《沖虛至德真經四解》Vol. 16

Ji Liang, a friend of Yang Zhu, fell gravely ill. Over seven days, his condition deteriorated rapidly. His sons gathered weeping at his bedside, insisting on summoning physicians. Ji Liang said to Yang Zhu: "My sons show such lack of understanding—why don't you sing them a song to enlighten them?" Yang Zhu then sang: "What even Heaven cannot comprehend—how could mere mortals know? Blessings aren't Heaven's gifts, nor disasters man's own doing. Neither you nor I understand—what could physicians and shamans know?" This expressed that only he and Yang Zhu understood the principle that life and death follow their destined course—something beyond physicians' and shamans' comprehension.

Ji Liang's sons failed to grasp the meaning and summoned three physicians. The first, Jiao Shi, diagnosed: "Your illness stems from imbalance between cold and heat, deficiency and excess—rooted in dietary intemperance, sensual indulgence, and excessive worry. Neither Heaven's punishment nor ghostly mischief, though severe, it remains treatable." Ji Liang remarked: "A mediocre physician—quickly send him away." The second, Yu Shi, said: "Your prenatal qi (vital energy) was insufficient, while postnatal nourishment excessive. This illness didn't arise suddenly but accumulated over time—beyond cure." Ji Liang said: "A good physician—first serve him a meal."

[Note: "Prenatal qi" refers to the congenital vital energy received in the womb, while "postnatal nourishment" denotes nutritional intake during breastfeeding. Daoism holds that constitution derives from both innate endowment and postnatal cultivation.]

The third, Lu Shi, declared: "Your illness isn't Heaven's punishment, man's fault, nor ghostly mischief. From receiving bodily form, you've been governed by natural law. Human lifespan was predetermined by wuwei (non-action) cosmic principle. The ignorant remain perplexed—only the enlightened comprehend. What use are medicines to you?" Ji Liang praised: "This is a true divine physician!" After rewarding him richly, he saw him out.

[Note: "Wuwei cosmic principle" is a core Daoist concept denoting universal laws beyond human will. Through three diagnoses, this passage progressively demonstrates the limited role of human effort and medicine against predestined matters, ultimately elucidating the philosophy of conforming to nature.]

Ji Liang's illness healed on its own. Master Lu explained that this sickness originated from the heart-mind (Shen, referring to human consciousness), which can both accumulate merit and commit faults—it's like a vessel that reciprocates with the divine. The heart-mind governs the body, knowing all before physical form takes shape. When the heart-mind is deficient, the body manifests corresponding flaws. Once physical traits like height, appearance, or constitution are fixed, how can medicine alter them? Ji Liang recognized that a true divine physician heals by cultivating the heart-mind and nurturing virtue (De), allowing ailments to resolve naturally.

Fan's view held that excessive activity and transgressions are the roots of disease. Rather than seeking treatment after falling ill, it's wiser to heed advice and prevent illness beforehand. Yet some inexplicable maladies may improve without medication. While patients who can describe symptoms might have hope for cure, cases like Ji Liang's—where medicine proved powerless during his seven-day critical illness while his sons wept around him—reveal ordinary people's confusion facing mortality. When Ji Liang asked Yang Zhu, "Why don't you sing to enlighten my unfilial sons?", he sought to awaken his family through understanding life-death truths. Alas, worldly ignorance remains ultimately ineradicable—hence Ji Liang summoned three physicians.

Physician Jiao violated life's natural patterns with forceful treatments, qualifying only as a mediocre doctor. Physician Yu followed life's inherent nature (Xing) without interference, earning the title of good healer. But Physician Lu investigated life's primordial origin, recognizing a higher governing power beyond remedies like decoctions or acupuncture—this wasn't medical skill but divine comprehension, making Ji Liang deem him a "divine physician." Ancient cases of illnesses penetrating the heart-mind or reaching the "incurable regions" (gaohuang) were similarly judged untreatable by such sages who accepted this calmly—Master Lu embodied this wisdom.

