《沖虛至德真經鬳齋口義》Vol. 6

This dialogue, through the debate between "human effort" and "heavenly mandate," reveals the Daoist understanding of destiny. Human effort (representing deliberate striving) boasts to heavenly mandate of its ability to determine lifespan, circumstances of prosperity or adversity, and social status. Heavenly mandate counters with historical examples: Peng Zu lived eight hundred years though less wise than Yao and Shun, while Yan Hui died at eighteen despite his exceptional talent; Confucius, virtuous as he was, suffered hardship in Chen and Cai, while the tyrannical King Zhou of Shang ruled as sovereign; Ji Zha remained without noble rank though worthy, while the deceitful Tian Heng controlled Qi; Bo Yi and Shu Qi starved at Shouyang Mountain, while the Ji family grew richer than Zhan Qin.

Heavenly mandate concludes: Can such seemingly contradictory phenomena truly be controlled by human effort? In truth, the length of life and circumstances of fortune arise spontaneously from nature—I merely follow their course, neither arranging them deliberately nor forcing intervention. Human effort ultimately admits its inability to explain these phenomena, while heavenly mandate emphasizes that what we call "destiny" is simply how things naturally are, with no sovereign controller behind it.

The later comparison between Beigongzi and Ximenzi further illustrates this point: Even those living in the same era, sharing kinship, resembling each other in appearance, behaving similarly, and practicing the same profession may experience vastly different fortunes. This confirms the Daoist principle of "natural non-action" (Wuwei)—human destinies, like all phenomena in nature, follow spontaneously arising patterns beyond forced human control. As Zhuangzi said, "All things depend on conditions to be so"—every phenomenon emerges from the natural interplay of multiple factors, never determined by any singular force.

This scripture recounts the story between Beigongzi and Ximenzi, and how Master Dongguo enlightened them.

Beigongzi habitually wore coarse clothing, ate simple food, lived in a thatched hut, and walked wherever he went. In contrast, Ximenzi dressed in fine silks, indulged in delicacies, resided in a grand mansion, and rode in horse-drawn carriages. At home, Ximenzi treated Beigongzi with indifference; at court, he displayed arrogant behavior toward him. The two had not interacted for a long time. Ximenzi believed this was because he himself possessed superior ability and good fortune, while Beigongzi was incompetent and unlucky. He even mocked Beigongzi for being shameless.

Dejected, Beigongzi was returning home when he encountered Master Dongguo on the road. The master asked why he looked so dispirited and, after hearing his story, decided to help Beigongzi confront Ximenzi. Master Dongguo said to Ximenzi: "When you speak of thickness and thinness, you refer to talent and virtue (De), but my meaning is different. Beigongzi's virtue is profound, though his fate is harsh; your fate is favorable, but your virtue is shallow. Your success doesn't come from wisdom, nor does Beigongzi's hardship stem from foolishness. These are matters of heavenly mandate, beyond human control. You take pride in your good fortune, while Beigongzi feels ashamed of his virtue—neither of you understands this truth."

Hearing this, Ximenzi said remorsefully: "Master, say no more. I dare not speak carelessly again." When Beigongzi returned home, his coarse clothes now felt as warm as fox fur, his simple food tasted as delicious as fine cuisine, his thatched hut seemed as comfortable as a mansion, and his broken cart rode as smoothly as an elegant carriage. From then on, he no longer concerned himself with honor or disgrace, gain or loss. When Master Dongguo heard of this, he sighed: "Beigongzi was confused for so long, yet awakened with just one remark—how easily enlightened he was!"

The passage concludes with the character "lian" (连), suggesting how people often favor only those close to them.

The passage presents two main sections of content:

The first section explains certain terms and life philosophies. "Lìlì" describes the appearance of long, continuous eaves. "Creating affairs" refers to human actions and endeavors. Life presents two states - adversity (qióng) and prosperity (dá). In adversity, one should act with substance; in prosperity, with lightness. Here "thick and thin" refers to the measure of one's capabilities. "Yǔyǔ" depicts a slow, deliberate walking gait. The character "shě" means to let go, as in releasing your shame. A person's prosperity doesn't stem from cleverness, nor adversity from foolishness - one shouldn't feel pride or inferiority based on fortune's favor, as these follow natural patterns. "Róngshū" refers to a type of soybean, metaphorically representing those with virtue (De) but poor fortune, or ability without proper timing; conversely, some have good fortune but insufficient virtue, merely benefiting from favorable circumstances. Here "De" and "ability" carry similar meanings, not specifically moral cultivation.

