《化书》

The Book of Transformations (Huashu)

Scroll One: The Transformation of the Dao (the Way)

Composed by the Perfected Person of the Purple Empyrean (Zixiao Zhenren), Tan Jingsheng (Zixiao Zhenren is Tan Jingsheng’s Daoist title)

Stele Inscription of the Palace of the Purple Pole (Zijigong)

The manner in which the Dao proceeds is that emptiness and nothingness transform and give rise to Shen (spirit), Shen transforms and gives rise to Qi (vital energy), and Qi transforms and gives rise to form. Once form has taken shape, the myriad things are thereby obstructed. The manner in which the Dao acts is, by contrast, that form transforms into Qi, Qi transforms into Shen, and Shen transforms into emptiness and nothingness. Once emptiness and nothingness have become clear and luminous, the myriad things are thereby able to pass freely through.

Thus the ancient sages inquired into the source of free passage and obstruction, and grasped the origin of the creative transformation of the myriad things. They forgot form in order to nourish Qi, forgot Qi in order to nourish Shen, and forgot Shen in order to nourish emptiness and nothingness. When emptiness and substantiality interpenetrate, this is called “Great Unity” (Datong).

Hence, when the Dao is stored away, it is “Primal Jing” (Yuanjing, the original essence); when it is brought into play, it is the myriad numinous beings; when it is held latent and unrevealed, it is “Taiyi” (the primordial state of the Dao); when it unfolds, it is “Taiqing” (the clear, luminous, and vast realm of the Dao). Thereupon Kan and Li (symbolizing water and fire, Yin-Yang) wax and wane within the human body, and changes like wind and cloud appear through the seven orifices. When true Qi rises like cloud vapor, the four seasons no longer divide into cold and heat; when pure Yang Qi pours in without cease, people no longer divide into life and death. This is the Dao that proceeds by wondrous spiritual transformation.

Snake and Sparrow

The snake transforms into a turtle, and the sparrow into a clam. All at once the snake abandons its bent and winding appearance and becomes a form that crouches and crawls; all at once the sparrow loses its appearance of flying and calling and becomes a shelled form. So swift is this change that carving with knife and axe cannot carry it any further, nor can ink-line, compass, and square fix its appearance in advance. Why is the transformation so rapid?

When a person faces a lumpy mass in empty space and sees ghosts and strange beings, that person does not see the void. Grind the mass to pieces in search of the void, and one sees only the void, no longer the mass. Form does not originally hinder people; people bring the hindrance upon themselves. Things are not originally stuck fast; people themselves fall into obstruction. How lamentable.

The Old Maple

An old maple tree can transform into a feathered immortal, and rotten wheat can transform into butterflies. This is the change from things without life into things with life. A gentle and virtuous woman can transform into steadfast stone (stone that remains firm and unchanging), and earthworms in the mountains can transform into lilies. This is the change from things with life into things without life. Therefore earth and wood, metal and stone all possess affective nature, together with Jing (essence) and soul. The Qi (vital energy) of the void reaches everywhere; Shen (spirit) penetrates all; Qi is the same everywhere; and there is no form that cannot transform into another. Which is the other, and which is I? Which has awareness, and which has none? The myriad things are originally one thing, and the myriad Shen are originally one Shen. This is the utmost of the Dao (the Way).

Ears and Eyes

What the eyes cannot see can be seen with the aid of a bright mirror; what the ears cannot hear can be heard with the aid of empty Qi (formless Qi). Jing and Shen reside in me, yet seeing and hearing depend on external things. A damaged toe can be cut away, and a sunken lip can be repaired. From this one can see that ears and eyes can be set in place at will, and outward appearance can also be falsified; falsity piled upon falsity only deepens the delusion. One can therefore know that hun and po (the ethereal and corporeal souls) beguile me, that empty Qi makes me hear sounds, that blood and Qi intoxicate me, that the ten apertures of the body (the openings of the ears, eyes, nose, mouth, and the like) imprison me, and that the five roots (the sense faculties of the eyes, ears, nose, tongue, and body) press me into service. Once Shen takes on form, form gives rise to defects; if there were no such defects, what could not be done?

Circular Dance

When the circular dance is performed, the palace halls seem to revolve; when one looks down upon whirling water, the head and eyes seem to turn with it. It is not that the halls produce an illusion, but that the person himself is deluded; nor is it that the flowing water has truly changed its appearance, but that the person himself feels the change. Thus a powdered cloth looks like a rabbit, and a medicinal stone looks like a horse, yet people do not doubt them; sweet words and honeyed speech, a charming smile, and painted faces and eyebrows likewise often keep people from seeing the truth. Only a person of clarity and stillness cannot be deceived by external things.

In the art of refining the elixir, some people use fire to smelt lead and make an elixir, relying on it in place of grain to stave off hunger, and this seems possible as well. Yet in a year of abundant harvest, people feel that taking the elixir can fill the stomach; in a year of poor harvest, they still go hungry. This is not an effect produced by the elixir itself; it is, in all likelihood, the working of the mind. Thus one who was not hungry comes to feel hungry, and though the elixir cannot of itself bring fullness, one feels that one is full. In hunger one falls into confusion, and in satiety one gives rise to illusion—all because one has not brought the mind into accord with the Dao (the Way). Therefore, if a person can regard being and non-being, death and life, feeling and innate nature, the inner and the outer as one, that person can transcend the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water)—the five basic elements that constitute the myriad things—and the Three Luminaries (the sun, the moon, and the stars). Why, then, worry about eating many meals in a single day, or about eating only once in a hundred days?

Form and Image

Take one mirror to reflect a person’s bodily form, then use other mirrors to reflect the image in that mirror. Mirror after mirror reflects the rest, and the images are passed on layer by layer. The person’s cap, sword, and other features of appearance are not changed by this, nor are the traces of advancing years and an aging countenance erased. Between form and image there is no distinction, and between image and form there is no difference. From this one may know that form is not truly real and unchanging, and that the image is not mere nothingness. Clinging neither to the substantial nor to the empty, one can accord with the Dao.

Sheltered Concealment

Some things are skilled at concealing and nourishing themselves: some can withstand severe cold, some can escape hunger, and some can even live on without dying. Their state of mind is deep and still, without perceptual discrimination; their Shen (spirit) rests at ease and moves freely, without chasing external things; their Qi (vital energy) is mild and fluent, without deliberate action. No kind of thought can disturb them, and even if they wished to die they could not. Therefore, one who has attained understanding comes to know the self by observing the myriad things, comes to understand the spirit by knowing the self, and then comes to realize the true Dao by understanding the spirit. This is the ford and bridge to an auspicious realm (the way that carries one across to the further shore).

Owl and Parrot

The owl finds the day dim and the night bright, while the chicken finds the day bright and the night dim; such is the difference between them. If someone takes the owl to be unlike the rest, that person thereby takes the chicken to be like the rest; if someone takes the chicken to be unlike the rest, that person thereby takes the owl to be like the rest. Is it the owl and the chicken that make day and night differ, or day and night that make the owl and the chicken differ? Are day and night the same as the owl and the chicken, or are the owl and the chicken the same as day and night?

The sound of the stone chime heard in the ear is something I myself hear; the image of the flower seen by the eye is something I myself see. The day and night I experience are not the same as the day and night others experience. Thus daytime cannot in every case be called bright, nor can nighttime in every case be called dim. One who can regard dimness and brightness as equal is perhaps a great person (a person of true understanding).

The Four Mirrors

Ordinary people commonly have four mirrors: one called the gui, one called the pearl, one called the whetstone, and one called the basin. Looked at through the gui, things appear large; looked at through the pearl, things appear small; looked at through the whetstone, things appear upright; looked at through the basin, things appear upside down. Observe these objects and then look at your own form and features, and you will understand that large and small, long and short, beautiful and ugly, good and bad are none of them fixed and unchanging.

From this one can know that bodily form and Qi (vital energy) will beguile me, that Jing (essence) and Shen (spirit), together with the hun and po souls, will harm me, that treacherous ministers will elevate me, and that rites and music will exalt me. Therefore one must not let the heart-mind be sovereign, nor let the heart-mind be master. One should be as vigilant toward it as toward fire, and as wary of it as of a tiger; keep to simplicity and frugality so that external things do not intrude, and keep to clarity and stillness so as not to be imposed upon. Only then can one’s conduct and breadth of mind grow more expansive, and one attain the Three and Five (the realm of the ancient sage-kings).

Shooting the Tiger

An archer who is convinced that what stands before him is like a tiger sees only the tiger and does not see the stone; one who slays a ferocious flood-dragon sees only the flood-dragon and does not see the ruler.

The person who strikes a great boulder as if shooting a tiger sees only the tiger and does not see the stone. The person who slays a flood dragon as if cutting down a fierce jiao sees only the dragon and does not see the water. From this we may know that all things can be regarded as empty, and the self can likewise be regarded as nothing. When the “nothingness” of the self joins with the “emptiness” of external things, one can naturally vanish and appear, die and live again, bound by no restraint at all.

Fine dust in the air drifts like flying snow, yet the eyes have never seen it. Ants contending in a cave are like oxen in combat, yet the ears have never heard them. How much more is this true of things that from the outset lie beyond what the eyes and ears can perceive?

Dragon and Tiger

When the dragon transforms into the tiger, one can tread through empty space. Empty space is not utter nothingness, nor are metal and stone truly solid. Emptiness and being interpenetrate; external things and the self are the same as one another. The arising of life has no absolute beginning, and transformation has no absolute end. One who understands this principle will not have the bodily form truly destroyed, nor will the spirit pass away.

Drifting Clouds

Flowing clouds have no fixed form, and therefore they can display the five colors. A bright mirror is without flaw, and therefore it can reflect the myriad things. People say that the sky is mirrored in the water; this must also be because the water is mirrored in the sky. A hundred paces away, the mirror can make out a person, yet the person cannot see the image within the mirror—and this may serve as proof. From this we know that in the boundless void nothing is lacking, and among the myriad things nothing goes unseen.

People of the world know only to look up at the lofty, distant sky, yet they do not know that they themselves also dwell within emptiness. The lofty sky is not beyond seeking, nor are the divine spirits far away. Therefore the gentleman should always keep the inner heart upright and the outward bearing dignified. In this way one may wander freely through the vast void and associate with the spirits without fault.

Throat and Pharynx

When someone hears talk of “stinking rot,” they cannot help but feel nauseated; when they hear the names of rare delicacies, they cannot help but swallow. In truth, what is rotten and foul is only an illusory sensation, and fine flavors are not necessarily so precious—yet people still cannot stop themselves from retching or swallowing. Some find fermented bean paste as dreadful as an ant’s navel, while others treasure abalone as dearly as the fat of the phoenix. One who understands this, on hearing the names of delicacies, will also see that they are merely thoughts that stir craving. Once one understands that such feelings are not the necessary worth of the things themselves, one can regard extravagance and frugality as equal, not take honor and disgrace to heart, not cling to right and wrong, and forget fortune and misfortune as well.

The Great Transformation

The void transforms and gives birth to Shen (spirit); Shen transforms and gives birth to Qi (vital energy); Qi transforms and gives birth to bodily form; bodily form transforms and gives birth to Jing (essence) and Qi; Jing and Qi transform into glances and facial expressions; glances and facial expressions in turn transform into the courtesies of bowing and yielding; bowing and yielding transform into the movements of advancing and retiring in high and low station; advancing and retiring transform into ranks of noble and base; noble and base transform into all manner of distinctions; distinctions transform into caps, crowns, and garments; caps and crowns transform into carriages, horses, and utensils; carriages, horses, and utensils transform into palaces and halls; palaces and halls transform into attendants and guards; attendants and guards transform into feasting and pleasure; feasting and pleasure transform into extravagance and indulgence; extravagance and indulgence transform into the amassing of wealth; the amassing of wealth transforms into deceit and concealment; deceit and concealment transform into punishment and killing; punishment and killing transform into rebellion and turmoil; rebellion and turmoil transform into war; war transforms into contention; and contention at last transforms into ruin.

