《冲虚至德真经解》Vol. 5

Although the “Yang Zhu” chapter uses Yang Zhu’s words to illuminate the Dao, on the surface it seems not to stress their subtle import. Yet the book as a whole takes as its guiding idea that all things ultimately return to nothingness, viewing them as desolate and empty, like a valley after its flock of sheep has vanished. That is why it selects the parts of Yang Zhu’s teachings most easily dismissed as heretical and discusses them alongside the Way of the sages: to keep students from clinging to the outward appearance of the sages’ words and deeds, and instead lead them to seek the sages’ innermost intent.

The quotations from Yang Zhu in the “Yang Zhu” chapter, then, serve only to prevent people from misunderstanding the ultimate Dao. The chapter even says that four sages and two villains alike eventually perish. Later readers may well wonder: did Liezi really think that Yao and Shun had strayed from the Dao, and did he himself truly preach heresy like Yang Zhu? Such doubts arise from reading only the words and failing to grasp what they are meant to convey.

The truth is that this chapter reflects Liezi’s deepest intent, and its thought runs continuously alongside that of Yao, Shun, Yu, Tang, King Wen, King Wu, the Duke of Zhou, and Confucius. Confucius said, “Perhaps only the Spring and Autumn Annals truly understands me; perhaps only the Spring and Autumn Annals will condemn me.” The “Yang Zhu” chapter of the Liezi is much the same.

The eighth book of the Explanation of the True Classic of the Perfect Virtue of Chongxu, the “Explaining Signs” chapter, discusses how sages respond to the world, conduct themselves among others, and govern a state. Many of its stories use everyday things to show that people’s words and actions bring corresponding consequences, that one must read circumstances clearly, and that one should follow the patterns of things.

Huqiuzilin told Liezi that only after understanding “keeping behind” could one speak of “keeping oneself.” Liezi looked back at his shadow: when his body bent, the shadow bent; when his body straightened, the shadow stood straight. The shadow changed in response to the body, just as a person’s advances and retreats should adjust to circumstances. When others go first, one can follow; when they stop, one can stop too. Though this seems to put one behind, it avoids contention and can leave one securely in the leading position. The commentator explains that a sage responds to events only after being moved by them, and acts only when there is no other choice, never forcing a bid to be first.

Guan Yin told Liezi that good words receive a good response, while poor words receive a poor one. A reputation is like an echo, and a person’s conduct is like a shadow, so one should be careful in both speech and action. The Book of Changes also says that speech and conduct are the means by which a noble person brings honor or disgrace upon himself. A sage can infer changes that have yet to appear from signs that are already visible. This is the principle of “seeing what emerges to know what enters, and observing what has passed to know what is coming.”

The way one treats others often determines how they respond. If others love me, I should treat them with love in return; if they dislike me, I should understand that there must be a reason. Tang of Shang and King Wu of Zhou prospered by extending kindness to the world, while Jie of Xia and Zhou of Shang perished after losing the people’s support. The commentator says that sages do not love or hate others arbitrarily in response to whether they themselves are loved or hated. Instead, they discern the reasons behind others’ feelings. Governing the world and judging success or failure both require understanding these patterns of cause and effect.

Yan Hui believed that seeking wealth was better than seeking the Dao. Liezi replied that Jie and Zhou valued profit and scorned righteousness, and so they perished. A person who cares only about food and drink, without regard for righteousness, is no different from a chicken or dog; one who relies on force to seize food and treats winning and losing as the only rule is no different from a wild beast. Such people cannot earn the respect of others and will eventually bring danger and disgrace upon themselves. Liezi added that hitting a target with an arrow is not enough: one must know why the shot succeeded. Guan Yin had him practice repeatedly until he understood the reason for his accuracy, then told him to hold fast to that principle. Governing a state and cultivating oneself are the same: one should investigate the causes of success and failure rather than look only at the outcome.

Liezi said that people with striking appearances are prone to arrogance, while those with great strength are prone to domineering behavior. It is therefore unwise to speak casually about the Dao with the young and vigorous. In old age, desires and thoughts tend to settle, making it easier to understand and put principles into practice. The commentator adds that if one follows nature and preserves the childlike purity of an infant, one can remain free of arrogance when young and avoid decline and depletion in old age.

The difficulty of governing lies in recognizing and appointing the worthy, not in a ruler’s belief that he himself is wise. If one can enable others to give their full effort, one will not decline with age; if one can draw on others’ intelligence, one will not fall into confusion because one’s own powers of thought are exhausted.