The second section recounts the story of Guan Zhong (Guan Yiwu) and Bao Shuya. Close friends serving in Qi state, Guan Zhong assisted Prince Jiu while Bao Shuya served Prince Xiaobai (later Duke Huan of Qi). During political turmoil, both princes fled - Jiu to Lu state and Xiaobai to Ju. When Gongsun Wuzhi rebelled, the princes contended for rulership, with Guan Zhong shooting Xiaobai's belt hook in battle. After Xiaobai's accession, he forced Lu to execute Jiu - Zhao Hu committed suicide while Guan Zhong was imprisoned. Bao Shuya recommended Guan Zhong to Duke Huan, praising his governance talents. Though the duke sought vengeance, Bao Shuya advised: "Wise rulers hold no private grudges. One loyal to former masters will serve new lords faithfully. To achieve hegemony, you must employ Guan Zhong." The duke pardoned Guan Zhong, with Bao Shuya personally welcoming him beyond the city walls to remove his fetters. Honoring Guan Zhong above noble clans Gao and Guo, the duke addressed him as "Uncle Zhong," ultimately establishing Qi's dominance.

Guan Zhong once reflected: "In my impoverished youth doing business with Bao Shuya, when I took larger shares he never called me greedy, knowing my hardship; when my plans worsened his situation he never deemed me foolish, understanding timing's variations; though thrice appointed and thrice dismissed from office, Bao Shuya...". This reveals Bao Shuya's profound understanding and genuine friendship toward Guan Zhong.

Guan Zhong said: "Bao Shuya never looked down on me for my failures, knowing I simply hadn't encountered the right opportunity. When I fled from battle three times, he didn't consider me cowardly, understanding I had an elderly mother to support. After Prince Jiu's defeat, when Shao Hu chose death for his lord, I endured imprisonment and humiliation—yet Bao Shuya didn't deem me shameless, for he knew I cared not for petty virtues but for achieving greatness. My parents gave me life, but Bao Shuya truly knew my heart."

The world praises Bao Shuya's gift for friendship and Duke Huan of Qi's talent for employing men. Yet these weren't deliberate acts but necessities of circumstance: Shao Hu had to die, Bao Shuya had to recommend talent, and Duke Huan had to employ his former enemy (Guan Zhong had once shot the Duke). The phrase "very close" refers to intimate relationships, while "the Guo and Gao clans" denote two powerful noble families of Qi.

Later, when Guan Zhong fell gravely ill, Duke Huan visited him, saying: "Your illness is severe, Zhongfu (honorific for Guan Zhong), and I must ask—if the worst should happen, to whom should I entrust the state?" Guan Zhong countered: "Whom would you choose?" The Duke proposed Bao Shuya. Guan Zhong objected, explaining Bao Shuya's character was too austere—he disdained those beneath him, held grudges, and would both restrain his sovereign above and oppose popular will below, soon incurring blame.

"Then who is suitable?" pressed the Duke. Guan Zhong replied: "If absolutely necessary, Xi Peng would serve. He neither claims merit before superiors nor acts arrogantly to inferiors, always considering himself less virtuous than the Yellow Emperor while showing compassion to lesser men. Those who transform others through virtue are sages; those who aid through material means are worthies. One who dominates by worthiness loses the people's hearts, while one who humbly serves through worthiness gains them. Xi Peng knows when to govern broadly and when to overlook details in state affairs, just as he understands domestic tolerance—he may suffice."

The expression "gravely ill" emphasizes the severity of the condition, while "cannot avoid speaking" indicates necessary frankness. "Disdains those inferior to himself" conveys contempt for lesser men. This dialogue between Guan Zhong and Duke Huan reveals profound wisdom in recognizing talent, emphasizing that true statesmanship requires both virtue and inclusiveness.

This passage illustrates the Daoist concept of "human destiny lies beyond human control" through several historical anecdotes.

