coolness and clarity; at times they display a spring-like warmth. Their joy and anger follow the transformations of the four seasons, and they accord perfectly with the myriad things; no one can fathom the utmost limits of their changes.

In the original text there is a lacuna or textual corruption at the phrase “其心志；其容寂，其,” and therefore the interpretation here follows only the identifiable wording of “a unified and concentrated mind, a still and quiet demeanor, and a broad forehead.”

The True Person regards the six parts of the body—the head, the torso, and the four limbs—as a place of temporary lodging, and the ears and eyes as tools for knowing external things. He is content with the times and follows along with change, so that sorrow and joy cannot disturb his inner heart. Therefore it is said that he neither particularly clings to life nor detests death; wherever he goes he can accord with things, and in any situation he enters he remains peacefully at ease. Thus it is said that when he leaves he does not rejoice, and when he returns he does not resist.

He departs freely because his Shen (spirit) wanders beyond physical form and material objects; he returns freely because his original nature is not confined within physical form and material objects. He has comprehended the mystery of the Dao (the Way), yet does not forget the original beginning of life; he unites with the transformations of the myriad things, yet does not seek to foresee the end of those transformations. Even without inquiring into the ultimate destination, he can still be self-content without resentment, so it is said that he accepts change and gladly faces it. He forgets his private self and returns to authenticity, so it is said that he forgets the self and restores original nature.

Such a person acts with a free mind, yet what he obtains never departs from the Dao; he follows the natural transformations of the myriad things without deliberately adding to or diminishing original nature—this is called preserving authentic nature. Therefore the so-called True Person is one who does not harm the Dao through subjective intention, nor interfere with nature through human artifice.

The reason the True Person can be like this is that the inner “True Lord” (referring to the authentic spirit that governs body and mind) is peacefully without concern. His expression is still and unmoved by external things; his forehead is broad and unadorned, without artifice. He shows no angry countenance yet naturally possesses dignity; he does not deliberately practice benevolence yet naturally cares for the myriad things, and thus accords with the movement of the four seasons. In arranging and treating the myriad things there is nothing inappropriate—who then can know the ultimate extent of his transformations?

Therefore it is said that such a person’s will is calm, his demeanor still, his forehead broad; at times as austere as autumn, at times as warm as spring. His joy and anger follow the changes of the four seasons, corresponding to the myriad things in just the right measure, yet no one can clearly see the ultimate of his transformations.

Thus, when the sage employs military force, even if it causes a state to perish, he does not thereby lose the hearts of the people; his grace and benefits extend through ten thousand generations, yet he does not act in order to deliberately confer kindness upon others.

Simply going along with and catering to the myriad things does not make one a sage; showing partial affection and closeness to certain people does not constitute humaneness; acting solely according to heavenly timing does not make one worthy; failing to discern clearly the relations of benefit and harm does not make one a gentleman; pursuing reputation and thereby losing oneself does not make one a scholar; harming one's own person while violating original authenticity cannot be said to amount to directing others without being directed by them. Figures such as Hu Buxie, Wu Guang, Bo Yi, Shu Qi, Ji Zi, Xu Yu, Ji Ta, and Shentu Di all performed tasks for others and accommodated others' wishes, yet they did not follow their own innate nature or settle their own hearts and minds.

The so-called True Man is one who can achieve “losing the self” (setting aside the obstinate ego), allowing his own person to follow the Dao (the Way); he does not alter his inner nature, nor does he blindly follow the external world; he is able to make use of external things without being dominated by them, and he accords with his heavenly nature without being bound by it. People such as Hu Buxie and Shentu Di could not set aside the self and instead harmed their original authenticity; they could not follow the Dao but instead chased after the trends of the times. Consequently they were dominated by external things and could not truly employ them; they acted in accordance with their heavenly nature yet did not truly settle that nature, and thus could not find peace for themselves or establish their lives. This is what is meant by doing things for others and catering to others' wishes without according with one's own nature.

The manner of the ancient True Man was solemn without forming factions; he seemed to have some deficiency yet did not rely on external things to make it good; he associated harmoniously with others, yet his body was neither stiff nor constrained; his inner being was open, empty, and quiet, yet not ostentatious. His expression was bright, as though carrying a hint of joy; he also appeared still, as if everything were done only because it could not be otherwise. He advanced cautiously and with keen intensity.

The ancient Zhenren (True Person) handled affairs impartially yet formed no cliques for private gain; they appeared deficient yet attached themselves to no one. Their body and mind were yielding and pliant, showing no rigidity; their inner chest was empty and still, without ostentation or display. Their expression was bright, as if joyful; yet they also seemed quiet, as if many things were done only out of necessity. Their look was deep, as if carrying a sense of pain; they dealt with the world mildly, able to rest content in their own De (Virtue/Power). They appeared solemn, as if in accord with the mundane world; yet they remained alert and self-possessed, as if unswayed by external things. They seemed coherent and unhurried, as if unwilling to speak much; at times even silent, as though they had forgotten what they themselves had said.