A man from Song carved a leaf from a parasol tree out of jade. He spent three years on it, making it so finely that it could hardly be distinguished from a real leaf, and for this he received support from the state of Song. Liezi said that if Heaven and Earth needed three years to grow a single leaf, there would be far fewer leafy trees in the world. Sages rely on the Dao’s natural transformations, not on their own cleverness. The commentator points out that although human craft can imitate nature, it takes time and effort; Heaven and Earth nurture the myriad things swiftly and without displaying their skill.

Liezi was poor, and Ziyang of Zheng, having heard that he was a man of the Dao, sent someone to give him grain. Liezi declined, saying that Ziyang did not truly know him and had sent the grain only because he had heard what others said. If Ziyang later heard others’ words and decided to punish him, he would act in the same way. So Liezi refused the gift. Later, the people did indeed rebel and kill Ziyang. The commentator uses this story to show that gifts should neither be accepted nor refused casually. If accepting one would go against the Dao, one should not force oneself to do so even if refusing brings hardship.

The two sons of Shi of Lu each had a particular strength. One excelled in scholarship, the other in military strategy. They went to Qi and Chu, respectively, seeking employment, and both were put to good use. The two sons of their neighbor, Meng, learned the same skills but went to the wrong places. The son who had studied benevolence and righteousness went to Qin, where the king banished him and subjected him to castration. The son who had studied military strategy went to Wei, where the ruler had his feet cut off and then sent him back to Lu. Shi said that those who meet the right time prosper, while those who miss it fall into difficulty. There is no rule that makes a course of action right or wrong for all time; the key is to respond flexibly to circumstances. The commentator explains that benevolence and righteousness suited Qi’s way of governing, while military strategy suited Qin’s needs in warfare. Meng’s sons applied their skills in the wrong places. Adapting to the times is a mark of wisdom, but a person’s fate also plays a part in what happens to him.

Duke Wen of Jin was about to send troops against Wei when Prince Chu looked up at the sky and laughed. He told a story: a man was taking his wife back to her parents’ home when he saw a woman picking mulberry leaves along the road and went over to flirt with her. When he turned back, he found that someone else was making advances to his own wife. Duke Wen understood the warning and withdrew his army. Before long, someone did attack Jin’s northern border. The commentator says that other people have desires like our own. If we pursue only what we want and ignore others’ circumstances, we will lose our way.

In Jin, a man named Xi Yong could identify thieves from their eyes and expressions, and he caught many of them. The Marquis of Jin thought this would be enough to eliminate theft. Zhao Wenzi, however, said that relying on inspections could catch people only after a theft had taken place, and that Xi Yong might also be attacked in revenge by the thieves. As it happened, the thieves conspired to kill Xi Yong. Zhao Wenzi advised the ruler to appoint worthy people and promote moral instruction, so that those above would understand how to govern and the people would feel shame; only then would theft diminish. Jin later appointed Sui Hui to govern, and the thieves fled to Qin in droves. The commentator points out that moral instruction can reduce theft at its roots. Since Jin was relying on surveillance at the time, Zhao Wenzi first proposed a remedy for that immediate problem.

On his way back from Wei to Lu, Confucius stopped by a river and saw a man cross a dangerous torrent. The water was so treacherous that even fish and turtles could scarcely survive in it, yet the man crossed calmly. Confucius asked whether he had a special technique. The man replied that he entered the water with a sincere and faithful heart and came out with the same heart. He let his body follow the current and did not set his own will against the flow, so he could go in and come out again. Confucius told his disciples to remember this: if even water can be approached through faithfulness and sincerity, how much more so can people. The commentator explains faithfulness as following the nature of things, without suspicion or forced interference.

Bai Gong asked Confucius whether people could speak in secret to one another. Confucius did not answer directly. Bai Gong then offered an analogy: if someone threw a stone into the water, who could retrieve it? Confucius said that a skilled diver could. If water were poured into water, who could tell them apart? Confucius said that Yi Ya could distinguish the tastes of the Zi and Mian rivers. Bai Gong then asked whether people could not speak secretly with one another. Confucius replied that those who truly understand speech need not rely on words to express themselves. Those who compete for fish get wet; those who chase animals run. They do not do so because they enjoy it, but because they are trying to win their prize. Truly profound speech need not depend on words, and genuine action need not make a show of acting. Shallow intelligence only chases after trivial details. Bai Gong later died in a bathhouse. The commentator says that Bai Gong was harboring thoughts of revenge, and Confucius had already seen through his intentions. The more one tries to make one’s words secret, the more easily one reveals what one means to do.