Once this transformation arises, its momentum is hard to resist; once it recedes, it is likewise hard to root out by force. Therefore those in high position guide the people with the Dao (the Way) and De (Virtue/Power), govern them with benevolence and righteousness, and restrain them with penal law and ritual institutions, so as to preserve the state and safeguard wealth and rank. Yet if the Dao and De cannot be put into practice, if benevolence and righteousness cannot be carried through, and if penal law and ritual institutions cannot fully take effect, the people will learn cunning, turn toward deviance, and grow rebellious, and in the end be driven to become thieves. Those above are benighted and cannot see the malady; the people are bewildered and do not know where the root of the illness lies—how, then, can the situation be saved?

Everyone knows that the root and stem of amaranth can split open an ao, a kind of large turtle, yet they do not know that vermilion grass can also split open a human being. From this one may know that Shen (spirit) can disperse, Qi (vital energy) can drift and float, and the bodily form can dissolve and scatter. Once scattered, it transforms into the myriad things, and this is not to be counted as little; gathered into one, it is not to be counted as much. It is like a violent wind rising, when the hun and po souls seem to fly and wander as in a dream, or like the cleats of a shoe treading an earthworm in two, while its head and tail both go on moving. Why is this so? Because Taixu, the vast and empty primordial origin, together with Taishen, Taiqi, and Taixing, was each originally a single whole. Once names are given them, different designations arise; yet if one traces them back to their source, they all return to one. Seek to hold it, and it cannot be held; seek to cast it aside, and it will not be lost. This is called Zhengyi (Orthodox Unity).

Heaven and Earth

Heaven and Earth draw the impulse of life from Taixu and so come into being; human beings and insects draw the impulse of life from Heaven and Earth and so come into being; the lahong and the yingding in turn draw the impulse of life from the human body. The lahong is a worm of the intestines. They consume my Jing (essence) and Qi, injure my hun and po, and seize the flavors I take in so as to sustain their own lives. Seeing that they lodge as parasites within me and will in the end bring about my death, one may know that Heaven too will in the end decline. If Heaven declines, where then can I find a place to rest? If I die, to what can the lahong still attach itself? It is just as when a treacherous minister usurps the power of the state: the state falls, and the household suffers with it; or when borers eat into the wood of a melon plant, the wood is hollowed out and the melons wither and die.

Therefore the wise person gathers in Jing and Qi, preserves and stores the hun and po, lessens the pleasures of food and drink, restrains tastes and desires, and does not set wealth and rank upon the heart. In this way, even if Heaven and Earth grow old, he will not be overthrown; even if the parasites die, he can still enjoy long life; and when treacherous ministers are removed, the state will be at peace.

The Child

A young child delights in his own shadow, yet does not know that he himself has been captivated by the shadow; an arrogant person scorns his own portrait, yet does not know that the portrait also reflects his appearance. One who governs a household does not know that he too is shaped by the prevailing ways of the household; one who governs a state does not know that he too is shaped by the prevailing ways of the state; one who governs the world does not know that he too is shaped by the prevailing ways of the world.

The Three August Ones possessed the Dao (the Way), yet did not know that their Dao would later develop into the De (Virtue/Power) of the Five Emperors. The Five Emperors possessed De, yet did not know that their De would later develop into the humaneness and righteousness of the Three Kings. The Three Kings spoke of humaneness and righteousness, yet did not know that this humaneness and righteousness would later turn into the wars of the Qin and Han. The drunkard carries his drunkenness on his back; the one afflicted with scabies busies himself treating the scabies. In the end the intoxication grows ever more confused and the illness ever more severe, yet neither knows to turn back.

Yangsui

The yangsui was a bronze mirror used in antiquity to obtain fire.

The yangsui (a bronze mirror the ancients used to obtain fire) can draw fire, and the fangzhu (a vessel the ancients used to obtain water) can draw water. From this one can see that the principle of sympathetic response is not hard to understand.

One who looks upward appears overbearing; one who looks downward appears sinister; one who looks askance appears cunning; one who looks straight ahead appears kind and generous. One who stares with wide eyes readily shows resentment; one who squints and peers closely appears fawning. One whose gaze reaches far has wisdom; one who looks only at what is at hand appears clumsy. One whose gaze turns outward is benighted; one who contemplates inwardly is lucid. Thus, what bears the “self” is the body, and what puts the “self” to use is Shen (spirit). When Shen accords with the true Dao (the Way), one may endure for a long time.

Life and Death

Emptiness transforms and gives rise to Shen; Shen transforms and gives rise to Qi (vital energy); Qi transforms and gives rise to blood; blood transforms and gives rise to the bodily form. The form transforms and gives rise to the infant; the infant grows into a child; the child grows into a youth; the youth grows into the prime of life; the prime of life turns to old age; and old age ends in death. After death, one is transformed again into emptiness; from emptiness Shen is born once more; from Shen, Qi is born once more; and Qi is transformed once more into the myriad things. Transformation of this kind goes on without break, endless as a ring.

The myriad things do not themselves wish to be born, yet they cannot but be born; nor do they themselves wish to die, yet they cannot but die. One who fully grasps this principle can nourish the myriad things with emptiness and stillness, so that Shen no longer transforms and the bodily form is generated no more.

Nails and Hair

The nails and the hair are parts of the body. Why, then, does cutting the nails not injure the body, and why does cutting the hair bring no pain? It is because the Rong and Wei (the Qi and blood that move through the body, nourishing and protecting it) do not reach there. From this one may know that the true “self” has not in fact been harmed; what is harmed are the sinews and bones. The true “self” has not in fact felt pain; what feels pain is the flesh and blood.

Thus joy and anger are not produced by the true “self,” nor is delight set in motion by the true “self.” It is only that one is obscured by the bodily form and remains attached to it. Understand this, and one can pass beyond the bounds of life and death.

Shen and the Dao

The Most High (Taishang—the origin of the Dao (the Way) and the supreme realm) is the spirit of emptiness and non-being. Heaven and Earth are formed of the spirits of Yin-Yang, while human beings and insects are formed of the spirits of flesh and blood. What they share is that all are Shen (spirit); the difference lies in bodily form. Thus the body is not numinous, yet Qi (vital energy) is numinous; speech is not numinous, yet sound is numinous; waking is not numinous, yet dreaming is numinous; life is not numinous, yet death is numinous.

Water is by nature perfectly clear, but once it freezes into ice it is no longer clear. Shen is by nature perfectly luminous, but once it congeals into form it appears dim. Ice differs from water because of a difference in configuration. When the ice melts, clarity returns; when form disperses, luminosity likewise returns. One who understands true death may roam freely in the Capital of the Most High (the realm where Taishang dwells).

Shenjiao (Communion of Spirits)

The way of mutual response between female and male is like two turtles gazing at each other—this is the meeting of spiritual intent—and two cranes calling to each other—this is the meeting of breath. When affection and love connect, Shen and Qi are able to meet.

Therefore the sage promotes the great Dao so as to accord with Heaven and Earth, opens the mind so as to conform to ultimate truth, harmonizes the breath so as to bring forth the myriad things, and makes the heart-spirit gentle and compliant so as to receive the myriad people. When his heart is harmonious and joyful, the people are likewise content. They are so content that they do not know what they are thinking, and their forms are so hazy and indistinct that they do not know what they are doing. The multitude blends together as if it were a single current of Qi, and fuses into one as if it shared a single heart-spirit. Their voices grieve and rejoice as one; their actions advance and withdraw together.

When this state is reached, what further need is there for banners and flags, gongs and drums, rewards and punishments, or the organization of armies? In this way one can direct the affairs of all under Heaven, and can also command the armies of all under Heaven and destroy the enemies of all under Heaven. This is the Way of Shenjiao.

Emptiness transforms and gives birth to Shen (spirit); Shen transforms and gives birth to Qi (vital energy); and Qi transforms and gives birth to physical form. When form and Qi act upon each other, sound arises. The ear does not actively go out to hear; rather, sound naturally enters the ear. A valley does not actively answer a noise; rather, the echo naturally fills the valley. The ear is a small aperture, and the valley is a large aperture. Mountains, rivers, lakes, and marshes are lesser valleys, while heaven and earth are a still greater valley.

When one aperture gives forth a sound, myriad apertures can all hear it; when one valley hears a sound, myriad valleys can all hear it as well. Sound guides Qi, Qi guides Shen, and Shen leads toward emptiness. Emptiness contains Shen, Shen contains Qi, and Qi contains sound. They guide one another and contain one another. Even the faint buzzing of autumn mosquitoes and the humming of flies reaches everywhere; there is no place it fails to arrive.

From this we may know that even a thought as fine as a hair’s breadth will surely be perceived, and even words ever so slight and small will surely be heard. Only the designs and deeds of the great person cannot be seen by heaven and earth, cannot be known by Yin-Yang, and cannot be spied upon by ghosts and spirits. Why is this so? Because they are brought about by Dao (the Way), De (Virtue/Power), humaneness, and righteousness.

Cloud Dragon

The cloud-dragon and the wind-tiger are beings that know how to employ the way of Shen and Qi. Shen is like the mother, and Qi is like the son. To summon Qi by means of Shen is like a mother calling her son—who would dare not come? To perform a ritual that sweeps away impurity, one must summon the Qi of the Five Emperors; if they cannot be summoned, how can the impurity be cleared away? To subdue a venomous snake, one must command the Jing (essence) of the Five Stars; if they cannot be commanded, how can the venomous snake be overcome?

From this we may know that Yin-Yang can be set in motion, wind and clouds can be gathered, mountains and hills can be uprooted, and rivers and seas can be made to surge. Yet to use these powers in the outer world is not as good as first preserving them within. Once one is able to preserve them within and then apply them outwardly, there is nothing that cannot be accomplished.

When a fierce tiger charges, even the trees are bent low; when the poisonous zhen-bird rages, earth and stones are flung upward. Wherever imposing power works its transformation and the force of Qi (vital energy) strikes, hard objects are changed. From this the mountain recluse knows that an axe can be driven to fly, that mountains and rivers can be pushed and shifted, and that the myriad things can be led to follow.

When Shen (spirit) and Qi are complete and full, imposing power grows great; when Jing (essence) and Qi are abundant, strength becomes robust. Such a person is not overwhelmed by every kind of delusion, and can also master the myriad things. Thus one person can withstand ten thousand not by skill with bow, arrow, blade, or sword, but because imposing power has reached its utmost; one person can bring joy to ten thousand not by favors shown in words and smiles, but because harmonious Qi has reached its utmost.

Employing Shen

Insects have no feet, yet the snake advances by flexing its body; the leech can curl back upon itself, and the snail can draw in and hide. One who observes well discerns the subtle art in this and takes it as a teacher, so that even while sitting still one can arrive ten thousand li away without traveling in person.

Thus, one who walks on foot has places that cannot be reached; one who flies on wings has places that cannot be flown to; one who looks with the eyes has things that cannot be seen; and one who listens with the ears has sounds that cannot be heard. Why is this so? Because such people know only bodily form and do not know the intent of Shen; yet one who understands the intent of Shen also understands bodily form. To govern Shen by form alone brings decline; to employ form by means of Shen brings health and ease.

Water Cavities

A water cavity can be used to stop a person from drowning, and pestled bran can be used to treat a blockage in the throat. These things were first made by people and were later taken up and used by people. Principles originally have no fixed source, and techniques originally have no fixed form; they must be grasped in the mind and discerned in concrete things.

Soft Yin can restrain firm Yang (Yin-Yang); a woman can constrain a man; the yielding and weak can overcome the hard and strong; and the foolish can at times control the clever. One who understands this and applies it can silence bells and drums, set wheel hubs against one another, change the bearing of wife and children, and cause ruler and minister to separate or to harmonize. The myriad things are empty at root, and the myriad methods are unfixed at root; grasp the pivot of emptiness, and the essentials of arts and methods become clear.