Guan Zhong's (Guan Yiwu) changing attitudes toward Bao Shuya and Xi Peng were not matters of personal preference. Initially favoring Xi Peng, his affection may have waned over time, while his seemingly indifferent treatment of Bao Shuya gave way to evident regard at life's end. These fluctuations in human relationships demonstrate how destiny, rather than individual will, ultimately governs such matters. Though the bond between Guan and Bao was profound, history's final judgment appears unfair to Bao Shuya - precisely illustrating how celestial will determines weighty matters like selecting a prime minister.

Deng Xi (Deng Xizi), master of sophistry, developed the "double possibility" argument (a dialectical method justifying opposing views) and created the Bamboo Penal Code (legal statutes inscribed on bamboo slips). When Zi Chan adopted these laws in governance, Deng Xi repeatedly used them to obstruct Zi Chan's administration. Initially yielding to Deng Xi's rhetorical skills, Zi Chan ultimately arrested and executed him. This reversal wasn't Zi Chan's deliberate choice to employ the Bamboo Penal Code or kill Deng Xi, but rather an inevitable response to circumstances.

These stories collectively reveal how human affairs - gratitude and grudges, calamities and blessings, rights and wrongs, successes and failures - follow destiny's natural course, as exemplified by Zi Chan's dramatic shift from adopting Deng Xi's laws to executing him. The paradox of a lawmaker ultimately destroyed by his own laws perfectly embodies the Daoist doctrine of "effort versus destiny" - that human striving ultimately yields to celestial arrangement.

This passage explores the philosophical relationship between life, death, and celestial mandate (天命). The essence is:

To live or die in accordance with natural law is a blessing bestowed by heaven. When one should live but cannot, or should die but refuses, it becomes heaven’s punishment. Human life and death are not determined by personal will but governed by celestial decree—even wisdom cannot alter this. The Dao (the Way) operates profoundly and boundlessly, flowing naturally without external interference.

Neither heaven nor earth can defy the laws of the Dao’s movement; the wisdom of sages cannot disrupt the timing of heaven, and even ghosts and spirits cannot deceive celestial mandate. In facing life and death, one should: silently comprehend its principles, follow its natural course, maintain inner tranquility, and peacefully accept fate’s arrangement. As Zhuangzi said, what comes naturally arrives in its time, and what departs naturally leaves in its time. By abiding in the flow of circumstance and harmonizing with change, one remains unburdened by joy or sorrow.

The latter part references the story of Ji Liang, a friend of Yang Zhu (a Daoist thinker of the Warring States period), who fell gravely ill and faced death. It illustrates that in confronting life’s end, one should adopt this attitude of natural acceptance. The entire passage emphasizes that life and death follow destiny, and humans ought to meet natural law with equanimity—neither forcibly resisting nor excessively clinging.

When Yang Zhu saw Ji Liang's son fall ill, he circled the child weeping. Ji Liang said to him: "My son is gravely sick—why don't you sing to enlighten him?" So Yang Zhu sang: "Heaven doesn't recognize men, how can men know Heaven's will? Blessings aren't Heaven's gifts, misfortunes aren't man's doing. Neither you nor I understand—what could doctors or shamans know?" Yet the child remained uncomprehending.

Later, three physicians were summoned. The first, Dr. Jiao, diagnosed: "This illness stems from imbalance of hot and cold, disordered routines, irregular meals, excessive indulgence, and obsessive thoughts dissipating your Jing (essence). Neither Heaven nor ghosts are to blame—gradual regulation will bring recovery." Hearing this, Ji Liang declared: "A quack!" and had him expelled immediately.

The second, Dr. Yu, said: "This condition originated in the womb—poor nourishment during nursing made it chronic. Not a matter of days, but beyond cure." Yet Ji Liang responded: "A fine doctor!" and ordered meals prepared for him. The third, Dr. Lu, declared: "This illness concerns neither Heaven nor man nor spirits. Life has its own governor, the body its own principles—what use are medicines?" Ji Liang exclaimed: "A divine physician!" and rewarded him richly. Soon after, Ji Liang's illness resolved spontaneously.

Commentary explains: Yang Zhu's verse "Blessings aren't Heaven's gifts, misfortunes aren't man's doing" refers to fortune and calamity as natural phenomena. "Obsessive thoughts dissipating essence" indicates Shen (spirit) depletion through overthinking. "Poor nourishment during nursing" implies excessive breastfeeding. Dr. Jiao attributed illness to human factors, thus being dismissed as incompetent; Dr. Yu recognized congenital constitution, showing partial understanding; while Dr. Lu pointed to life's inscrutable natural laws, earning reverence as a sage. The spontaneous recovery proves medicine played no role.