Zhao Xiangzi sent Xinzhi Muzi to attack the Di, and the army captured two cities in a single day. When the messenger arrived with the news, Zhao Xiangzi looked worried. He said that even great rivers eventually dry up, and violent storms cannot last long. The Zhao house had not yet spread its virtue widely, yet it had captured two cities at once; perhaps disaster would soon befall them. Confucius heard this and praised the Zhao house, saying it might prosper because worry makes people cautious, while joy and self-satisfaction can bring ruin. Winning is not difficult; the difficulty is holding on to victory. Qi, Chu, Wu, and Yue had all won victories, yet in the end they perished because they did not know how to preserve their gains. Confucius had enough strength to push open a city gate but did not make his reputation through physical force. Mozi brought Gongshu Ban to submission but did not boast of using force. Those who know how to preserve victory show their strength through humility. The commentator says that things decline once they reach their peak. One can hold on to a victory only by remaining gentle and humble.

For three generations, one family in Song upheld benevolence and righteousness. One day, a black cow unexpectedly gave birth to a white calf. The father asked Confucius about it. Confucius said it was an auspicious sign and told him to sacrifice the ox to the Supreme Ruler. A year later, the father unexpectedly went blind. After another white calf was born, he asked Confucius again. Confucius still said it was auspicious and urged him to continue the sacrifice. Later, the son also went blind. Chu attacked Song, and the people suffered so badly that they exchanged children for food and cooked bones for nourishment. Most able-bodied men died in battle. Because the father and son were blind, they were spared the tasks of defending the city and fighting; after the siege was lifted, their sight returned. The commentator explains that good and ill fortune cannot be judged by what happens in a single moment. Confucius’s words at first seemed not to come true, but their reason became clear later. A sage speaks of the patterns of things, and sometimes it takes time for the outcome to appear.

The ruler Yuan of Song once rewarded a man skilled in a particular art. Later, another man performed a swallow act, but the ruler became angry and had him detained before eventually releasing him. The two men’s skills were similar, yet they received different rewards and punishments. The commentator offers this as a reminder that external circumstances are hard to predict, and that a noble person should focus on what he can control.

Duke Mu of Qin asked Bo Le to recommend someone who could judge horses. Bo Le said that his son could recognize the appearance and bones of ordinary fine horses, but that for a rare steed such as the world had seldom seen, Duke Mu should seek out Jiu Fang Gao. After searching for three months, Jiu Fang Gao returned and said he had found a horse at Shaqiu. Asked what it looked like, he said it was a yellow mare. When someone went to inspect it, the horse turned out to be a black stallion. Duke Mu was displeased, but Bo Le explained that Jiu Fang Gao judged horses by their inner qualities, overlooking outward details such as color and sex. When the horse arrived, it proved to be one of the rarest in the world. The commentator says that ordinary horse judging depends on appearance and bone structure, but recognizing an extraordinary horse requires grasping its inner endowment without being limited by surface features.

King Zhuang of Chu asked Zhan He how to govern the state. Zhan He said that he knew only how to cultivate himself, not how to govern. The king replied that he was responsible for protecting the ancestral temples and the state, and hoped to hear about the principles of government. Zhan He answered that he had never heard of a state remaining in disorder when its ruler cultivated himself in accordance with the Dao, nor of a state being well governed when its ruler was personally in disorder. The root lay in oneself, so he dared not speak only of the branches. King Zhuang praised his answer.

The Elder of Hugu told Sun Shuao that people face three kinds of resentment: a high rank may arouse jealousy, a powerful office may make the ruler suspicious, and a generous stipend may attract resentment. Sun Shuao replied that the higher his rank, the humbler he would make his aspirations; the greater his office, the more cautious he would be; and the more generous his stipend, the more widely he would share it. In this way, he might avoid all three kinds of resentment. Before he died, Sun Shuao also told his son that if the King of Chu granted him land, he should not accept a fertile estate, but ask only for Qin Qiu. Neither Chu nor Yue valued that place, and so his descendants kept it for generations. The commentator says that remaining humble in a high position, giving generously when wealthy, and choosing land that no one would contest can keep a person away from resentment and avert the disasters that come from wealth and rank reaching their fullness.