The Zhenren took “punishment” as the foundation for establishing themselves, “ritual” as the aid for action, “knowledge” to accord with the times, and De as the criterion for conduct. Here “punishment” refers to heavenly punishment, that is, the Mandate of Heaven; taking the Mandate of Heaven as their foundation, the Zhenren could therefore be composed and lenient toward life, death, executions, and killings. Taking “ritual” as aid means that ritual is like a person’s treading, enabling one to walk in the world. Taking “knowledge” to accord with the times means not clinging to any fixed view, shifting with worldly circumstances when affairs arise, acting only as compelled by the situation. Taking De as the criterion means that, having attained something within, one can peacefully follow it day after day; it is as natural as a person with feet walking to a hill. Others, however, would regard this manner of acting as deliberate, diligent cultivation.

What is called “punishment” is heavenly punishment; heavenly punishment is the Mandate of Heaven. The myriad things each have their own destiny, and the principles of destiny are all complete within me; this is “taking punishment as the body.” What is called “ritual” is treading; treading in accord with the Dao (the Way) allows one to proceed with the current and arrive naturally; this is “taking ritual as wings.” What is called “knowledge” is clear perception; perceiving clearly without stagnation, one can change with the trends of the world; this is “taking knowledge as according with the time.” What is called De is inner self-attainment; from this one can perceive the criterion one follows in acting peacefully; this is “taking De as that which is followed.”

The births and deaths of the myriad things and of myself are merely temporary comings and goings; why should I be attached or stingy on their account? Therefore those who take heavenly punishment as the foundation for establishing themselves can be composed and lenient in the face of life, death, executions, and killings. The Dao has no terminus; I tread on without cease, and so it is said that ritual is like wings that let one travel through the world. Following the changes of worldly circumstances yet not intentionally clinging to any particular thing, thus taking knowledge to respond to the time means acting only because the situation compels it. With inner self-attainment one acts in peace; even when, like a person with feet, one reaches a hill, one does not feel it as a deliberate rush. Therefore taking De as the criterion means that the Zhenren, like a person with feet, naturally arrives at the hill. The Zhenren carries out these four things not as intentional, bitter self-cultivation, yet others regard it as diligent exertion.

Therefore, whether the True Person (Zhenren) likes a thing or dislikes it, the state of mind remains the same; whether regarding a thing as the same or regarding it as different, the state of mind is likewise the same. When the True Person affirms the aspect in which the ten thousand things are identical, they accord with the heavenly Dao (the Way); when they acknowledge that the ten thousand things have differences, they follow the ordinary circumstances of the human world.

The True Person has no preconceived opinions and does not cling to likes and dislikes, and thus is able to equalize the ten thousand things. They hold fast to the root while also accommodating differences, and so can communicate with all things. To equalize the ten thousand things without a deliberate mind is to follow along with nature, and thus it is said they are “companions of Heaven”; to hold fast to the root yet still communicate with all things, as if governed by external things, is why it is said they are “companions of humanity.”

The Dao of Heaven and human affairs do not prevail over one another; such a person is called a True Person. Life and death are arrangements of fate, like the alternation of day and night—they are the constant pattern of nature. There are things in which people cannot take part and cannot change; these are simply the inherent conditions of things. People regard Heaven as a father and still cherish their own bodies; how much more, then, that Dao which stands uniquely independent and transcends the ten thousand things? People consider a ruler to surpass themselves and are still willing to sacrifice themselves for the ruler; how much more, then, the genuine Dao?

When the spring dries up and the fish are stranded on land, they moisten one another with their breath and wet one another with saliva; yet rather than caring for one another in this way, it would be better to forget one another and live freely in the rivers and lakes. Rather than praising Yao and condemning Jie, it would be better to forget both praise and condemnation and live in accordance with the transformations of the great Dao.

Praise and blame are changes in worldly human sentiment. Although the sage responds to them, the inner mind remains complete and self-sufficient, unaffected. As for discarding worldly emotions and taking “forgetting everything” alone as the correct way—this is precisely what Zhuangzi opposed; yet the ignorant Confucians of the world criticize Zhuangzi on this very basis.

The great earth bears our physical form, makes us toil for our living, grants us ease in old age, and finally lets us rest in death. Therefore, to treat one’s own life well is also to treat one’s own death well.

The True Person does not regard old age as ease or death as rest; here, old age and death are spoken of only in the sense that the physical form is borne and life involves toil.

Volume Five of the New Commentary on the Nanhua Zhenjing (Nanhua Zhenjing Xinzhuan) ends here. The Siku edition and the Zhejiang Book Company edition read “夭,” so the text has been emended accordingly. The Siku edition has “适.” In the Wencheng Zhang edition cited in the Quewu, “喜乎” appears as “喜也.” In the same Wencheng Zhang edition, “已乎” is given as “已也”; moreover, the Siku and Zhejiang Book Company editions place the character “得” before “已,” which has therefore been supplied. The original text omitted the character “善,” which has been restored on the basis of Guo Qingfan’s edition.