Life doesn't endure due to nobility nor strengthen through pampering; neither does it perish early from low status nor weaken through neglect. The noble may die young while the humble live long; cherished bodies may stay frail while neglected ones thrive. This apparent paradox reflects nature's law—sometimes nobility brings longevity, low status hastens death; care fortifies while disregard enfeebles. Yet even this seeming logic falters, for life-death and fortune-misfortune are ultimately decreed by the Dao's natural order.

This scripture elucidates the Daoist core principle of "following natural spontaneity" through multiple allegorical narratives:

Yu Xiong (teacher of King Wen of Zhou) advised the king: "A person's stature neither grows taller by your preference nor shrinks by your dislike. Matters beyond human intellect should be accepted with natural flow. Just as we cannot shorten a crane's long legs nor lengthen a wild duck's short ones, all things possess their inherent measurements - even the most precise calculations cannot alter this natural order."

Laozi instructed Guan Yinzi: "Who can truly comprehend Heaven's preferences? Only sages understand celestial will. Rather than exhausting oneself speculating about heavenly intentions or calculating gains and losses, it's better to follow nature's course. Those who genuinely accord with the Dao remain undisturbed even by ghosts and spirits. Yet those constantly scheming about fortune and misfortune often entangle themselves in futile struggles against calamity."

The text emphasizes: "Those ignorant of the Great Dao (Dadao) always attempt to predict Heaven's will for personal gain, unaware that aligning with natural law is the true path. Human strength cannot defy celestial mandate, nor can this mandate be foreknown. Forced alterations only backfire, as laughable as attempting to manipulate life spans through human effort."

The Zhenghe era commentary notes: "Destiny follows its own patterns that not even Heaven fully comprehends. Dao cultivators should nurture their original spirit (Yuanshen), preserve authentic nature, and transform destiny through fundamental cultivation rather than exhausting themselves with superficial struggles."

This passage explains that human fortune and misfortune are not solely determined by heaven or human effort. Disasters and blessings are both consequences of corresponding actions—neither due to heavenly favoritism nor entirely within human control. Take, for example, the low-status profession of shamans and physicians: though they possess medical skills, human fate is governed by deeper principles that even the wisest cannot fully comprehend.

The text mentions three renowned physicians: Jiao Shi advocated treating illness by countering its symptoms ("opposing and correcting"), Yu Shi promoted harmonizing with the condition to regulate it ("following and adjusting"), while Lu Shi emphasized unifying the fundamental principles and delving into the root causes ("integrating the essence and contemplating deeply"). For instance:

• When illness arises from imbalances of cold and heat, or excess and deficiency, the cause lies within the person—this calls for Jiao Shi's method;
• When illness stems from congenital insufficiency of fetal Qi (vital energy) or excessive lactation, the cause is attributed to heavenly mandate—here, Yu Shi's approach of harmonizing adjustment is appropriate;
• When illness is neither due to heaven nor human action, with no discernible cause, it is considered fate—no medicine can effectively treat it. In such cases, Lu Shi's method of "integrating the essence" is most suitable, and such a physician may be called a divine healer.

Those who truly value life preserve their physical form to prolong it, while those who cherish their bodies avoid harming them through excessive care. Yet obsessive pursuit of external things inevitably endangers oneself, and constant anxiety in life damages both body and mind. Only those who do not deliberately seek longevity prove wiser than those excessively preoccupied with preserving life. For life neither endures longer because it is cherished, nor perishes sooner because it is neglected.

Similarly, the body neither grows stronger through excessive care nor weaker through neglect. Superficially, those who cherish life may die young, while those who disregard it may live long; those who protect their bodies may not gain strength, while those who neglect them may not weaken—these seemingly paradoxical phenomena are all manifestations of natural fate. As Yu Xiong (teacher of King Wen of Zhou) said: "What grows naturally cannot be increased or decreased by human effort." The classics state that the Dao (the Way) of heaven operates precisely in this manner.

(Note: "Fetal Qi" refers to the innate vital energy received in the womb; "lactation" symbolizes postnatal nourishment.)