Wangliang, legendary spirits of mountains and rivers, attach themselves to shamans and, through them, perform sacrifices and foretell fortune and misfortune. Whenever one takes possession, the shaman’s eating, drinking, and speech all seem the work of a divine being; once it departs, eating, drinking, and speech return to those of an ordinary person. People know neither that a wangliang has attached itself to the shaman, nor whether the shaman has in turn influenced the wangliang. From this we can see that mind and Shen (spirit) can resonate with one another, that Qi (vital energy) can be altered, that spiritual consciousness can be seized, and that the hun and po souls can be gathered in. The body is the dwelling of Shen; Shen is the master of the body. Viewed in this light, what is there that could not occur?

The power of ghosts and spirits can be harnessed, the transformations of dragons can be put to use, snakes and scorpions can be subdued so that they cannot harm people, and spears and dagger-axes can lose their power to wound and kill. Only a person without mind and without attachment can bring it about that fire cannot burn, water cannot drown, and weapons cannot injure—and can even die unbound by Heaven’s mandate. Why is this so? One whose heart is wholly given to joy forgets hunger; one whose heart is wholly given to sorrow forgets pain; and one whose will is fixed upon emptiness can forget life and death as well.

A piece of wood one inch square, set on the ground, still leaves room to spare when a person steps on it; a piece of wood one foot square, placed atop a bamboo pole, feels not wide enough when a person tries to crouch on it. This is not caused by any difference in the size of the wood, but by a difference of ease and tension in the person’s state of mind. Thus one who endures fierce summer heat while agitated feels even hotter, and one who is scorched while filled with fear feels even greater pain. The human state of mind is not constant and unchanging, nor are the natures of the myriad things absolutely fixed. From this we may know that water can leave a person feeling no dampness, and fire can leave a person feeling no dryness.

Spirits such as foxes, sparrows, and mice cannot beguile a bright mirror, because the mirror itself has no partiality. Precisely for this reason, the void has no partiality and yet knows all things; Heaven has no partiality, and the myriad things proceed of themselves; when a commander does not reveal his movements, the enemy dare not deceive him; and the great person who has attained the Dao (the Way) does not tax the mind with schemes, so that primordial Jing (essence)—the original Qi (vital energy)—gathers of itself. One who can take Wu (non-being) as teacher can reach anywhere.

Turning the Boat

What turns a great ship of ten thousand hu is a short piece of wood; what releases a powerful crossbow of a thousand jun is a trigger no larger than an inch. A single eye can survey the vastness of Heaven and Earth, and a single person can rule hundreds of millions of common people. The Great Void (Taixu) seems boundless, yet in truth it too has a limit; the Most High (Taishang) seems vast without end, yet it too has that to which it belongs. If one can grasp the guiding order of Heaven and Earth, understand the mechanism by which Yin-Yang unite, and see the hidden place where Jing and Shen (spirit) lie stored, one can alter fixed destiny, extend life, and even change the movement of Heaven and Earth.

Transformation of the Heart

One who is extremely yielding will transform into a woman; one who is extremely violent will transform into a fierce tiger. Wherever the mind’s intent turns, the bodily form changes with it, and this cannot be avoided. Thus, in joy the body is harmonious; in delight one’s bearing is light and quick; in anger the expression grows hard; in sorrow the face becomes mournful. This, too, is the principle of transformation. From this the lesser person comes to understand that, looking back upon this body of six chi, it may transform into dragon or serpent, and may also transform into metal and stone, or into grass and trees. These words are profound in meaning.

Pearls and Jade

Grief causes a person to weep, and pungency causes a runny nose; indignation causes Qi (vital energy) and blood to congeal and stagnate, and anger causes sores and swellings to form. Wherever the mind desires something, Qi gathers there; if Qi does not settle in one place, it cannot nourish anything. If deviant Qi works its mischief here, upright Qi turns and tends elsewhere. Therefore, those who possess De (Virtue/Power) restrain grief and pungent things and calm indignation and anger. They understand the gateway for taking in and gathering the breath, and so hold fast to the root; they also know where the primordial spirit—a person’s fundamental Shen (spirit)—is stored, and so can gather in the radiance of Shen. Keeping within the shell like a mussel, and concealing Qi within like a stone, they become the place where pearls and jade are brought forth.

The Wax Scorpion

Creatures of the scorpion kind can bring forth the larvae of the mingling, conveying feeling and intention, joining Jing (essence) and Qi, so that breaths blend and spirits accord. Great or small, living beings of every kind can come to completion by following their inborn nature. The activity of living things has no fixed disposition, and the forms of the myriad things have no unchanging shape. From this, people of shallow insight suppose that a horse may be made to fly, a fish made to run, and an image fashioned of earth and wood made to possess perception. That an infant grows to resemble its wet nurse is a principle not far removed.

The Hu Husband

When a man of the Hu lands unites with a woman of Yue, the child they bear will grow a beard, have a rugged face, and may also have deformed feet. When a man of the Man lands unites with a woman of the Qiang, the child will have a curved bridge of the nose and hold the head high. When a pear is grafted onto a peach, if the rootstock is strong, the fruit bears the character of the original tree; when a plum is grafted onto an apricot, if the rootstock is strong, the fruit is sweet. What is Yin can bring forth what is Yang (Yin-Yang); the yielding can bring forth the firm; the curved can bring forth the straight; the short and small can bring forth the long and great; the huge can bring forth the fine and small; the round can bring forth the square; water can bring forth fire; and vermilion can bring forth yellow. From this, people of shallow insight hold that the myriad things can change into metals and stones, pearls and jade, strange kinds, or monstrous creatures. This is precisely the principle by which creative transformation proceeds.

When Yin and Yang (Yin-Yang) interact with one another, even without depending on roots or wood, they can still give rise to lingzhi and other fungi. When dryness and moisture nourish one another, even without relying on a maternal body, they can still produce an ant’s navel. This shows that if people understand the principle of Yin-Yang and take it as their foundation, and if they study the patterns of change between dryness and moisture and take these as the source from which things arise, then there is nothing they cannot accomplish.

From this one may know that smelting and refining the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) is the principle of fire; ceaseless circulation is the principle of water; the cyclical turning of the Bagua (Eight Trigrams) is the principle of heaven and earth; and the emergence of wondrous things from these is the principle of transformation. Therefore the gentleman observes the myriad things in order to know himself, and then observes himself in order to realize the Dao (the Way). As for the Dao of the great person, it is profound and subtle, and people find it hard to judge what is right and what is wrong.

Sea Fish

There is a kind of sea fish that uses shrimp as its eyes. Everyone laughs at it, yet they do not know that the ancients once lit their way with fireflies kept in a cloth bag; nor do they know that by day, without the sun’s illumination, one cannot hurry about, and by night, without the light of a candle, one is easily left in the dark.

People see that a wooden puppet is false, yet they do not suspect that they themselves may also be misled by false appearances. They sigh over a friend’s departure from the world, yet they do not grieve that they themselves will in the end depart. The worthy and the foolish are hard to tell apart. Only one who preserves a pure nature and nurtures the profound Dao will not fall into these cunning devices and confusions.

Diaosong

The diaosong pine can endure severe frost because it harbors upright Qi (vital energy). Fine jade can withstand burning in fire because it contains pure Jing (essence). Therefore the great person, by day, employs spirit banners and, by night, records the divine lingzhi, able to perceive what ordinary people cannot perceive and to ponder what ordinary people cannot ponder. Such a person does not feel cold even when facing the wind in winter, and does not feel hot even when drawing near fire in summer.

Thus, if the gentleman stores and nurtures upright Qi, he can keep far from the harassment of ghosts and spirits and subdue the treacherous and the base. If he accumulates pure Jing, he can benefit living beings and preserve wealth. What matters is how much Jing and Qi one has stored.

Movement and Stillness

When movement and stillness rub against and act upon each other, they transform and give rise to fire; when dryness and moisture steam upward together, they transform and give rise to water; when water and fire surge against each other, they transform and give rise to cloud Qi (vital energy). It is said that pouring hot broth into a well can transform and produce hail, and that drinking water while facing the sun brings a rainbow into view. Petty people therefore suppose that Yin-Yang can be summoned, the Five Phases (wuxing) can be commanded, heaven and earth can be made anew by other means, and the sun and moon can be created by oneself. Anyone who hears such claims will surely regard them as absurd. In fact, the human body itself is the embodiment of heaven and earth constituted by other means: the head is round and the feet are square, the upper body is active while the lower body is settled, the Five Phases circulate within the body, and the radiance of the sun and moon appears upon its exterior. This is precisely the principle by which heaven and earth transform and generate the myriad things.

Sound and Qi

When one plays the qin and the se, the music is gentle and quiet; when one performs the tunes of the regions of Zheng and Wei, the music is lively and unrestrained; on hearing a sound of mournful wailing, sharp and desolate, a person feels a chill along the spine; when the drum sounds high and austere, the listener trembles and starts like a goose feather. Such is the way sound moves people.

When musical sound is harmonious, it can summon yang Qi, transform and give rise to warm spring breezes, and nourish the myriad things; when musical sound is discordant, it causes Qi to turn into violent winds that injure the myriad things. Qi is made manifest through sound, and sound is likewise produced by Qi: as soon as Qi moves, it gives forth sound; as soon as sound is uttered, it stirs Qi; when Qi is stirred, it forms wind, and the myriad things change along with it. Thus wind and clouds can be set in motion, frost and hail can be brought forth, the phoenix can be drawn near, the bear can dance to song, spirits and deities can descend in response to music and dance, and people can also form friendships through music. The workings of music are exceedingly vast.

Great Unity

The void encompasses the void, spirit encompasses spirit, Qi encompasses Qi, light encompasses light, and the myriad things encompass the myriad things. One who comprehends this principle can have feelings and intentions communicate with one another, and physical forms can also join together. Unite with fire, and one is transformed into fire; unite with water, and one is transformed into water; unite with the sun and moon, and one is transformed into the sun and moon; unite with metal and stone, and one is transformed into metal and stone. Only the “great person” (one who has attained a profound realm) can unite with every one of the myriad things and transform into anything whatsoever, and is therefore fit to keep pace with the Xuhuang (the supreme celestial deity revered in Daoism).

A mirror does not of itself seek to reflect the myriad things, yet the myriad things appear in it of their own accord; a high mountain does not of itself draw in Qi (vital energy), yet Qi fills it of its own accord. Each differs from the other, yet both can transform whatever they meet, enough to stand as equals of Xuhuang, the Void Sovereign (a revered Daoist deity, the supreme god who dwells in the realm of emptiness).

Imperial Preceptor

A mirror does not of itself seek to reflect the myriad things, yet the myriad things appear in it of their own accord; a high mountain does not of itself draw in Qi, yet Qi fills it of its own accord. Thus the nose perceives scent by means of emptiness, the ear hears sound by means of emptiness, the eye sees color by means of emptiness, and the tongue tastes flavor by means of emptiness. When the mind is like a deep, still, and obscure realm, it can contain the myriad things; when Shen (spirit) accords with nothingness, it can discern every affair with clarity.

Great persons therefore grasp the pivot on which things turn, and they keep hidden the subtle mystery within it. The feathered tallies they employ—Fulu (talismans and registers), or tokens of authority used in Daoist ritual arts—are exceedingly strange, and the yin fluid (the yin essence, or numinous liquid, spoken of in Daoist cultivation) is likewise profoundly marvelous. With these abilities one may guard the state and rescue the age, and one may also, with composure, serve as teacher to emperors.

Amber

Amber cannot summon the scraps of rotting grass; cinnabar (zhusha, vermilion) cannot enter metal that is burning; a lodestone cannot draw iron that is weak and spent; and primordial Qi cannot set a pottery kiln in motion. Great persons are therefore skilled at using the quintessences of the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), and skilled as well at gathering the numinous qualities of the myriad things. They enjoy the blessings and emoluments offered by Heaven and by human beings, and they ride the wind-horse—a variant reading gives “phoenix,” a supernatural steed—in glory. Their Dao (the Way) lies in forgetting the outer form and seeking the inner nature.