Niu Que was a renowned Confucian of Shangdi. On the road, he was robbed of his clothes, cart, and ox. He walked away calmly. When the thieves chased after him and asked why, he said that a noble person would not let the things that sustain the body damage the virtue he holds dear. The thieves feared that he might later report them to the ruler of Zhao, so they killed him. When people in Yan heard what had happened, they told their kin to imitate Niu Que if they were robbed. As a result, when Niu Que’s younger brother was robbed, he fought desperately to get his belongings back. When he could not win, he pleaded quietly for the thieves to return them. The thieves thought he would reveal their whereabouts, so they killed him too, implicating others in the process. The commentator says that both Niu Que and his brother went too far: Niu Que did not need to question the thieves, and after failing to win, his brother did not need to keep pressing them. By making their intentions known to one another, they brought about their own deaths.

Yu of Liang was wealthy, and his household often held banquets with music and gambling in a tall building. A group of wanderers passed by just as someone upstairs threw dice. An eagle happened to drop a rotten rat, which struck the men below. Thinking they had been insulted, they joined together and wiped out Yu’s entire family. The commentator says that wealth can stir resentment if it has been amassed through hoarding, and ostentatious displays of extravagance can provoke trouble. A disaster may appear accidental, yet it can also be connected to resentment aroused by arrogance and luxury.

Yuan Jingmu of the east collapsed from hunger by the roadside. A robber from Hufu, Qiu, gave him food. After he regained consciousness and learned that the man was a robber, Yuan Jingmu decided that he should not have eaten food given by a robber. He forced himself to vomit and eventually died. The commentator says that although Qiu was a robber, in this instance he was giving food, not stealing. Yuan Jingmu confused the man’s reputation with what he was actually doing at that moment, and brought harm upon himself.

Zhu Lishu once served Duke Ao of Ju, but left when he felt that his service was not appreciated, and lived in seclusion by the sea. Later, when Duke Ao met with disaster, Zhu Lishu hurried to die for him. A friend said that if Zhu Lishu had once believed the duke did not appreciate him, then his willingness to die for him now showed that the duke had in fact understood him. Zhu Lishu replied that it was precisely because he had believed himself unappreciated that he left; by dying for the duke now, he proved that the ruler truly did not understand him. He had done this to make later rulers ashamed of failing to understand their ministers. The commentator criticizes him for forgetting himself in resentment. Seeking to be understood by others can draw one into false judgments and ultimately bring harm. A noble person should distinguish which deaths have meaning and should not rush to die out of resentment.

Yang Zhu said that when benefit flows out from oneself, benefit may come back in; when resentment is formed toward others, harm may return. Things begin with oneself, but their effects appear beyond oneself, so the worthy must be careful in their words and actions.

A neighbor of Yang Zhu lost a sheep, and many people went out to look for it. But they came to a fork in the road, then another fork beyond it, and could not find the sheep, so they returned empty-handed. Yang Zhu was saddened by this and did not smile all day. His disciples asked why he was troubled over someone else’s sheep, but Yang Zhu did not answer. Later, Xinduzi offered an example: three brothers had studied benevolence and righteousness under the same teacher, but each returned home with a different view. One said that benevolence and righteousness let a person preserve his life; another said they let a person sacrifice his life to gain a name; the third said they let a person preserve both life and reputation. Xinduzi asked which view was right. Yang Zhu answered with a story about learning to swim: a man learned to swim so he could earn a living by crossing rivers, yet many people drowned as a result. Rather than simply ask which person was right or wrong, one should examine whether the method was appropriate. Xinduzi explained that the Great Dao could lead people to the same destination, but learners lose their way when there are too many paths, just as the people searching for the sheep became lost among the forks. The roots of learning may be the same, while its branches differ; if one cannot return to the common root, the more one studies, the more lost one becomes. The commentator says that learning the Dao is like crossing a river. If one treats many different methods as the goal, one may become trapped by them. Those who follow the Great Dao without craving shortcuts are less likely to lose their way.

Yang Zhu’s younger brother Yang Bu went out wearing white. After it rained, he changed into black clothes on his way home. The dog did not recognize him and barked. Yang Bu grew angry and was about to beat it, but Yang Zhu said, “If the dog had gone out white and come back black, would you not find that strange?” The commentator uses this story to show that people often fail to notice when their appearance has changed. If we grow angry simply because someone looks different, whom should we blame for the mistake?

Yang Zhu also said that doing good may not be intended to win fame, yet it may bring fame; fame may not be sought for profit, yet profit may follow; profit may not be sought through conflict, yet conflict may result. A noble person must therefore be careful even when doing good, and must not act kindly in order to gain a name. By refusing to pursue fame, one is less likely to invite competition.