This passage explores the profound principles of "natural law" (自然) and "destiny" (命运). The ancients believed that the workings of nature are unfathomable, and those who truly attain the Dao (道) do not deliberately defy heaven's will. Between human pursuits of profit and what heaven despises, who can truly comprehend the distinction? Attempting to fathom heaven's intentions or calculate gains and losses reveals the limitations of human wisdom. Those who claim to foresee the future merely grasp superficial aspects of the Dao, becoming instead the beginning of folly. The Dao operates silently—how could it be easily discerned? Thus, it is better to follow its natural course.

Yang Bu (brother of Yang Zhu) raised a question: Some people share similar age, speech, talents, and appearance—as close as brothers—yet differ vastly in lifespan, social status, reputation, and others' affection, as distinct as father and son. Master Lu explained: When external conditions resemble brothers but destinies diverge like parent and child, it precisely demonstrates fate's unpredictability.

Yangzi replied: The ancients long proclaimed that certain matters simply occur spontaneously—this is destiny. Natural law cannot be fully grasped through intellect alone. People muddle through life, bustling day after day—who truly understands the reasons? All this is destiny's arrangement.

Those who genuinely believe in destiny do not fret over lifespan (calculating longevity betrays true faith); those who trust cosmic principles (天理) make no distinction between right and wrong (insisting on judgments violates these principles); those who follow their original mind (本心) disregard favorable or adverse circumstances (focusing on these loses the mind's essence); those who embrace their innate nature (本性) remain untroubled by safety or danger (worrying about these obscures one's nature). Reaching this state, the very concepts of belief and disbelief dissolve.

One who truly comprehends this principle transcends worldly distinctions of gain/loss, sorrow/joy, action (有为) and non-action (无为). Master Lu added: Lifespan belongs to destiny, right/wrong to cosmic principles, favorable/adverse conditions to the original mind, and safety/danger to innate nature. The truly awakened trust destiny without measuring lifespan, adhere to cosmic principles without clinging to judgments, follow their original mind without minding circumstances, and embrace their nature without fearing peril.

This scripture discusses the highest state in Daoist pursuit—the condition of "Ultimate Dao" (Zhidao). The essential meaning is as follows:

Those who truly comprehend the Dao neither cling to belief nor disbelief. Having attained this state, they no longer struggle with what to pursue or avoid, nor are they troubled by emotions like joy or anger. Their actions and demeanor become completely spontaneous and effortless (Wuwei). This is what is called the "Ultimate Dao."

The text provides several examples illustrating natural principles: brothers may have different lifespans; people of similar backgrounds may differ in social status; individuals with equal talent may achieve varying reputations; the same appearance may attract some while repelling others. These are all manifestations of natural law that cannot be forced. Those who understand this principle maintain inner tranquility undisturbed by external changes.

Those who truly trust fate (Ming) don't concern themselves with longevity or brevity of life, recognizing no essential difference between Pengzu (the legendary immortal who lived eight hundred years) and those who die young. Those who comprehend the nature of things don't obsess over right and wrong, understanding both sage-king Yao and tyrant Jie as part of nature's course. Those who preserve their original mind don't distinguish between favorable and adverse circumstances; those content with their inherent nature don't deliberately seek safety or avoid danger.

Upon reaching this state, the distinction between "belief" and "disbelief" dissolves. Authenticity means unwavering stillness; integrity means wholeness without damage. Such individuals resemble the Dao-realized beings described in the Yellow Emperor's texts: sitting in stillness like the dead, moving like wooden puppets (acting in complete accordance with natural law). They neither alter their state due to others' opinions nor perform for external validation. They flow freely with circumstances, encountering no obstructions.

Just as wooden puppets move without conscious thought, the actions of Dao-realized individuals remain unaffected by emotions or deliberate intention, perfectly aligned with nature's rhythms.

Human appearance is merely the outward manifestation of spiritual activity—who can truly obstruct the inner spirit? Among brothers, seniority is established through speech; between father and son, hierarchy is clarified through words. Abilities, appearance, speech, and age are factors within one's control, whereas lifespan, social status, reputation, and others' affections depend on external conditions. People of the same age may have different lifespans; those voicing the same opinions may gain different reputations; individuals with equal talents may attain unequal status; those with similar appearances may receive varying degrees of favor. Internal factors are self-determined, while external ones remain fraught with uncertainty.