The supplement states: Life doesn't endure because you value it, the body doesn't strengthen because you cherish it. Likewise, life doesn't shorten through neglect, nor the body weaken through abuse. Valuing brings no guarantee of survival, disregarding no certainty of death; care ensures no health, nor disregard assured sickness.

This passage elucidates the seemingly contradictory yet naturally harmonious principles governing all things in the world. Some phenomena appear opposite on the surface but are not truly so, for life and death, abundance and scarcity all arise spontaneously. While it may seem reasonable that those valued by society thrive while the neglected suffer, this apparent logic doesn't hold true. Longevity has no inherent connection with social status or material fortune—a notion that seems paradoxical yet aligns perfectly with the Dao of nature.

Yu Xiong (teacher of King Wen of Zhou) advised the king: "What nature makes long cannot be shortened by human effort, and what fate withholds cannot be obtained through calculation." This echoes Zhuangzi's observation that the wild duck's short legs and the crane's long legs are natural endowments beyond human alteration—we can only accord with nature's design.

Laozi told Guan Yin (a Daoist figure): "Who can fathom what Heaven truly disdains? Rather than speculating about celestial will and calculating gains, better to follow nature's course." This reflects Zhuangzi's teaching that Heavenly principles differ from human standards—why else would Yan Hui (Confucius' virtuous disciple) die young while the notorious robber Zhi lived long? Human judgments cannot comprehend celestial justice; releasing attachments proves wiser.

Yang Bu (a scholar of the Yang Zhu school) asked: "Why would brothers born in the same year with similar appearances differ in lifespan and status as markedly as father and son?" Yangzi replied: "The ancients declared this simply 'ming' (destiny). The world's workings remain obscure—who can penetrate the mysteries of coming and going? Those who trust destiny don't fret over longevity; those who accord with heavenly principle don't debate right and wrong; those preserving their original heart don't distinguish favorable from adverse circumstances; those following their true nature don't calculate safety and danger. The truly enlightened remain unattached to all things."

This passage explores concepts such as "destiny" (命), "principle" (理), "mind" (心), and "inherent nature" (性), noting that excessive attachment to these notions can lead one astray from their fundamental truth. The text states: What we call brothers are those similar in age, appearance, and ability, while fathers and sons represent relationships marked by stark differences in status and lifespan. When ancient people said "I once remembered," they were invariably quoting earlier wisdom. Though such sayings appear reasonable, people often believe them blindly without understanding their origins—this is the manifestation of "destiny."

The world's affairs are complex and interwoven, like the Han Dynasty records describing them as "continuous and unbroken." People frequently wish to act but cannot, or must act against their will—all governed by destiny. Those who truly comprehend destiny do not fret over lifespan; those who grasp natural laws do not obsess over right and wrong; those maintaining infant-like purity do not calculate gains and losses; those understanding heavenly mandate and inherent nature do not worry about safety or danger. Though concepts like "destiny," "principle," "mind," and "nature" seem credible, one should not rely on them entirely. Only by attaining the state of "genuine purity and sincere simplicity"—utterly free from distracting thoughts—can one transcend worldly distinctions like acceptance/rejection, joy/sorrow, and possible/impossible.

The Yellow Emperor's classics record: Those who attain the Dao (道) are like the dead when still, like machines when moving. They neither know why they are still nor why they are not; neither why they move nor why they do not. They neither alter their demeanor when observed nor maintain it when unobserved. Coming and going alone and unhindered—who could obstruct them?

"Still as death" resembles Zhuangzi's description of "corpse-like stillness"—the body like withered wood, the mind like dead ashes. "Moving like machinery" resembles shadows following forms, requiring external impetus to act, like the wooden puppets crafted by the ancient artisan Yanshi that moved through mechanical contrivances. Since their actions aren't self-willed, they remain indifferent to movement or stillness. Whether observed or not, their fundamental truth remains unchanged. Having forgotten all entanglements beyond their immediate perception, they come and go freely without constraint, achieving self-forgetfulness, transcending physical form, and wandering with the Creator of Things.