Here the second scroll of the Huashu (Book of Transformations) comes to an end.

Dehua (Transformations of De, Virtue/Power), Scroll Three

The quintessences of the Five Phases they are skilled at using; the numinous qualities of the myriad things they are skilled at gathering. They enjoy the blessings and emoluments offered by Heaven and by human beings, and they ride the wind-horse—a variant reading gives “phoenix”—in glory. Their Dao lies in forgetting the outer form and seeking the inner nature.

Here the second scroll of the Huashu comes to an end.

Dehua, Scroll Three

The Five Emperors

Confucian scholars explain the Dao (the Way) of the Five Constants—benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness—dividing it into five separate things, assigning them to the Five Phases (Wuxing: Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, and Earth), and further matching them with the five colors, the five sounds, the five sacred mountains, the five planets, the five metals, the five numinous creatures, the five flavors, and the five emotions. Those who hear them are as if a chick had been brewed in a jar and then sent to roam the void of space, or like a frog from the bottom of a well set floating upon the great sea: they can neither see the vast breadth and depth of heaven and earth at their first opening, nor measure that boundless distance. The day is already late and the road is still long, so people rush about in confusion and even go the wrong way.

Yet people do not realize that the Dao of the Five Constants is originally one. Only by forgetting its names can one grasp its principles; only by forgetting these principles can one enter into the true feeling within them. One then regulates and nourishes it through clarity and stillness, settling it in a realm of secluded depth and mysterious remoteness, letting Shen (spirit) and primordial Qi (Yuanqi, vital energy) blend together, and bringing the inner heart into accord with numinous nature. It is like water merging into water, so that one cannot tell which part is clearer, or fire merging into fire, so that there is no way to distinguish which part is brighter. This is called gathering the quintessence of the Five Phases and obtaining the essential Qi of the Five Constants. Gather it, and even something as fine as a mustard seed is enough to fill it out; let it disperse, and the myriad affairs each find their own free passage.

To apply it in handling affairs is like ladling sweet wine from a wine vessel; to respond to external things is like hanging a bright mirror to reflect forms. Thus it can transform into ten thousand appearances and nurture the myriad kinds of living beings, bring Yin-Yang (Yinyang) into communication, and in emptiness and stillness manifest the brightness of Shen. Relying on this Dao, one can plan the affairs of emperors and kings and, on behalf of heaven and earth, exercise the authority of weighing and regulating. Such a person is Confucius.

Moths

People throughout the world, whether wise or dull, all bustle without rest, like moths darting toward a lamp in the night, or flies striking a window at dawn. They know only how to go forward, not how to turn back; they know only how to advance and strive, not how to yield and withdraw; they know only how to avoid the harm before their eyes and chase the profit before their eyes, yet they do not know that gathering profit may also draw harm near.

To benefit others while bringing no benefit to oneself—what kind of wisdom is that? To understand external things broadly yet not understand oneself—what kind of wide learning is that? Therefore the truly great person regards profit and harm lightly, and wherever he goes he can remain at ease and properly settled.

A Different Heart

The tiger crouches in the forest and the snake moves through the marshes; they are not objects for the likes of partridges and kites. Yet crows and kites follow them with their cries, because they harbor intentions that set them apart. Thus, when the qilin bears sharp horns, the beasts will not submit; when the phoenix bears a sharp beak, the birds will not come over in allegiance; and when a ruler possesses extraordinary cunning, the people of the world will not submit as subjects. Those skilled at running will in the end stumble, and those skilled at contending will in the end be defeated. All of this is because they harbor intentions that set them apart.

Thus, when the qilin bears sharp horns, the beasts will not submit; when the phoenix bears a sharp beak, the birds will not come over in allegiance; and when a ruler possesses extraordinary cunning, the people of the world will not submit as subjects. Those skilled at running will in the end stumble, and those skilled at contending will in the end be defeated. What has a fixed allotment will in the end reach its limit, and one who possesses cunning schemes will in the end fall into difficulty. The artful are driven by the unartful, and the crafty are governed by those who are not crafty.

Bows and Arrows

The Son of Heaven fashions bows and arrows in order to overawe the world, yet the people of the world seize those bows and arrows and use them to humiliate the Son of Heaven. The gentleman institutes rites and music in order to restrain the petty person, yet the petty person appropriates rites and music in order to overstep the gentleman.

A ruler who possesses a state delights in amassing wealth and in storing grain, cloth and silk, and arms and armor, so as to resist bandits. Yet the bandits seize the arms and armor, take possession of the grain, cloth, and silk, and go on to seize the state. Some say that peace or peril depends on De (Virtue/Power); others say that flourishing or ruin is decided by fate. If De is sufficient to rely upon, why store grain, cloth, and silk in great quantity? If fate can be depended upon, why greatly increase arms and armor?

Cleverness

One who can do anything will surely be unable to accomplish one great matter; one who knows everything will surely fail to know one great matter. Only after forgetting the bow and arrow can one understand the principle of archery; only after forgetting the reins and the whip can one understand the principle of driving; only after forgetting the strings and the pao (the resonating body of ancient musical instruments) can one understand the principle of music; only after forgetting cunning and calculation can one understand the Dao (the Way) of the great person.

Therefore, if the ruler of the world understands Dao and De, he can cause Dao and De to become manifest among the people; if the ruler who governs a state understands humaneness and righteousness, he can cause humaneness and righteousness to become manifest among the people; but the ruler of a fallen state parades his own cleverness and ability before the people.

Possessing a State

A ruler who possesses a state performs sacrifices, offering to Heaven in the suburbs and to the ancestors in the ancestral temple, so as to express reverence for ghosts and spirits. Douyi divines with turtle shell and yarrow stalks in order to infer good and ill fortune. If the ruler who governs a state understands humaneness and righteousness, he can cause humaneness and righteousness to become manifest among the people; but the ruler of a fallen state parades his own cleverness and ability before the people.

When the state performs the suburban sacrifice and the rites of the ancestral temple, it does so in order to revere ghosts and spirits; when turtle shells and yarrow stalks are used for divination in Douyi, it is in order to know good and ill fortune beforehand. To revere ghosts and spirits is to believe that misfortune and blessing each have their presiding powers; to divine good and ill fortune is to believe that rise and decline have their own fixed allotment. Yet why are there people who refuse all belief in these things, exhausting the strength of the common people to build city walls and seizing the grain of the common people to store it away? They suppose that blessing can be seized by force, and that the decline and fall of a state’s destiny can likewise be withstood by force. This is at once to harbor doubt toward ghosts and spirits, to treat divination by turtle and yarrow as something that deceives people, and, still more, to place no trust in the common people of the realm. If one practices this Dao (the Way) of governing the state, rewards will not suffice to encourage people toward goodness, punishments will not suffice to make people fear, and the state cannot be held secure.

Yellow Sparrow

The yellow sparrow moves about in the courtyard every day. It often draws near to people, yet it is always afraid of them; and people are always startling it. The dark crow (a black crow) only occasionally flies to the doorway. It draws near to people without fearing them, and people do not startle it.

Yellow Sparrow

The yellow sparrow moves about in the courtyard every day. It often draws near to people, yet it is always afraid of them; and people are always startling it. The dark crow only occasionally flies to the doorway. It draws near to people without fearing them, and people do not startle it. The yellow sparrow moves in haste, while the dark crow is composed and at ease; the yellow sparrow’s call is thin and fragmentary, while the dark crow’s song is clear and bright; when the yellow sparrow looks at things it glances this way and that, while the dark crow’s gaze is open and broad; the yellow sparrow’s heart is anxious and fearful, while the dark crow’s mind is calm and unburdened. Therefore, one who suspects others will be suspected by others, and one who guards against others will be guarded against by others. What the gentleman practices is the Dao of humaneness, rightness, and centered uprightness—what is there to worry over, and what is there to fear?

Caged Ape

An ape in a cage, however it leaps and changes, cannot escape the cage; a tiger in a box, however it rages, cannot break out of the box. Even if a petty person is full of clever devices and his thoughts shift in ten thousand ways, he cannot go beyond the great Dao practiced by the great person (one of lofty virtue and a broad mind). The Dao of the great person is as vast as the earth that bears the myriad things and Heaven that covers the myriad things. By day or by night, people may resent him and deceive him, yet he does not grow angry because of resentment, nor is he overwhelmed because he has been deceived. When one can be like this, the myriad things will understand where, in the end, they ought to return.

Constant Dao

Benevolence and righteousness are principles that people ordinarily observe, yet if one does not know how to apply them, one may even bring the state to ruin on their account. Loyalty and good faith are standards commonly adopted, but if one does not know how to protect oneself, they will instead invite blame. Integrity is a quality people usually uphold, yet if one does not know how to maintain it fittingly, it will instead stir the people's resentment. Intelligence and eloquence are abilities commonly used in managing affairs, but if one does not know how to employ them, they will instead bring disaster. The trouble often lies in knowing only how to use these standards to make demands of others, while not knowing how to use them to cultivate oneself.

If the people are made to till the fields themselves, they may come to resent it; if one truly requires them to reduce what they eat and drink, they will grow angry. Fish are fond of bait, and ants are drawn toward things that smell rank and fishy; yet if bait is cast to the fish, the fish will instead take fright, and if rank things are set before the ants, the ants will instead go away. This is because one has not grasped the principle of teaching and guiding things.

Gratitude and Joy

To practice filial piety only out of gratitude for a father's loving kindness is not true filial piety; to serve with loyalty only out of delight in a ruler's favor is not true loyalty. Gratitude begins where there is nothing to be grateful for, and joy begins where there is nothing to rejoice in. When gratitude is excessive, resentment grows along with it; when joy is excessive, anger follows in its wake. That the heart feels gratitude and joy is because calamity lies hidden within external things, just as a spark lies hidden in withered grass and weeds—one must not fail to be on guard.

Therefore, in establishing himself and conducting his affairs, the gentleman does not take office and rank as what makes him noble, nor does he think himself above others because of courteous treatment. Those close to him need not deliberately display their closeness, and those distant from him will not grow suspicious on that account. Even if others wish to humiliate him, they have no way to succeed. Given this, what is there in the heart to feel grateful for or to rejoice over?

The Grand Physician

When the imperial physician (the medical official who oversaw healing in ancient times) reads the pulse, a pulse that is calm, even, and forceful is the bearing of a gentleman and a sign of vigorous vitality; a pulse that is disordered and shallow resembles a petty man and also foreshadows the decline of life. When the grand diviner (the official in charge of divination) performs a divination, if the yarrow stalks (the yarrow used in divination) lie straight and even and the movements are unhurried, this is the bearing of a gentleman and an auspicious omen; if the stalks are bent and the movements are hasty, this resembles a petty man and is an ill omen. Seen in this light, the principles of the world are all of a piece.

Therefore, observe a state and one can know its ministers; observe the ministers and one can know the ruler; observe the ruler and one can foresee the rise and decline of the state. A minister may choose a ruler and enter his service, and a ruler may likewise choose ministers and employ them. The rite of yielding (clasping the hands in salute and modestly giving way) can be put on, but clamor or stillness cannot; clothing and caps can be disguised, but bodily form and the objects one uses are hard to disguise; words can be embellished, but the voice cannot.

Slanderous Speech

Cunning concealed in another person is called “mechanism”; a stratagem that surpasses others is called “scheme.” It is a pity that people do not realize this: the essentials of morality are plain to everyone, yet the schemes of humaneness and righteousness are what the multitude lacks. Thus, if one teaches by reward and punishment, a marketplace spirit of chasing profit will prevail; if treatment is allotted according to closeness and distance, petty men will seize the opening and enter. Cast gold into the marketplace, and even a thief will not dare take it; deliberate affairs of state at court, and slander will not dare leave the mouth—this alone is the most impartial governance under heaven.