Long ago, a man claimed to know the method of immortality. The King of Yan sent someone to learn it, but before he could do so, the man died. The king was furious and wanted to punish his emissary. A favored minister advised him: “People fear death most and value life most. If the man who taught immortality could not preserve even his own life, how could he keep Your Majesty from dying?” The king then let the matter go. Fuzi of Qi heard about this and regretted that he had not learned the method. Fuzi believed that some people can carry out a method without understanding its principles, while others understand the principles but cannot put them into practice. A skilled calculator, on his deathbed, told his son the secret of his method. The son remembered the words but could not perform the calculation; another person followed the instructions he had repeated and succeeded. The commentator says that principles can be conveyed through books and speech, but they cannot simply be handed over to another person; one must also truly master how to apply them. Liezi, too, wrote his book in order to help readers grasp the Dao through words.

On the first day of the lunar year, the people of Handan presented doves to Zhao Jianzi, who was pleased and rewarded them generously. A guest asked why. Zhao Jianzi said that releasing the birds displayed his benevolence. The guest pointed out that, knowing their ruler liked to release birds, the people would compete to catch them, causing many birds to die. If he truly wanted them to live, he should forbid people to catch them. Zhao Jianzi agreed. The commentator says that a kindness that goes against nature and causes greater harm cannot be called genuine benevolence.

The Tian family of Qi hosted a banquet in their courtyard for a thousand guests. Someone presented fish and geese, and Tian sighed that Heaven and Earth had treated humanity generously by growing the five grains and raising fish and birds for people to use. Bao, a twelve-year-old boy, objected. All things exist alongside human beings; none is higher or lower, more noble or less noble. They differ only in size, intelligence, and strength, and so they restrain and consume one another. The fact that people eat fish and birds does not mean those creatures were originally born for human use. Nor does the fact that mosquitoes bite people or tigers and wolves eat meat mean that Heaven and Earth created people and meat specifically for them. The commentator says that things were not originally born for one another. People’s use of other lives through strength and intelligence is simply a relationship that developed later.

A poor man in Qi often begged for food in the city. When people grew tired of him and stopped giving, he went to work in the Tian family’s stables and earned his food through labor. Someone mocked him for taking a humiliating job working with horses. He replied that the greatest shame in the world was begging for food. If he had not felt ashamed to beg, why should he be ashamed to work as a groom? The commentator says that he accepted his poverty and was not easily swayed by praise or disgrace from others.

A man in Song found someone else’s lost contract token, took it home, and hid it away. Counting its notches, he told his neighbor he would soon become rich. The commentator says that finding a contract token does not make one wealthy, just as reading the words of the ancients without understanding their principles does not bring one to the Dao.

A man heard his neighbor’s father say that a dead parasol tree was inauspicious, so he cut it down. The neighbor’s father then asked to take the firewood. The man suspected that the other had advised him to cut the tree only because he wanted the wood. The commentator says that the man may not have advised him to cut it with the intention of getting the firewood, but asking for it afterward naturally aroused suspicion. What matters is one’s own judgment; one should not conclude that another person is malicious on the basis of a single incident.

A man lost an axe and suspected that his neighbor’s son had stolen it. He thought the boy walked, looked, spoke, and moved like a thief. Later, he found the axe in a valley. When he saw the neighbor’s son again, nothing about him seemed at all like a thief. The commentator says that suspicion shapes what people see. Once suspicion falls away, behavior that seemed suspicious no longer appears so.

Bai Gong Sheng was plotting a rebellion. After the court session, he stood with the point of his staff pressed against his chin, piercing it until it bled without his noticing. When people in Zheng heard about it, they said, “If a man can forget even his own chin, what else could he not forget?” The commentator uses this story to show that when a person’s mind is wholly taken up with something, he may not even notice an injury to his body. Such absorption can make one forget oneself, but it can also trap one in fixation.

Once, a man from Qi dressed carefully early one morning and went to the market. When he reached a stall selling gold, he grabbed some gold and ran. After officials caught him, they asked, “Why would you steal when so many people were there?” He replied, “When I took the gold, I saw only the gold, not the people around me.” The final commentator’s note observes that the Liezi explains principles through all kinds of things. Whether a person can grasp them depends on whether desire has clouded his vision. “Explaining Signs” discusses both the foundation of the Dao and its workings in everyday life: in one’s dealings with others, one must understand one’s own limits and the signs offered by the world; in governing, one must recognize and appoint worthy people; and in acting, one must follow the circumstances. The book opens with the transformations of nature and ends with the verification of principles in human affairs. This reflects a movement from the Dao of nature into human affairs, and from human affairs back to an understanding of the Dao of nature.

Explanatory Commentary on the True Classic of Emptiness and Perfect Virtue, Volume Eight.