《庄子集释》Vol. 8

This passage explains the origin and appearance of the northern water god Yu Qiang (also called Yu Jing). He is said to have a human face and a bird’s body, and to travel mounted on a dragon. In lineage he belongs, like Zhuanxu, to the line descended from Xuanyuan the Yellow Emperor (Huangdi). Though he too attained the Dao, he did not become a human sovereign; instead he serves as the god who governs water. In the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), water corresponds to the north, so this deity is also described as occupying the “Northern Pole”—symbolizing northern water virtue and the god of the far north.

Accounts of the name “Yu Qiang” differ in ancient books. Works such as the Classic of Mountains and Seas record that on a islet in the northern sea there is a spirit with a human face and bird body, green snakes hanging from his ears and red snakes under his feet, named Yu Qiang. Cui’s commentary cites the Great Wilderness Classic: the god of the northern sea is named Yu Qiang, and the spirit turtle serves him. The Guicang also records that King Mu of Zhou once consulted Yu Qiang by divination. Another account, from the Overseas Classic: Yu Qiang of the north has a black body, human hands and feet, and rides two dragons. Guo Pu regarded him as a water god with human face and bird body; in brief texts he is the god of the northern sea, also called Yu Jing, grandson of the Yellow Emperor.

The text then mentions “Shaoguang” as the name of a mountain at the western extremity; “Wangmu” refers to the Queen Mother of the West (Xiwangmu), who belongs to the essence of Greater Yin (Taiyin). Legend says she has a leopard’s tail and tiger’s teeth and is often smiling: in the time of Shun, envoys were sent to present a jade ring; in the reign of Emperor Wu of Han she offered green peaches. She appears as a woman of about sixteen or seventeen, very dignified, and usually dwells on Mount Shaoguang in the west; having transcended life and death, no one knows her beginning or end. Guo Pu also treats her as a divine figure linked to yin and water; here her account is set beside that of the northern Yu Qiang, both as explanations of “gods of the extreme directions” in myth.

[Commentary 18·Shu]

Peng Zu was a great-grandson of Emperor Zhuanxu and was enfeoffed at Pengcheng; his Way could serve as a model for humanity, hence the name Peng Zu. He was skilled at nurturing life and had attained the Dao. The so-called “Five Lords” (wubo): in the Xia there was Kunwu; in the Shang, Da Peng and Shiwei; in the Zhou, Duke Huan of Qi and Duke Wen of Jin—together called the Five Hegemons. Since Peng Zu had attained the Dao, he could live long, reaching from the time of Youyu down through the Yin and Zhou, about eight hundred years in all.

[Exegesis]

The explanation of “Peng Zu” is found in the Xiaoyao (Free and Easy Wandering) chapter. Cui’s commentary says he lived seven hundred years; some take him as an immortal who did not die, spanning from Youyu through the Yin and Zhou—eight hundred years in all.

[Exegesis · Five Lords (wubo)]

Wubo is read as the character for “lord” (bo), or with the pronunciation ba (hegemon). Cui and Li say: Xia lord Kunwu; Yin—Da Peng and Shiwei; Zhou—Duke Huan of Qi and Duke Wen of Jin.

[Note 19]

The Dao itself has no capacity to act as an agent. When the text says “obtaining it from the Dao,” that only marks something uniquely attained on one’s own. Since it is one’s own unique attainment, it is not that the Dao can obtain it for a person; if one has not yet attained it, the Dao cannot “obtain” it for one either. Thus whoever truly has attainment does not rely outward on the Dao as a resource, nor inward on forced effort of the self—they open out and transform of themselves, transforming alone. The difficulty of life lies precisely in this self-transforming attainment; once life is attained, why fear not attaining life and act deliberately for that? Therefore, seeking life for its own sake is not enough to preserve authentic life—because if life is not from oneself and one forces it, one injures the genuine life that is one’s own.

Nüyu said: “No! That will not do! You are not someone capable of learning this teaching.”