Depiction and Carving

A painter dare not alter an image at will; if he changes it on his own, he will certainly incur fault. A carver dare not slight the original image; if he slights it, he will certainly bring entanglement upon himself. A thing begins as something one has oneself made, and afterward one requires oneself to revere it, yet in the end it brings calamity upon oneself, so fault is inevitable. A carver dare not slight the original image; if he slights it, he will certainly bring entanglement upon himself. A thing begins as something one has oneself made, and afterward one requires oneself to revere it, yet in the end it brings calamity upon oneself, so fault is inevitable.

One who sets a mechanism will be put to use by that mechanism; one who lays a perilous situation will die within that peril; one who establishes achievements will be disgraced by those achievements; one who frames laws may also be ensnared by those laws. Open a single mechanism, and many mechanisms become bound up with one another; set a single affair in motion, and many affairs may suffer harm. Therefore, what is valued in ritual yielding is lucid understanding; what is valued in obstacles is level ease; what is valued in achievement is leaving no visible trace; what is valued in law is not clinging to a fixed form. Only one who can go beyond artificial depiction and contrivance may be called the Great Image (the vast and formless manifestation presented by the Dao (the Way)).

Wine and Sweet Liquor (alcoholic drinks and sweet wine)

Wine and sweet wine: the more one forces people to drink, the less they wish to drink; when one urges them gently and with tolerance, they are all the more willing. Thus, if you suppress others, others will in turn suppress you; if you treat others generously, others will treat you generously. Remit another’s sentence of death, and that person will instead be glad to die for you; remit the wealth another is obliged to surrender, and that person will instead be glad to hand it over. The people, therefore, will lay claim to the ruler’s grace, and the ruler will draw upon the strength of the people. Only one who understands this principle of mutual transformation is fit to undertake the charge of governing the people.

Favor and Reward

The rank of marquis is a title people prize; gold is wealth people treasure. If everyone were enfeoffed as a duke and all received the rank of marquis, no one would regard the title as precious; if everyone were allotted jade and all received gold, no one would find joy in it. Rewards, therefore, cannot be conferred at will, nor can favors be bestowed at random. A fitting reward may become the beginning of contention; an unfitting reward becomes the root of disorder and ruin. Thus, if I keep myself humble, rewards will not seem excessive; if I esteem frugality, favors will not seem extraordinary. Surveying the cases in history that led to disorder and ruin, one finds that they are very often bound up with arrogance, extravagance, and the indiscriminate granting of favor and reward.

Nurturing the People

The people do not resent a fire, yet they resent the one who forbids them to use fire; they do not resent thieves, yet they resent the one who orders them to guard against theft. Relieving the people, then, is not as good as not relieving them; loving the people is not as good as not deliberately bestowing love. Heaven sends down rain and dew, and thereby draws complaint; the spirits accept prayers and invocations, and thereby draw ridicule and slander. To forbid the people the use of fire is not as good as first calming the fire of anger in one’s own heart; to guard against another’s theft is not as good as first restraining one’s own greed. The nurturing of the people ought, in just this way, to begin from oneself.

End of Scroll Three of the Book of Transformations (Huashu)

Scroll Four: Transformation through Benevolence

Obtaining the One

Ziran (naturalness) and Wuwei (non-action) are called the Dao (the Way). The Dao’s capacity to maintain itself is called De (Virtue/Power). That De causes the myriad things to grow is called benevolence (ren). That benevolence can rescue those in peril and bring people to security is called righteousness (yi). That righteousness is manifested in taking and relinquishing, advancing and withdrawing, is called ritual propriety (li). That ritual propriety can adapt flexibly as affairs change is called wisdom (zhi). That wisdom takes sincerity as its standard is called trustworthiness (xin). To comprehend these principles thoroughly and put them to use is called sagehood.

The Dao is void and formless and cannot maintain itself of its own accord, and so De receives it and carries it forward. De is clear, still, and Wuwei, and cannot exercise its function of its own accord, and so benevolence receives it and carries it forward. When benevolence exercises its function, the myriad things are able to grow; once the myriad things grow, they encounter safety and peril, and therefore righteousness receives benevolence and carries it forward. To rescue and secure, and to remove peril, one must judge good and bad, gain and loss, and therefore ritual propriety receives righteousness and carries it forward. Ritual propriety acts according to rules and standards and inevitably meets with doubts, difficulties, and obstructions, and therefore wisdom receives ritual propriety and carries it forward. Once wisdom has become penetrating, it often requires adjustment and change in many directions, and therefore trustworthiness receives wisdom and carries it forward. Trustworthiness is the principle by which the myriad things are brought to completion.

The Five Phases

The Dao and De may be compared to Heaven and Earth, and the Five Constants (benevolence, righteousness, ritual propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness) may be compared to the Five Phases (Wood, Metal, Fire, Water, and Earth). Benevolence means generation and growth, and therefore corresponds to Wood; righteousness means the rescue of those in peril, and therefore corresponds to Metal; ritual propriety means clear discernment, and therefore corresponds to Fire; wisdom means flexible adaptation, and therefore corresponds to Water; trustworthiness means orderly regularity, and therefore corresponds to Earth.

When benevolence is insufficient, it is remedied by righteousness, just as Metal can fell Wood; when righteousness is insufficient, it is remedied by ritual propriety, just as Fire can smelt Metal; when ritual propriety is insufficient, it is remedied by wisdom, just as Water can restrain Fire; when wisdom is insufficient, it is remedied by trustworthiness, just as Earth can restrain Water. At the beginning, the Five Constants supplement one another; in the end, the Five Constants also restrain one another. This is the pattern by which the great transformation of Heaven and Earth proceeds.

What distinguishes birds and beasts from human beings? They have nests and dens in which to dwell, mates to accompany them, affection between father and son, and a deep attachment to life and death. That the crow feeds the aged crow in return is humaneness; that the elk cherishes the fetus in its womb is righteousness; that bees have a queen and a clearly ordered rank is ritual propriety; that the lamb kneels while taking milk is wisdom; that the pheasant does not mate repeatedly with the same partner is faithfulness. Inquire carefully into the innate nature of the myriad things, and one finds that humaneness, righteousness, ritual propriety, wisdom, faithfulness, and every kind of De (Virtue/Power) are present everywhere.

People, however, teach others to spread nets and seize birds and beasts, and to give themselves wholly to hunting and fishing. To burn their nests is to lack humaneness; to tear apart their kin is to lack righteousness; to treat such acts as the rites of feasting is contrary to ritual propriety; to teach people cruelty is to lack wisdom; to make the myriad things regard the human heart with fear and suspicion is to lack faithfulness. The desire to gorge on meat knows no limit, and so the killing of living beings never ceases. Though birds and beasts cannot speak, they will surely look upon us as greedy, ferocious jackals and wolves and as great swine; though fish, scaled creatures, and insects lack human knowledge, they will surely call us giant whales and great serpents. On what grounds can our hearts be at ease, and how can we not feel shame? Alas—can it truly be that from ancient times there has been no gentleman?

Sacrifice

To offer livestock in sacrifice, and to present lambs and crows, was the ritual of antiquity. Yet did the gentlemen of old not know that feelings of sorrow and joy, and the sounds of grief and delight, can move heaven and earth and communicate with ghosts and spirits? When knife and peach wood are set before their eyes, the animals’ look of anxiety and fear can be seen; when hawks and hounds come rushing in together, their mournful cries can be heard. If such animals are used to sacrifice to heaven and earth and to pray to the divinities, heaven and earth will certainly not partake of them; and even if they do partake, calamity is sure to follow. The divinities will certainly not eat or drink these offerings; and even if they drink of them, they will surely regret it.

Thus the so-called appearance of the divine dragon commonly signifies that the state is about to lose the support of wind and cloud; the coming of the phoenix signifies that exalted station and popular allegiance are about to be lost; and the appearance of the qilin signifies that the territory of the state is about to perish. Judged by the reasoning I hold, birds and beasts that suffer unjust treatment cannot be auspicious omens; nor, if they are offered in sacrifice as auspicious omens, will they bring good fortune.

Great Harmony

A rabbit is not cunning by nature; the hunter makes it wary. The people are not deceitful by nature; the oppression of officials teaches them to deceive. Therefore do not only blame thieves, for thieves are drawn in by us; nor only blame rebellion, for rebellion too bears the teaching we have given. If there were no harmony, how could enmity arise? If rewards did not encourage people to contend for the upper hand, how could strife arise? Thus the great person—one of virtue and insight—neither leans toward intimacy nor deliberately keeps a distance, and neither favors nor dislikes. This is called the Great Harmony (Taihe), a state at once vast and even.

Sea Fish

The sea fish spews black ink to conceal itself as it swims, and people follow that ink to catch it. The affairs of the world are the same: the clever often meet with setbacks, the eloquent are often disgraced, the discerning are often kept in the dark, and the brave often run into danger. The sturdier the armor, the more readily it attracts thieves; the harsher the prohibitions, the more they give enemy states an opening. A prohibition that others can break through is left with nothing but a name; military authority that others can seize depends on nothing more than the tally, the credential for mobilizing troops. Shu was undone by its mountains; Jin was undone by its warhorses. The key to how the great person conducts himself in the world comes down, in the end, to the Dao (the Way) and De (Virtue/Power), and to benevolence and righteousness.

The Spirit Bow

One who praises others is praised in return; one who slanders others is slandered in return. Thus, when the noble person is able first to reproach himself, he can bring others to recognize their fault; not to retaliate against resentment is, on the contrary, the true response to resentment. This is what is called the “spirit bow and ghostly arrow”: it is released without the bow being drawn, and it strikes without being aimed. Heaven lends this principle to human beings, and human beings rely on it to order the world.

Aiding Others

To rescue others while proclaiming one’s own righteousness leads people, on the contrary, to judge one unrighteous; to bestow kindness while demanding a return means that people will not repay it. The disposition of the people is this: the more you yield, the more you gain; the more you contend, the less you obtain; the more you draw near of your own accord, the more the other withdraws; the more you deliberately keep away, the nearer the other comes; give without calculating, and the other takes it as coming easily; cling to your goods, and they may instead be taken from you. Therefore great righteousness has no fixed outward form, and great kindness bears no conspicuous mark. When great righteousness is accomplished, even those who benefit without understanding it receive it; when great kindness is fulfilled, even those who are favored without knowing it have already been repaid.

The Dao of Writing

Let the mind not doubt the hand, and let the hand not doubt the brush. In writing, mind, hand, and brush ought to answer one another naturally; there is no need to cling to whether the strokes are light or heavy.

When the mind does not doubt the hand, and the hand does not doubt the brush, and this continues until one forgets that hand and brush exist at all, only then does one truly understand the principles of calligraphy. Harmony and fluency in the written traces are not merely a matter of superb technique; archaic simplicity and honest depth are not merely an outward look of clumsy plainness; gentleness and humble yielding are not the same as weakness; firmness and strength are not the same as a display of force. Shen (spirit) and intention seem to soak through the work, and Qi (vital energy) seems likewise to bathe within it.

Therefore, in setting the brush down and moving it, one should contain blood and Qi; in the glances that pass between the strokes, one should hold feeling and inborn nature. One should leave no trace of deliberately working brush and ink, show no air of clever calculation, and present neither a rigid posture of hardness and softness nor the look of unrestrained, headlong movement. A work ought to be harmonious, joyful, and generous, like the Dao (the Way) of the Yellow Emperor, and calm and solemn, like the bearing of a gentleman.

Thus, one who observes the great Dao has joy in the heart, peace of Shen and Qi, and harmony of breath. Under such governance, all under heaven is at peace, while the movement of the great Dao leaves no obvious trace. Why is this so? Seeing a mountain, one thinks of stillness; seeing water, one thinks of flow; seeing clouds, one thinks of change; seeing reputation, one thinks of holding to what is upright. This is ordinary human feeling.