The principle of fate (ming) arises both naturally and through human influence, yet people often fail to articulate its origins. What we call fate remains unknowable in its natural formation and imperceptible in its human-shaped trajectory. It is obscure and ineffable, complex and indeterminate. Fate operates like the natural alternation of day and night—neither deliberately accumulated nor intentionally concealed. Who can truly fathom its mysteries? Thus, it is said fate defies prediction.

Confronted with disparities in lifespan, the wise remain unshaken in resolve. They cultivate body and nature while awaiting Heaven's decree—this is the Dao of establishing one's being. Those who truly trust fate do not fixate on longevity; only those who discern right from wrong can exhaustively investigate principles. Hence, the enlightened do not cling to distinctions of right and wrong. The human heart rejoices when compliant and rages when opposed—thus, those with tranquil minds remain indifferent to compliance or opposition. Human nature finds peace when fulfilled and peril when deprived—therefore, those aligned with their nature harbor no anxieties about safety or danger. "Trust" (xin) means abiding by the natural state. Yet excessive attachment to "trust" itself becomes a fetter. Only by transcending the dichotomy of trust and distrust can one reach the realm of ultimate authenticity.

The way of the Perfected Person (zhiren, one who has attained the Dao): In stillness, they resemble death—utterly motionless; in action, they operate like machinery—effortless and spontaneous. They neither know why they are still nor why they are not still—appearing motionless yet never stagnant; neither know why they act nor why they do not act—appearing active yet never scattered. They neither alter their demeanor when observed by the multitude nor shift their essence when unnoticed.

This passage describes various personality types and their respective ways of living in the world, along with the cognitive biases in their self-perception.

First, it depicts the state of ancient Daoist adepts who attained the Dao: When standing still, they resemble withered wood without movement; when in motion, they flow naturally like dragging dry branches. Whether dwelling or acting, they remain unattached to external things, their inner selves undisturbed by worldly changes. They roam freely through the four directions of heaven and earth, coming and going alone without constraints. This state is called "transcending material things to stand in solitary perfection" — maintaining one's essential nature beyond worldly attachments. Such individuals never act contrary to the great Dao, nor do they encounter obstacles in their path.

The text then outlines four distinct personality types:

The first type includes those who appear dull but are actually cunning, act impulsively yet procrastinate, and combine sluggishness with impatience. Though these four temperaments coexist in society, remaining strangers to each other year after year, each considers themselves profoundly wise.

The second category comprises smooth-talking flatterers, simple and guileless folk, obstinate traditionalists, and fawning sycophants. They live together yet never exchange insights about worldly conduct, each convinced of their own cleverness.

The third group consists of stubborn contrarians, emotionally demonstrative individuals, verbally clumsy speakers, and fault-finding critics. Though they interact for years, they never understand each other, yet all believe themselves exceptionally capable.

These portrayals reveal the common cognitive limitations in worldly life — each person inhabits their own subjective world, convinced their approach is most correct while remaining blind to others' strengths. In contrast, those who attain the Dao transcend these limitations, reaching a state of unimpeded freedom.

This passage describes several types of personalities and their respective attitudes toward life.

The text outlines four characteristic temperaments: The first type appears perpetually listless and dull-witted; the second procrastinates and is indecisive; the third acts with bold determination and vigor; while the fourth remains timid, suspicious, and closed-minded. Despite their stark differences, these four personality types coexist harmoniously in the world, never reproaching one another throughout the year, each convinced their own conduct is perfectly appropriate.

It then presents four approaches to life: some prefer following the crowd (duo ou, "multiple pairings"), others act autocratically (zi zhuan, "self-determination"), some skillfully wield power (cheng quan, "riding authority"), while a few stand resolutely independent (zhi li, "solitary establishment"). These individuals likewise coexist peacefully, never interfering with each other year after year, all believing they've adapted to circumstances.