Buliangyi had natural endowment—he seemed to possess a sage’s talent, yet lacked a sage’s Dao; I possessed a sage’s Dao, yet lacked a sage’s talent. I wished to transmit the Dao to him, in the hope that he might truly become a sage through learning. Otherwise, to instruct someone who already had a sage’s natural gift with a sage’s Dao ought not to be overly difficult in itself. I still guarded the Dao and taught him gradually—after three days he could finally release “all under heaven” from his mind; once he had released all under heaven, I had him continue guarding, and after seven days he could release external things from his mind; once he had released external things, he guarded again, and after nine days he could lightly release even “his own life” from his mind. Only after one has transcended attachment to one’s own life can one attain zhaoche (morning clarity—the mind clear and bright as at dawn); only after zhaoche can one attain jiandu (seeing the One—beholding the unique Dao beyond all duality); only after jiandu can one cease distinguishing past from present; only after ceasing to distinguish past from present can one enter the realm of “neither death nor birth.” What is said to slay life does not die; what is said to nourish life is not born. As the source of the myriad things, there is nothing it does not send off, nothing it does not welcome, nothing it does not destroy, nothing it does not complete—this state is called yingning. Yingning means that after disturbance and contact, one can still settle and remain steadfast in one’s true self.

[2]

Bu is the surname and Liang the given name; Yi is the personal name. To treat inner emptiness, stillness, and concentrated detachment as “Dao,” and cleverness and quick wit as “talent,” means this: Liang Yi had skill for outward use but lacked the inner work of concentration and settling; Nü Ou (a personal name—the seeker who appears often below) had the ground of emptiness and detachment but was not clever or quick enough. Each leaned to one side and had not yet reached fullness and thoroughness. Still, when “talent” and “Dao” are weighed against each other, talent in the end cannot match Dao for being fundamental and for prevailing.

[3]

Shu means to admire and to hope; ji means to draw near; guo means to decide and to carry through. When people of the highest caliber hear the Great Dao, they still depend on earnest practice and real training; without that practice, the Dao cannot be grasped. So even after receiving teaching, one must still study and cultivate—admire and approach the subtle Dao—before one can decide and become a sage. When that fails, a spoken announcement is easy, but truly holding to it and putting it into practice is hard. Nü Ou had long heard the utmost Dao and her heart was already still and empty; now that she was to transmit and tell others, she still kept it to herself and would not let it go. All the more for those just beginning—they must not slacken. Even speaking with the mouth and listening with the ears—what good does that do? Thus it is not “knowing” that is difficult, but “doing” that is difficult.

[4]

Wai here carries the sense of forgetting and setting aside. Being a master is not easy; transmitting the Way is especially hard. Precisely because she was about to teach, she concentrated her spirit and stilled her thoughts, cultivated and guarded it—for three full days. Once the heart was empty and still, every kind of realm became empty; then heaven above and earth below seemed as if they no longer existed at all.

[5]

Wu refers to what one needs morning and evening—things closely tied to oneself and hard to relinquish.

The various realms of experience in the world lie far from people, so they are easy to forget; what one needs to nurture the body is right at hand, so it is hard to let go. Only after holding to practice through the seventh day can one release such attachments altogether. Guo Xiang notes that “things” (wu) here means what one cannot do without morning and night—what is bound up with the person and hard to abandon.

【Six】【Commentary】 Let everything go.

【Commentary】 Cast off clinging to the body and the wish to leave the physical form; enter the states of “sitting and forgetting” (zuowang) and “losing the self” (sang wo). As the mind keeps at it over time, shedding fixations goes deeper step by step.

【Seven】【Commentary】 Let go even of clinging to “life,” and one no longer loathes death. Without loathing death, one can be at ease in whatever comes; the heart opens without obstruction and moves with each turning—this is called “morning clarity” (zhao che).

【Commentary】 “Zhao” is early dawn; “che” is penetrating brightness. When life and death are seen on a level, self and things forgotten, wisdom shines clear like the sun at daybreak—hence “morning clarity.”

【Eight】【Commentary】 Whatever one meets, rest in it; no longer tally what comes before or after in sequence—this is “seeing the One” (jian du).

【Commentary】 The utmost Dao is still and unmoving; its subtlety lies beyond words and images—neither being nor non-being, neither ancient nor modern, coming and going alone, relying on no counterpart. To see this singular realm is “seeing the One.” The Laozi’s “Silent, empty; standing alone, unchanging” points the same way.

【Nine】【Commentary】 Go forward together with the “One.”

【Commentary】 Let the maker renew things day by day; turn with change as it flows; do not be pulled about by outer things—then there is no split between ancient and modern.