Phoenix and Crow

The phoenix does not know its own beauty, and the partridge does not know its own ugliness. The house of Taotang (the legendary Emperor Yao) did not know its own sagely clarity, and the house of Youmiao (a legendary people, or their leader) did not know its own cruelty. If the house of Taotang had relied upon its own sagely clarity, that would not have been true sagely clarity; if the house of Youmiao could have thought of holding to what is upright, that too would have been ordinary human feeling.

Phoenix and Crow

The phoenix does not know its own beauty, and the partridge does not know its own ugliness. The house of Taotang did not know its own sagely clarity, and the house of Youmiao did not know its own cruelty. If the house of Taotang had relied upon its own sagely clarity, that would not have been true sagely clarity; if the house of Youmiao could have recognized its own cruelty, it would not have gone on being cruel.

Everyone can depict the likeness of others, yet cannot depict his own likeness; everyone can seek out the faults of others, yet cannot seek out his own faults; everyone can see the misfortunes of others, yet cannot see his own misfortunes. Therefore, a person of thorough understanding listens to my voice, observes my expression, examines my bearing, and takes in my Qi, and only then judges whether a person is genuine or false.

Knowing Others

By observing a person’s writings, one can know whether his station is high or low; by observing his calligraphy and seal carving, one can know his temperament; by listening to him play the qin and the se, one can know his De (Virtue/Power); by listening to his instructions and commands, one can know the good or ill fortune that he brings.

Seen in this light, the bearing of Tang Yao was simple, deep, and gentle; the bearing of Yu Shun was harmonious, joyful, and at ease; the bearing of Bo Yu was broad and open; the bearing of Yin Tang was dignified and upright; the bearing of King Wen was lofty and solemn; the bearing of King Wu was conspicuous and outwardly displayed; and the bearing of Zhongni (Confucius) was grave, with spiritual radiance in full abundance. From this, people throughout the world may also set these manifestations beside themselves and come to know whether they are foolish or worthy.

Mole Crickets and Ants

Ants, too, have their monarchs. If such a monarch has the bearing of King Wu of Zhou, it appears martial and ostentatious; if it has the bearing of Zhongni, that is, Confucius, it appears solemn and magnificent. Seen in this light, the people of the world may thereby come to recognize that they themselves are in fact divided into the foolish and the worthy.

Mole Crickets and Ants

Once ants have a monarch, there is a palace no larger than a fist, and the monarch lives in it together with the host of ants; there is a clod of earth that serves as a terrace, and the monarch ascends it together with the ants; there is a single grain of food, and the monarch stores it together with the ants; there is a single insect, and the monarch shares it in eating with the ants; and when guilt is judged and no doubt remains, the monarch is punished together with the ants. Thus, first their hearts and minds are in communion; next their Shen (spirit) is in communion; then their Qi (vital energy) is in communion; and at last their bodily forms are in communion as well. So when I fall ill, the ants seem to fall ill too; when I feel pain, the ants seem to feel pain too. From where, then, would resentment arise, and where would rebellion begin? Such was moral transformation in the age of highest antiquity.

Song and Dance

Those who can sing, sing; those who cannot, listen. Those who can dance, dance; those who cannot, watch. The talented and the untalented each voice their own views, and the worthy and the unworthy each attend to their own duties. Yet one who plants and tends trees will in the end cut them down, and a scholar treated with courtesy may in the end be put to use by others until a whole life is spent. Some use official caps and ceremonial robes as nets, and noble rank and salary as bait. It is like a horse fitted with carriage shafts and linchpins: though it is valued, it cannot necessarily decide for itself; instead it bears chaff and bran, while the rich and savory food is never its to enjoy.

Therefore, one who truly possesses the Dao (the Way) does not take empty reputation for honor, nor cling unconditionally to what has been gained. In poverty there is something to rely on, and in withdrawal there is likewise something to depend upon. Those who withdraw are not fond of cold and humble station; they are willing to be set aside and do not seek advancement and employment.

Zhizhu

Zhizhu wine, dried meat of wuhui, the ointment of changlang ruodang, and the milk of cold ge: at a first glance these seem like mustard seeds; looked at again, like grains of millet; then like small pellets; and at last like dried meat. From this, ordinary people come to understand that a powerful crossbow may be drawn by degrees, a great cauldron may be lifted by degrees, water and fire may both be grown accustomed to step by step, and tigers and rhinoceroses may likewise be tamed by degrees.

Those who oppose may be transformed by me; those who have suffered disgrace may be received by me; those who do not respond may be commanded by me; and those who do not submit may also be won by me. This is the result of keeping faith. A soft and weak horse cannot be driven, and a calamity that grows by degrees is hard to withstand. Obtain it by advancing in due sequence, and it may be taken as the root by which every kind of transformation is brought about.

To block people’s desires is, on the contrary, to throw the state into disorder; to press down people’s anger is, on the contrary, to make that anger deeper. One skilled at remedying what is lacking first lets people hear the relevant principles; one skilled at dissolving anger guides it by following the course the anger has already taken. The human mind, therefore, cannot be pacified by forceful suppression: the more it is pressed down, the more disordered it becomes. The common people cannot be governed by coercion: the more forcefully they are ruled, the more resentment they harbor. Water flows readily, and once it flows it clears of itself; the people change readily, and if one follows their natural course they return to peace. The principle of governance lies in not going against the innate nature of the myriad things.

Xiangfu (Emblematic Signs)

In the state of Wei there was a man who could subdue the poisons latent within all things. He crossed his arms and bent his fingers, taking these gestures as symbolic signs. Xiangfu are signs that represent things through images or movements, and they are commonly used to express and convey a certain power or meaning.

Thus, what resembles the delicate, shifting momentum of Heaven is marked by scales; what resembles the momentum of soaring flight is marked by feathers; what resembles the momentum of lying low is marked by fur; what resembles the momentum of curling inward is marked by a shell. From this it can be known that folding the hands and bending at the waist are likewise human signs. When one person folds the hands toward another, the other will surely fold the hands in return; when one person bows toward another, the other will also offer a salute. This is the root of ritual propriety.

If these principles are extended, they can correspond to the myriad images and distinguish the myriad postures. To teach people to step and dance is not necessarily to have them truly dance; to have people pray and offer invocations is not necessarily to have them truly pray and offer invocations. If I myself lack genuine sincerity, the other party will only respond in empty form. To blame others, in such a case, for lacking true feeling is itself because one also lacks true feeling; to blame ritual for having no effect is itself because the ritual has no real efficacy.

Those who do evil fear that others will see through them, yet in fact someone always does; those who do good hope that others will know of it, yet in fact there is always someone who does not. Thus, when no one detects an evil deed, it shows that the evil runs deep; only when no one knows of a good deed does that goodness count as supreme. Those who delight in bestowing favors often cannot make their kindness universal; those who pursue only what is strange and extraordinary often achieve little; those skilled at games of strategy find it hard for their wisdom to endure; and when literary style is excessively ornate, reputation does not last. Therefore the noble person prizes only the Dao (the Way) and holds only to De (Virtue/Power), and so can remain imperishable through ten thousand generations.

Scroll Five: The Transformation of Food

The Seven Seizures

If people go one day without eating, they grow exhausted; two days without eating, they fall ill; three days without eating, they die. Of the people’s most urgent needs, none matters more than food, yet all manner of affairs continually seize their time and livelihood: the king’s governmental business seizes one share, the affairs of the local gentry seize one share, officials and the army seize one share, warfare and punitive campaigns seize one share, craft labor seizes one share, the dealings of merchants seize one share, the indulgence and extravagance of Daoist and Buddhist activities seize one share, expenditure in years of plenty seizes one share, and excessive frugality seizes one share as well.

Thus, when the work of raising silkworms is already finished, people still lament that they have no kudzu cloth or ramie cloth for clothing; when the crops have already been harvested, what they eat is still acorns and fare as coarse as broken stone. If the king cannot impartially carry out punishment and governance, that is the greatest unfairness; persons of moral standing ought to remedy unrighteousness, and if they cannot, that is the greatest unrighteousness. Faced with such a situation, if one offers only petty kindnesses and clings to rigid formalities of ritual, with what is one to make it up to the people?

The Image of the Shaman

To practice as a shaman is precisely the greatest unfairness. The Dao of the great person ought to remedy unrighteousness; if one cannot, that is the greatest unrighteousness. Faced with such a situation, if one offers only petty kindnesses and clings to rigid formalities of ritual, with what is one to make it up to the people? The Image of the Shaman.

Those who practice sorcery will surely have ghosts and strange beings attach themselves to them; those who set up images of deities will surely have divine spirits preside within them. This is because ghosts and spirits delight in people offering them sacrifices and providing for their sustenance.

The rites and customs of the Rong and Jie (ancient names for the northern peoples) honor only the mother and do not honor the father. The inborn nature of birds and beasts is to cling to the mother and not to the father. When ordinary people meet with suffering, they too cry out for their mother rather than their father. All of this is presumably because the mother has nursed and reared them. Tigers and wolves crave nothing more than meat, and flood-dragons crave nothing more than blood, yet human beings covet everything. If they cannot obtain what they need, they contend; if it is withheld from them, they rebel. Thus resentment accumulates throughout the world and stirs the anger of men of ardent resolve. The matter of providing for people truly must not be treated lightly.

Raising Horses

The one who keeps the horse is its master, yet the one who herds it is the person the horse draws close to. The one who bears the child is the mother, yet the one who nurses it is the person the child draws close to. The relationship between ruler and minister ought not to be compared with a bond of this kind. Yet if one likens ruler and minister to the keeping of a horse and the herding of it, stipends become a source of resentment throughout the world and stir the anger of men of ardent resolve. The matter of providing for people truly must not be treated lightly.

Raising Horses

The one who keeps the horse is its master, yet the one who herds it is the person the horse draws close to. The one who rears the child is the mother, yet the one who gives it milk is the person the child draws close to. Ruler and minister ought not, strictly speaking, to be set on the same footing as this. But if one likens ruler and minister to the keeping of a horse and the herding of it, the point becomes clear: the ruler grants his ministers their stipends, and for that reason the ministers attach themselves to him. The mother is not necessarily the object of the child’s love; what truly causes the child to form an attachment is the person who nurses and rears him. A poor horse and an infant, originally without calculating minds, each begin from this point to grasp how things work and to form intentions of their own. Thereupon distinctions of love and aversion, of one’s own people and of others, arise, and contention and deceit gradually grow.

Silk and Cord

When the ruler takes the silk thread, the officials take the silk cord; when the ruler takes the silk cord, the officials take the silk gauze. (Si, lun, and bo are all names of silk textiles, and here they stand for extraction piled up layer upon layer.) If this taking does not cease, it advances to deception and concealment. If deception and concealment do not cease, they advance to flogging. If flogging does not cease, it advances to theft. If theft does not cease, it advances to killing. If killing does not cease, it advances to execution under penal law. The common people are not originally willing to deceive and conceal; those who strip them of their wealth force them to this point. The common people are not originally willing to take human life; those who apply the whip drive them, step by step, into becoming such.

What is more, when fire is about to reach the body and a person is thrust into the water, people know full well that death may still be inescapable, yet they feel that dying in this way is a little slower. When a tiger is about to devour someone and that person is pushed down into a ravine, one knows that survival is by no means certain, yet some still place their hope in a chance escape. Seen in this light, the situations are broadly the same, and it is truly a cause for sorrow.