The commentator Lu observes that the world manifests diverse personality expressions—cunning, glib-tongued, dull-witted, fawning, or bluntly honest. Though their manifestations differ, all originate from the arrangements of the Dao. Some attribute these differences to innate endowments, considering them fated and unchangeable. But those who truly understand the Dao know one can reshape oneself through cultivating the spirit (shen), preserving authenticity, transforming thought patterns, and adjusting behavior. While physical form may be influenced by innate factors, determined effort can alter destiny.

Finally, several classic personality types are noted: Mochi (dull and inflexible), Danzhi (direct in action), Chanxuan (sluggish in temperament), and Biefu (impetuous by nature)—all convinced of their own cleverness. There are also Qiaoning (crafty and deceitful), Yuzhi (honest and simple), Nanzhuo (unyielding and rigid), and Pianpi (pliant and accommodating)—each equally confident in their shrewdness. Xiaoyi (calculating and profound), Qinglu (utterly transparent), Jiji (stammering speech), and Lingsui (eloquent debate)—all firmly believing in their exceptional talents.

This scripture primarily discusses the relationship between human behavior and destiny, pointing out that although people manifest differently, all follow the patterns of the Dao (the Way).

Human behaviors vary widely: the lazy refuse to exert effort, the evasive lack eloquence, the brave always charge ahead, while the timid consistently hold back. Each person believes their conduct is faultless, yet in truth, all act according to their inherent nature. Those who follow the crowd blend with the multitude, while the domineering stand apart. The powerful rely on their influence, and the solitary live in seclusion. Everyone considers themselves responsive to circumstances, yet their reactions stem from their individual encounters.

These diverse manifestations originate from inner thoughts—because minds differ, outward expressions vary. This explains why people have distinct appearances and reputations. Though behaviors differ, all adhere to the Dao's principles, governed by destiny. Thus, everything ultimately returns to the Dao and fate.

Fan Shi further elaborates: People's aspirations diverge—some halt, some stray; their interests vary—some contradict, some align. Those who deem themselves profoundly wise spend years without understanding others' thoughts; those who consider their skills exquisite pass years without sharing methods; those who believe their talents exceptional remain years ignorant of others' insights; those who judge their conduct righteous go years without pointing out others' faults; those who assume they adapt to trends spend years oblivious to their peers. Though people manifest differently, they coexist in the world, appearing at ease—likely because all follow their inherent nature.

The passage "佹佹姑危成者俏成也" observes: What appears destined for success (qiaocheng) may not truly succeed; what seems fated to fail (qiaobai) may not genuinely fail. People often speak of "near-success" or "near-failure," yet in principle, no intermediate "near" state exists. Human confusion arises from being misled by superficial phenomena, unable to discern the true causes of success or failure. At the ambiguous boundary between apparent success and failure, clarity often eludes perception.

This passage from the Chongxu Zhide Zhenjing (Scripture of Perfect Virtue in the Void) discusses the transcendent attitude of Dao-realized individuals toward fortune, misfortune, success, and failure. Those who truly comprehend the principles of reality (the "illuminated ones") perceive events like viewing flowers through mist—vaguely discernible yet never fixating on superficial appearances. They remain unshaken by external calamities nor overly elated by internal blessings, understanding that fortune and misfortune inherently lack such distinctions, being but inevitable manifestations of the Dao's operation.

Ordinary people often attribute sudden misfortunes to external causes while crediting gradual blessings to personal merit. However, those awakened to the Dao recognize that the rise and fall, movement and stillness of all things follow natural patterns beyond complete human comprehension. What appears as success (qiao cheng) may not be true success, just as apparent failure (qiao bai) may not be true failure. Superficially, success and failure seem separated by a hair's breadth, yet in principle, they differ as vastly as heaven and earth. Ordinary individuals, confused by such illusions, often become entangled in the ambiguity between seeming success and failure.

The perfected person (daren), penetrating to the essence of things, perceives truth within chaos and thus remains unswayed by appearances. Facing success or failure, their fundamental mind remains undisturbed—neither alarmed by external disasters nor complacent in internal fortune. Their actions and stillness align with celestial timing, free from forced striving. This state transcends clever calculations, embodying true alignment with nature.