This passage describes four distinct groups of people and their patterns of interaction in worldly affairs. The first group consists of four types: "the timid" (Moqi), "the restless" (Danzhi), "the fearful" (Chanxuan), and "the impatient" (Biefu). Though they've coexisted for years, they remain mutually incomprehensible, each convinced of their own superior wisdom. "Moqi" denotes weak-willed individuals, "Danzhi" describes those in constant agitation, "Chanxuan" portrays anxious dispositions, while "Biefu" characterizes rash impulsiveness.

The second group comprises "the cunning" (Qiaoning), "the blunt" (Yuzhi), "the obstinate" (Nanzhuo), and "the sycophantic" (Bianpi). Despite prolonged association, they never exchange insights about navigating life, each believing their methods uniquely refined. "Nanzhuo" depicts those stubbornly unyielding in their ways.

In the third group, we find "the crafty" (Xiaoxia), "the showy" (Qinglu), "the impetuous" (Rangji), and "the confrontational" (Lingsui)—all self-proclaimed talents. "Xiaoxia" indicates slyness, "Qinglu" means ostentatious display, "Rangji" signifies hastiness, and "Lingsui" refers to aggressive questioning. Years of interaction yield no mutual understanding, with each considering themselves exceptionally gifted.

The fourth group presents contrasting temperaments: "the hesitant" (Mianyan), "the verbose" (Zhuiwei), "the bold" (Yonggan), and "the timid doubter" (Qieyi). "Mianyan" describes those shrinking from action, "Zhuiwei" denotes tedious rambling, while "Yonggan" and "Qieyi" represent courage and timidity respectively. Though long acquainted, they never correct one another, each convinced their conduct bears no fault.

Through these vivid character sketches, the text reveals humanity's chronic tendency toward self-righteous isolation and deficient communication. Like Zhuangzi's observation of "endless posturing in human affairs" (Yaoyi Qitai), it captures universal social dynamics where individuals orbit their own perceived excellence without true connection.

This passage explores the relationship between human behavior and destiny, offering insights on how to perceive success and failure.

The text first outlines five attitudes toward life: those who enjoy companionship easily get along with others; the stubborn find it hard to fit in; the powerful tend to act autocratically; the isolated become reckless; while those indifferent to each other find their own places. Though these manifestations differ, they all stem from natural dispositions and ultimately return to the arrangement of destiny.

The terms "guigui" (approximate) and "qiao" (similar) are then used to explain the nature of success and failure. What appears as success may not be genuine, nor is apparent failure necessarily real failure. People often become confused by superficial outcomes. Those who truly understand destiny neither panic over misfortune nor rejoice excessively at good fortune, maintaining equanimity in all circumstances.

The text emphasizes that life and death are fated, while wealth and poverty come in their due time. Complaining about short life shows ignorance of heavenly decree; lamenting poverty reveals poor timing. The wise should face death and poverty with composure. Though intelligent people weigh advantages and disadvantages while assessing human relationships, their outcomes often resemble those of the unreflective. The key lies in avoiding excessive calculation and preserving one's natural authenticity.

Finally, it points out that true enlightenment doesn't lie in deliberately pursuing preservation or avoiding loss, but in understanding both preservation and loss as natural processes. Rather than exhausting oneself with calculations, one should follow nature's course—this constitutes the proper attitude toward destiny.

When people are confused, the seemingly real illusions that arise may appear vague and indistinguishable on the surface, yet the underlying principle is perfectly clear—there was never any true obscurity to begin with. If one can maintain clear awareness amidst these deceptive semblances, then calamities become nothing to fear, and blessings nothing to rejoice over.

What people dread as misfortune is often external disaster, while what they pursue as good fortune usually stems from inner desires. In truth, misfortune and fortune are not inherently divided into external and internal—it is only through human preferences that this distinction arises, giving birth to fear and joy. The cyclical patterns of movement and stillness, of things accompanying and following one another, cannot be fully grasped by wisdom, so there is no need for excessive attachment.

It is like standing with one's back to a steep slope or walking toward a deep ravine—already perilous enough, but covering one's ears and eyes makes it even more dangerous. Yet if one understands that fate is determined by heaven and maintains equanimity, the danger ceases to feel threatening. This perspective differs from Mencius's saying, "Those who know fate do not stand beneath crumbling walls," precisely revealing the distinction between the words of sages and heterodox teachings.