Extravagance and Borrowing

A gentleman is unwilling to let others know that he goes hungry, because he regards it as a deep shame; nor is he willing to boast before others that he has eaten his fill, because he feels guilt in his heart. To make people feel shame and guilt will surely stir resentment and reproach; such is the harm that food and drink bring about. Adorning food and drink with golden vessels and jade covers is done for display; striking bells and sounding stone chimes to heighten the occasion is done for pleasure; spreading colored ribbons and embroideries is done to create a certain atmosphere; hunting birds and beasts to exhaustion in order to eat them is an act of violence; being fastidious about whether flavors are strong or mild gives rise to discontent; ranking food and drink as noble or base, and contending over what is refined or coarse, gives rise to rivalry. As desire grows ever more without limit, demands grow ever more without end: the poor feel that they have eaten ever less sufficiently, and the rich feel that their food is ever less delicious. Thus extravagance and the overstepping of proper station arise from this, and war likewise arises from this. If the food and drink of all can be brought into balance, the world can be well governed.

Gnawing Bones

One who gnaws the sacrificial meat upon a grave mound does not feel the pain even when his lips are worn raw and his tongue is ulcerated; one who drinks himself into drunkenness does not feel the bitterness even when his stomach churns and he vomits without cease. The glutton forgets pain; the hungry and hard-pressed often hold life cheap. When pain and suffering can both be forgotten, a person will commit any deceit; when life itself can be held cheap, a person will do anything at all. Therefore, one who governs should understand the desires of the people through his own desires, and understand the hunger of the people through his own hunger: if I grow angry, the people too will grow angry; if I harbor resentment, the people too will harbor resentment. Once this principle is understood, how could the people of the world ever rebel?

The Delusion of Food

Among the people, some die from stuffing themselves with food, some choke to death from greed for food, some die out of gratitude for food and in repayment of kindness, some die of humiliation and anger, and still others die fighting over food. There are those who will mock such people, yet they do not realize that the reason the authorities devote themselves to carrying out the system of official stipends is precisely that the people’s food, drink, and livelihood are matters of the greatest weight; if these problems are not resolved, how could the people fail to rebel?

The Delusion of Food

Some people are so greedy for food that they eat until they burst and die; some crave food so desperately that they starve to death; some die in conflicts over moral principle for the sake of a single mouthful of rice; some die of bitter resentment after being humiliated; and some lose their lives fighting over food. Others may laugh at such people, yet fail to realize that one takes office for the sake of a salary, and a salary is for buying food; one engages in trade to make money, and making money is likewise for the sake of eating. Yet some, through arrogant rivalry and slanderous talk, break the law and lose their lives, while others drown amid the waves of rivers and seas in the course of trade. They do not understand the starting point of what they pursue, nor the cause of their deaths, and in the end they lay the blame upon the rivers and seas. This is to be blinded by the desire for food and drink.

Desire as War

The desire for food is the same: when one thinks of the taste of sour and sweet seasonings, saliva wells up and cannot be stopped; when one sees a platter full of dishes, it is as if one would swallow them all, and one cannot hold back. When hungry, one wants to devour an entire ox; when thirsty, one wants to drink the sea dry. Desire is to a person like a thief, and a person facing desire is as if caught in a war. When the fighting is urgent, embroidered silks, pearls, and jade no longer count as wealth, and official caps and banners no longer count as honor; the sounds of bells, stone chimes, the qin, and the se are no longer heard as pleasing music, and palaces and towers no longer appear splendid. How much more so when the common people often cannot eat their fill and their circumstances are always constrained—if one then speaks to them of benevolence and righteousness, can they believe it? If one only proclaims punishments and laws, can that make them stand in fear?

The Glue-Coated Pole

Take up a glue-coated bamboo pole to catch yellow sparrows, and the sparrows follow the person and clamor; present an offering tray to crows, and will the crows therefore repay the kindness? Can this be believed? If one speaks only of punishments and laws, can that make them fear?

The Glue-Coated Pole

Take up a glue-coated bamboo pole to catch yellow sparrows, and the sparrows follow the person and clamor; present an offering tray to crows, and will the crows therefore bring word to people? From this one may know that, faced with the most violent of persons, there is nothing that cannot be done; and faced with those who are extremely gluttonous, there is likewise nothing to set them apart from one another. Thus even snakes may become companions and gather together, tigers and rhinoceroses may be drawn close and tamed, and the foreign peoples of the four quarters may be brought under command and come to submit. If even beings of another kind are like this, how much more so among human beings?

Geng and Xin

The Geng family dug a pit beside the pond and built a frame and railing of bamboo. When someone stepped on it, it gave off a “cece” sound. The Xin family likewise dug a pit beside the pond and built a frame and railing of wood. When someone stepped on it, it gave off a “tangtang” sound. Both families raised fish in the pond. Whenever they stepped onto the railing and cast in bait, the fish would leap. Later, the fish had only to hear “cece” or “tangtang,” and even with no bait they would leap out of the water. The fish of the Geng family could therefore be called “cece,” and the fish of the Xin family “tangtang.” All of this was a change brought about by feeding.

Rise and Fall

Sores cause a person pain, and an urgency as pressing as fire at the eyebrows also leaves one scorched with anxiety. The common people often liken hunger to breaking out in sores and liken starvation to fire burning the body, because the suffering of hunger is felt in one’s own person and is hard to bear.

Abalone differs little from the grime on one’s feet, and the pancreas of the silver carp is scarcely different from foot-grime; yet people often eat their fill of such things and still feel it is not enough. From this one may know that once a person is hungry, there is nothing he may not eat, and once driven to extremity, there is nothing he may not do. This is precisely the pivot of a society’s flourishing or perishing: the hunger and hardship of the people bear upon rise and fall.

Sparrows and Rats

People detest sparrows and rats because they steal; sparrows and rats, for their part, suspect and fear people because they take people to harbor a thief’s heart. Those above treat those below unfairly for the sake of food, and those below deceive those above for the sake of food; thus those above cannot but detest those below, and those below cannot but suspect those above. Both sides have reasons that touch them personally.

If someone cuts off his own flesh to eat it, he will surely weep; if someone seizes him by the throat and snatches the food from his mouth, he will surely grow angry. The people grow poorer day by day because others exploit them as if carving away their flesh; the people go hungry because others seize their food. Alas, how truly lamentable.

Wuwei (non-action)

Oxen can be used to draw carts, horses to carry loads, dogs to keep watch, and hawks to strike and seize prey, because food brings them under human command. A macaque can be taught to dance, a parrot to speak, a partridge trained to fight to the death, and mole crickets and ants driven to join forces in battle, because food does the work of instruction. A fish will swallow the hook, a tiger will walk into a trap, a horse will charge into a net, and an enemy state will come of its own accord to offer aid, because food can confer advantage. Heaven and Earth can thereby blend in harmony, the divine spirits (Shen) can thereby protect and guard, persons of lofty character can thereby bow and yield, and the Yi and Di (an ancient name for the peoples of remote regions) can thereby be held in check; a tiger will walk into a trap, a horse will charge into a net, and an enemy state will come of its own accord to offer aid, because food can confer advantage. Heaven and Earth can thereby blend in harmony, the divine spirits can thereby protect and guard, persons of lofty character can thereby bow and yield, and the Yi and Di can thereby submit and obey, because food is presented as an offering. Thus, from the Son of Heaven down to the common people, and on to all living beings, all can be brought into mutual connection through food. When I wear coarse cloth and eat plain fare, the people naturally feel warmth; when I eat the tender shoots of mallow, the people naturally have their fill. One who is skilled at applying this principle can assist the transforming influence of government by Wuwei (non-action).

The King

The hunter eats the mother beast and leaves the nursing young. What preserves life is the young, yet what strikes the net and is caught is the mother. The mother does not know what entanglement the young will bring upon her, nor do the young know what suffering the mother must bear. The cost of a king’s caps and robes and the price of the dishes at his banquets come to no more than a million in a year; yet the land he grants in fief to the feudal lords and the wealth and rank he bestows upon others amount to a million times a million. This is like flesh being disgorged from the king’s own body and his blood being sucked and drunk: joy falls upon his subjects, while resentment settles upon the king; the benefit goes to the many, while the blame falls on the king. If one does not regard oneself as noble, how would all under Heaven dare to regard one as noble? If one does not make oneself wealthy, how would all under Heaven dare to make one wealthy?

Crows and Kites

A person of wisdom, seeing kites (a kind of bird) attack rotting rats, and mole crickets and ants carry off dead insects, will sigh and say that to be an insect or a bird is not as good as to be a human being. Yet such a person does not realize that in a year of famine people will fight over stinking corpses, and that when hemmed in by enemy troops they will even eat the flesh of fathers, sons, and kin. These are things that even jackals and wolves cannot bear to do, yet human beings do them; in that case, to be human is on the contrary not as good as to be an insect or a bird.

Thus, if the ruler has nothing to eat, it is hard to practice benevolence; if ministers have nothing to eat, it is hard to hold to righteousness; if scholars have nothing to eat, it is hard to observe the rites; if the common people have nothing to eat, it is hard to remain wise; if the myriad things have nothing to eat, it is hard to keep faith. From this one may know that food is the root of benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and faithfulness—the “Five Constants” (the five basic virtues spoken of by the Confucians)—while the Five Constants are, on the contrary, the results brought about by food.

If the sovereign can distribute clothing fairly and is also willing to yield food to others, the people will be harmonious and pleased with one another: this is benevolence at its utmost. Fathers and sons caring for one another: this is righteousness at its utmost. The hungry and the full yielding to one another: this is propriety at its utmost. Advance and retreat coordinated with one another: this is wisdom at its utmost. Promises kept by one another: this is faithfulness at its utmost. Whether moral instruction goes well or poorly is in every case bound up with food. Food itself, though ordinary, has a function that is very great; its name, though unremarkable, brings about changes that reach very far. This is a priceless treasure.

Scroll Six: Transformation through Frugality

Great Peace

Water and fire are things of daily use. If they are used improperly, they may bring the family estate to ruin, and the reason lies in not knowing restraint. Food and drink are likewise daily necessities. If one eats what is not fitting, one may harm the body, and the reason lies in not knowing restraint. The rites are spoiled by extravagance, and music loses its proper character through excessive indulgence. Extravagance and indulgence are like flowing water: once they have flowed away, they are hard to recover. To remedy this situation, the best method is frugality.

Frugality is the means of making the distribution of food fair. When food is distributed fairly, benevolence and righteousness will grow; when benevolence and righteousness grow, rites and music can be kept in order; when rites and music are in order, the people harbor no resentment; when the people harbor no resentment, the gods and spirits do not grow angry. This is the enterprise of Great Peace.

Balance

Eating fine, soft, and delicate food, one does not feel the cold; wearing clothes of coarse cloth, one feels colder still. Eating fresh and delicious fruits and flowers, one does not feel hunger; eating coarse grains such as glutinous millet and common millet, one feels hungrier still. One’s own desires must therefore be carefully examined, and the minds of the people must likewise be carefully observed.

When the people see someone carrying stones, they feel that carrying earth is light; when they see someone carrying earth, they feel that carrying grass is lighter still. Hunger and cold have no fixed, unchanging form, and lightness and heaviness have no absolute standard. Abundance and frugality are compared with each other, and oneself and others are weighed against each other: if my desires grow heavy, the people’s desires grow heavy as well; if I am sparing in what I do, the people’s affairs grow lighter in turn. Only one who can practice frugality can become the standard by which the people measure what is light and what is heavy.

The Way of Ritual

Those who set store by ritual value grand display, while those who honor frugality value the absence of extravagance. Those who set store by ritual demand that everything be complete and thorough, while those who honor frugality do not seek elaborate fullness. Those who set store by ritual prize ornamental pins, tassels, and official robes, while those who honor frugality wear plain cloth and unadorned dress. Those who set store by ritual pursue splendor and ostentation, while those who honor frugality rest content in simplicity and quiet. When further wealth is added to the rich, they become still harder to satisfy; when further honor is added to the noble, they do not necessarily find it any better. The more rewards one receives, the more one feels they are not enough; the deeper the favor, the more easily respect is lost. Gold and jade are what people commonly regard as wealth, and office and rank are what people commonly regard as nobility. Yet water tastes sweet only when one is thirsty, and a meal smells fragrant only when one is hungry. Only through frugality can one understand which things are in fact not necessary.