Those who abide in heavenly mandate (tianming) regard others and themselves without discrimination, thus avoiding emotional fluctuations like joy or anger. Harboring such distinctions is like walking blindfolded and deaf along a cliff's edge—even if one hasn't fallen yet, peril remains imminent. This illustrates how petty cleverness pales before natural accord. In the genuine state of forgetting both self and objects, neither auspiciousness nor adversity, regret nor resentment arises. Yet worldly people often insist on forcing outcomes while refusing to submit to destiny, thus perpetuating their suffering.

All things under heaven cycle endlessly—where there is flourishing, there must be decay; where there is rise, there must be fall. Success and failure, gain and loss, alternate like day and night, all being expressions of the Dao's movement. Understanding this principle liberates one from attachment to outcomes, attaining the effortless state of "neither fearing external calamity nor delighting in internal fortune."

This scripture explores the relationship between destiny and human effort, with its core philosophy emphasizing alignment with the natural Dao (the Way).

The text observes that when things appear destined for success, they may not necessarily succeed, and when failure seems inevitable, it may not materialize. This paradoxical state most easily confuses people. However, sages (those who have attained the Dao) can perceive the patterns behind all transformations, understand the predetermined cycles of prosperity and decline, transcend material desires, neither forcibly pursuing blessings nor deliberately avoiding misfortunes. All their actions follow the momentum of circumstances without imposing personal will. This represents true faith in destiny and the state of forgetting both self and external objects.

Regarding life, death, wealth, and poverty, the scripture considers these as natural laws predetermined by fate. If we deny destiny, then benevolent and wise individuals should invariably enjoy longevity while cruel and foolish ones should die young—yet reality contradicts this. If we deny fortune's role, then the diligent and thrifty should always prosper while the extravagant should remain poor—again, facts prove otherwise. When Confucius' disciple Zixia said "Life and death are matters of destiny; wealth and honor depend on Heaven," the term "Heaven" refers precisely to temporal fortune. Lamenting premature death demonstrates ignorance of destiny; complaining about poverty shows misunderstanding of fortune—both reveal a failure to comprehend natural principles.

Those with genuine De (Virtue/Power) neither fear death nor worry about poverty, because they understand how to align with destiny and accept circumstances. Fear arises from attachment to superficial appearances; confusion stems from ignorance of temporal conditions. Those who trust destiny can achieve the state of unity between self and cosmos, while those making distinctions struggle to comprehend the great Dao. Like a person walking with covered eyes and plugged ears—though unable to see or hear—they won't stumble due to external distractions. Though not yet fully enlightened about heavenly decree, this state remains superior to those obsessed with life/death distinctions or preoccupied with gain/loss calculations.

The conclusion emphasizes that "life and death follow destiny" means submission to natural law, while "poverty stems from fortune" acknowledges circumstances beyond personal control. True gentlemen understand that lifespan—whether long or short—belongs to heavenly decree, thus maintaining equanimity while awaiting destiny's unfolding.

This scripture expounds the wisdom of understanding fate and timing. The wise calculate gains and losses, gauging human affairs, yet their successes and failures remain evenly balanced; the unwise refrain from such calculations, yet their outcomes are similarly divided. This reveals that whether one calculates or not makes little difference in the result.

Those who truly comprehend fate do not lament premature death, just as those attuned to circumstance do not resent poverty. They regard life and death as naturally as day and night, viewing prosperity and adversity like the rotation of cold and heat. Those who exhaust themselves in constant calculation are actually farther from the Dao (the supreme truth in Daoism) than those who follow nature's course.

The text observes that worldly affairs contain both benefit and harm, principles manifest as both empty and substantial, and human hearts alternate between sincerity and deception—none of which can be fully grasped through mere cleverness. To assume intelligence guarantees success is naive; to believe foolishness ensures failure is overly pessimistic. The key lies in maintaining inner emptiness and stillness, allowing all things to unfold naturally, thereby drawing closer to one's authentic nature.