Those who employ excessive cunning to calculate gains and losses end up with half and half; foolish people who make no such calculations also end up with half and half. The so-called "gaining half and losing half" means an equal distribution. Even the most calculating individuals have moments they cannot foresee, while the most foolish occasionally stumble upon gains. If one neither calculates nor deliberately avoids calculation, then neither gain nor loss exists, and thus one's innate nature remains whole and undiminished.

Yet the very concept of "preserving innate nature" is itself difficult to ascertain, just as "losing innate nature" is hard to determine—even "neither preserving nor losing" eludes certainty. Hence, we neither know what preservation is nor what loss is. Though the text earlier speaks of keeping innate nature undamaged, it concludes with "self-preservation, self-loss, self-destruction"—using provocative language to express that those who can preserve will preserve, those destined to lose will lose, and those indifferent to preservation or loss will naturally remain as they are.

(The passage then illustrates this principle with the story of Duke Jing of Qi) Duke Jing of Qi was touring Mount Niu when he gazed north toward the capital and wept, saying, "What a splendid state this is, so lush with vegetation and vibrant with life! Why must I leave this land and die? If ancient times knew no death, I could possess all this forever." His ministers Shi Kong and Liangqiu Ju also wept, saying, "We depend on Your Majesty's grace. Though we eat coarse food and ride broken-down carriages, we still do not wish to die—how much more must this be true for you, our sovereign?" Only Yanzi stood by laughing. The duke wiped his tears and asked Yanzi why he laughed...

This passage recounts a story from Duke Jing of Qi's travels. When the duke saw scenes of decline and felt sorrow, his ministers Kong and Ju joined him in weeping, but Yanzi (the renowned statesman of Qi) alone was laughing. The duke asked him why he laughed.

Yanzi replied: If wise rulers could reign forever, then Jiang Taigong and Duke Huan of Qi should still be ruling. If mighty rulers could reign forever, then Duke Zhuang and Duke Ling of Qi should still be in power. Had these former kings remained on the throne, Your Majesty would likely still be toiling in the fields wearing straw raincoats, worrying about daily survival—how could you have become ruler? Yet now you weep over this inevitable cycle of succession, showing lack of understanding. I laugh because I see an unenlightened ruler and fawning ministers. Hearing this, the ashamed duke punished himself with two cups of wine and likewise punished those two ministers.

The text uses "drip-drip" to depict decay, "coarse food" for poor meals, and "wooden cart" for crude vehicles—all mocking humanity's obsession with fleeting pleasures while failing to comprehend life's impermanence.

Next comes the story of Dongmen Wu of Wei: When his son died, he showed no grief. His steward asked why. Dongmen Wu said: "When I originally had no son, I wasn't sorrowful. Now that my son has died, it's just like before I had him—why grieve?" This demonstrates understanding that "gaining is accidental, while losing means returning to original truth."

Finally, the text observes how different professions face inevitable frustrations: farmers racing seasons meet disasters; merchants chasing profits face gains and losses; craftsmen mastering skills still know failure; officials pursuing power encounter rises and falls—all governed by fate. Farmers must follow seasons, merchants must seek profit, craftsmen must hone skills, officials must cling to power—these are their respective circumstances. Yet regardless of choice, ultimate outcomes remain subject to destiny's rule.

This passage comes from the sixth volume of Chongxu Zhide Zhenjing Yanzhai Kouyi (Oral Commentary on the Classic of Perfect Virtue of the Utmost Void by Yanzhai). It conveys that past karma (the causal force generated by actions) propels us, compelling people to act in certain ways beyond their full control. The phrase "cannot help oneself" (不容自已) refers to the difficulty in completely governing one's words and deeds, as they are influenced by accumulated causes and conditions from the past.

The Chongxu Zhide Zhenjing (Classic of Perfect Virtue of the Utmost Void) is an important Daoist scripture transmitted by Liezi, primarily expounding the essential principles of cultivating emptiness, stillness, and Wuwei (non-action). The Yanzhai Kouyi is a commentary by the Song Dynasty Daoist Lin Xiyi, which explains the profound meanings of the scripture in accessible language. This segment discusses the impact of karma in spiritual practice, reminding cultivators to maintain constant awareness of their arising thoughts and intentions.