On Seeing Elephants

One who is used to seeing elephants finds even beef insufficient to eat; one who longs only to wear the ceremonial crown finds an ordinary cap inadequate as well. Insatiable craving has its origin, and the loss of integrity and thrift has its beginning. Thus, if the ruler delights in luxury, his ministers will feel that goods are not enough; if the ministers delight in luxury, the gentry will feel that they do not have enough; if the gentry delight in luxury, the common people will feel that they do not have enough; and if all the people delight in luxury, the resources of the world will not suffice.

Reckon all things under heaven as ten shares in all. If the ruler wants one share, the people will want one share as well; if the ruler wants five shares, the people will want five shares as well; if the ruler wants ten shares, the people will want ten shares as well. Calculated on this basis, the resources of ten households suffice for the use of only one household, the resources of ten states suffice for the use of only one state, and the resources of the whole world suffice for the use of only one world. How could one not fall into hardship and exhaustion?

The Sentiments of the People

If the ruler delights in luxury, the people will follow and multiply their cravings. Calculated in this way, the resources of ten households suffice for the use of only one household, the resources of ten states suffice for the use of only one state, and the resources of the world are likewise compressed until they suffice for the use of only one world. How could one not fall into hardship and exhaustion?

A husband addicted to drink will surely leave his wife in poverty, and a son fond of keeping falcons will likewise plunge the whole household into hardship. Keeping one extra servant means giving him three ou of food each day—an ou being a vessel for holding food—which comes to a thousand ou over a year. If that year’s grain were used to provision an army, it would be enough to feed a thousand soldiers. When a ruler expends resources in this way year after year, the people are bound to labor hard and to store up resentment. The fault lies in ever-increasing enjoyment, not in any reduction.

If the ruler rides in an ox cart, the people come to regard luxurious travel as honorable; if the ruler dwells upon a high terrace, the people come to regard ordinary simplicity as shameful. Such tendencies must be checked as soon as they arise, and this depends on promoting moral instruction and esteeming frugality. Thus, when people see someone who does not even have enough kudzu cloth to wear, they are glad to dress in plain cloth; when they see someone eating from a hemp cup, they readily use pottery and gourd vessels—a pao being a vessel made from a gourd. This is the common feeling of the people.

Vulgar Designations

There are people in the world who are called by “vulgar designations” (lihao), titles that carry a note of contempt. Everyone takes this for a supreme disgrace, yet they do not realize that it may in fact be the beginning of following the Dao (the Way) of pure simplicity and frugality. Such a person seeks little for himself and takes little from the people. He tills the fields himself and eats of his own labor; he raises silkworms himself and weaves his own clothing. His wife and children do not suffer cold, his servants and maids do not go hungry, the people bear him no resentment, and the spirits send down no punishment upon him. Therefore, when one person understands frugality, a household prospers; when the ruler understands frugality, the realm prospers.

Ruler and People

Although ruler and people differ in station and title, their preferences are the same. If the ruler delights in riding out on horseback, the people will delight in it as well; if the ruler loves music and beautiful women, the people will love them as well; if the ruler prizes pearls and jade, the people will prize them as well; if the ruler craves fine flavors, the people will crave them as well. Though status and designation differ, the things they love are the same.

Thus, those who wear plain cloth envy the hairpins and seal-ribbons of the shi—ornaments and marks of rank such as hairpins and ribboned seals; the shi envy the swords and pendants of the dukes and ministers; and the dukes and ministers in turn envy the crowns of the ruler. The ruler occupies a lofty station that is the concern of the myriad people, and therefore cannot but reflect with care. What is more, jingen yuxia—lavishly ornamented fittings of carriages—drain the people’s wealth, and high terraces and storied towers drain the people’s labor. This is to invite the people’s resentment, and it is also to teach the people to covet luxury. Therefore, rather than storing up grain and firewood as a year’s reserve while treating gold and jade as the outlay of a single day, it is better to know restraint; otherwise one is bound to fall into hardship, and frugality ought all the more to be esteemed.

When a young child respectfully cups his hands and bows, who still has the heart to make sport of him? Is this because of his age or his clothing? When a herdboy holds to the rites and bends in greeting, who would turn away from him? Is this accomplished by punishments and government orders?

Where respect exists between host and guest, even a meal of chicken and millet may count as a grand banquet—why must there be refined music such as the Xiaoshao? When a woman’s bearing is gentle and modest, even the rough cutting of hemp cloth can fulfill the proper conduct of a woman—why must there be exquisite embroidery?

A king lays down institutions: he digs moats and raises walls for defense, arrays arms to stand guard, stores grain and cloth to provide for the people, and sets fences so as to keep a distance. This is because the people harbor schemes in their hearts, and the ruler cannot but take precautions; yet if the ruler thinks only of his own private interest, he will scarcely avoid putting the people on their guard. If the calculating mind with which a ruler pursues private gain can be set aside, the people will of themselves refrain from deceit; if he can restrain his own selfish desires, the ruler himself need not be suspicious or afraid. Frugality can serve as a teacher to the great.

The Handle of Transformation (the essential point in nurturing all things)

To hear little can nourish emptiness and stillness; to see little can nourish the spirit; to speak little can nourish primordial Qi (vital energy). To restrain selfish desire can accumulate wealth; to moderate spending on public business can preserve high station. If the guards at the palace gates are not extravagant, thieves will be few; if the sentries are not extravagant, revolts will be few; if official posts are kept few and simple, the treacherous and the flattering will be few; if affairs within the palace are held in check, one’s allotted years can be preserved; if the heart entertains few vain thoughts, one can transcend life and death. From this it may be known that frugality can become the root principle for the nurturing of all things.

Rulers all know that mastering “governing by the One” (yuyi)—bringing every affair under a single fundamental principle—makes it possible to order the world, yet they do not know what this One actually is. Each teaching has its own One: benevolence has the root of benevolence, righteousness the root of righteousness, ritual propriety the root of ritual propriety, wisdom the root of wisdom, and trustworthiness the root of trustworthiness. The One runs through these five virtues (De), and the five virtues alike take the One as their root. Grasp this root, and the world can be governed.

The principle here is in fact quite plain, yet it is worked out from that plainness; the words do not seem abstruse, yet they can lead one into far-reaching truth. People therefore often lose the essential point and in the end grow confused amid its subtleties. As for the way of holding to the root, nothing is more important than frugality. Restrain yourself by frugality, and benevolence will not run to excess, the practice of righteousness will not go astray, ritual will not become extravagant, wisdom will not deviate, and trustworthiness will not waver. Then the mind has a ruling center, conduct has a standard to follow, and the people have something on which to rely.

The Three Sovereigns (Sanhuang)

When the ruler is frugal, the ministers learn contentment; when the ministers are frugal, the scholar-officials learn contentment; when the scholar-officials are frugal, the common people learn contentment; when the common people are frugal, everyone under heaven learns contentment. Once all under heaven are content, they do not covet wealth or contend for reputation, nor do treachery, deceit, and flattery arise.

Ritual and righteousness therefore arise of themselves, penal laws and administrative orders grow stable, ditches and fortifications no longer stand as obstacles in conflict, arms and armor fall out of use, and those who wander about turn instead to tilling. In this way the transforming teaching of the Three Sovereigns can be put into practice.

The Shepherd of Heaven (Tianmu)

The extravagant person plans on three years’ income, yet it suffices for only one year’s spending; the frugal person arranges matters on one year’s income, yet it can supply three years’ use. Push extravagance to its limit, and there is still not enough; push frugality to its limit, and there is still a surplus. The extravagant, even when wealthy, still feel they lack; the frugal, even when poor, still feel in their hearts that they have more than enough. The heart of the extravagant is forever conscious of want; the heart of the frugal is forever conscious of abundance.

The extravagant like to draw close to others and therefore easily fall into fault; the frugal can keep a proper distance from others and therefore have fewer faults. One who serves a ruler extravagantly is bound to risk humiliation; one who serves a ruler frugally can preserve his stipend. The extravagant have many cares; the frugal have much good fortune. One who can maintain frugality to the end may become the shepherd of the world—that is, one who governs the world.

The Carved Cage (Diaolong)

Hang an ornately carved and decorated birdcage, feed the yellow sparrow food as precious as maize, and tend it with meticulous care—yet the yellow sparrow is never happy. Regulate people with rites and music, restrain them with rewards and punishments, and instruct the common people—yet the people never find peace. The human heart cannot be settled by force from outside; only when it settles of itself is the settling genuine. The Dao (the Way) cannot be held by deliberate grasping; only when it keeps itself naturally is the keeping genuine. The people cannot be changed by imposed instruction; only when they transform of their own accord is the change genuine.

Thus, if less is lavished on palaces, terraces, and pavilions, the people can spare more of their strength; if precious treasures and wealth are consumed less, the common people can retain more of their riches; if warfare and campaigns are reduced, the people can have more time. Not pressing a demand is, on the contrary, like giving; not taking in greed is, on the contrary, like obtaining. If officials by the sea do not seize the fish of the sea without cause, the fish will not leave the sea; if the ruler of a state does not seize the horses within the realm without cause, the horses will not leave the borders.

Essentials of Ritual

Ritual is something originally instituted by the ruler, yet the ruler may not understand its principle. Ritual affairs are carried out by the officials charged with them, yet those who hold the posts may not grasp their meaning. Confucian scholars live in seclusion among mountains and forests, honor their teachers and friends, study rites and music, and attend to the root and the branches of things. But when they see ceremonial canopies, processional insignia, and the ornament of carriages and horses, and hear the playing of bells, drums, and the music of the xiao and the Shao, they startle like deer and grow dazed like pigs—as if drunk, and as if drowning—and end by forgetting the root of ritual, nor do they understand its aim.

Call a bow an “arc,” and the common people will not understand; speak of one horse as “a team of four,” and the people will not believe it. Thus a profusion of numbers easily breeds confusion, while simplicity does not disorder; rites that are lavish and elaborate easily bewilder people, while brevity does not easily lead them astray. Only one who can take frugality as a teacher may grasp the essentials of ritual.

Clarity and Stillness

The extravagant like activity; the frugal like quiet. The extravagant like what is difficult and complex; the frugal like what is easy and plain. The extravagant like abundance; the frugal like simplicity. The extravagant like pleasure; the frugal like tranquil detachment.

Some treasure a single vessel and never let it suffer damage all their lives; some hang up a fur robe and do not wear it out in ten years. Such people can draw near to the common folk, can oversee grain and cloth, can keep tallies, tokens, and seals, and can also approach the Dao of clarity, stillness, and Wuwei (non-action).

Diminution and Increase

If benevolence knows no restraint, it lapses into a lack of benevolence; if righteousness knows no restraint, it turns into unrighteousness; if ritual propriety knows no restraint, it oversteps the norms of ritual; if wisdom knows no restraint, it comes to seem like an absence of wisdom; and if trustworthiness knows no restraint, it too becomes a failure to keep faith. Frugality is therefore the root of the five constant virtues—benevolence, righteousness, ritual propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness—while the Five Constants are the outward expression of frugality.

Ritual serves to augment and embellish, whereas frugality consists in reduction and restraint. Within augmentation lies the principle of reduction, and within reduction also lies the principle of augmentation. When rites and etiquette go to excess, they lapse into extravagance; when frugality is carried too far, it appears plain and crude. From ancient times to the present, no one has met with ruin on account of frugality.

Resolving Doubts

The humble are respected by others, and the frugal are cherished by others. If one is forever intent on forcing others to be humble and frugal, others may not in fact be able to manage it. When I myself am humble, the common people naturally follow in humility; when I myself am frugal, the common people naturally follow in frugality as well. The essential point lies here and not elsewhere; authority rests in the ruler’s hands, not in the hands of others. Those who dislike this way of acting are people whose minds are clouded by perplexity, and so this piece has been written expressly to make the matter clear.