Commentator Fan summarizes: Fate can be followed but not defied; timing can be accommodated but not forced. Those who lament early death understand neither fate nor circumstance. Only the noble person comprehends fate and aligns with timing, thus regarding life and death as ordinary as day and night (facing mortality without fear), and viewing prosperity and adversity as natural as seasonal changes (enduring hardship without anxiety).

Commentator Lu further notes: Rather than exhausting one's spirit in calculations that yield only partial accuracy, it is better to relinquish scheming to preserve innate nature. Those who labor mentally actually misunderstand fate, while those who refrain from forced calculations come closer to the Dao. Therefore, one should abandon excessive strategizing and choose instead the attitude of following what is natural.

This passage recounts the story of Duke Jing of Qi being moved to melancholy during an outing to Mount Niu. Gazing upon his prosperous capital, the duke suddenly shed tears and lamented: "This splendid kingdom—I must leave it forever when I die! If death didn't exist in antiquity, I could possess all this eternally." His two favorite ministers, Shi Kong and Liang Qiu, joined in weeping, saying: "Even we lowly officials who eat coarse grain and ride inferior horses dread death—how much more should Your Majesty!"

Only Yanzi stood apart laughing. Wiping his tears, Duke Jing demanded an explanation. Yanzi replied: "If wise rulers could reign forever, then Lords Jiang Taigong and Huan of Qi would still be ruling now. If mighty sovereigns could escape death, then Dukes Zhuang and Ling would never have departed. Yet none of these former kings retained their thrones—for Your Majesty to weep over mortality now shows poor judgment (the ancients considered serene acceptance of life and death the mark of true virtue). More laughable still, I witness here an unenlightened ruler flanked by two sycophantic ministers—hence my mirth." Chastened, the duke punished himself with a cup of wine and penalized the two officials two cups each.

The commentary explains: Heaven and earth endure while human life is fleeting—rulers who imagine perpetual dominion deceive themselves. Like a thoroughbred glimpsed through a crack in the wall, existence flashes by in an instant, making Duke Jing's lament childish. Through this contrast, the dialogue illustrates how sages accept life's natural cycles with equanimity. With humor, Yanzi exposes the ruler's clinging to power, embodying the Daoist perspective of serene detachment toward mortality.

At Mount Niu, people failed to comprehend this truth—no wonder Yanzi (a statesman of Qi during the Spring and Autumn period) secretly mocked them.

In the state of Wei, there was a man named Dongmen Wu who did not grieve when his son died. His steward asked him, "You loved your son dearly, more than most in this world. Now that he has passed, why do you not mourn?" Dongmen Wu replied, "I was once as though I had no son. When I had none, I did not sorrow. Now that my son is gone, I have returned to that state. Why should I grieve?"

During the Zhenghe era (under Emperor Huizong of Song), someone remarked: Children and grandchildren never truly belong to you—they are merely temporary vessels entrusted by Heaven and Earth. Their coming cannot be refused, nor their departure detained. Thus, having children is no cause for excessive joy, nor losing them for excessive sorrow. How could those who do not understand the essence of life grasp this truth?

Farmers follow the seasons, merchants chase profit, artisans refine their craft, and officials pursue power—such is the nature of their circumstances. Yet farmers face droughts and floods, merchants experience gains and losses, artisans see their works succeed or fail, and officials encounter smooth or troubled careers—such is the arrangement of fate.

Lu Zhongxuan (a Tang dynasty Daoist) explained: Scholars, farmers, artisans, and merchants each pursue profit and power—these are within human control. But floods, droughts, success, and failure lie beyond human effort, and one must accept them as fate. When people encounter the inevitable, they attribute it to destiny, yet this stems from delusion by superficial appearances. Dongmen Wu was one who submitted to fate, but he did not truly understand it. If one realizes that life is bestowed by the Creator (the Dao), how could they place their fate entirely in the fluctuations of life and death? Those who truly comprehend fate act in accordance with Heaven’s will while still striving to their utmost.

The Zhenghe-era commentary held: Power is sought through human effort, but fate is determined by Heaven. The people of the world are none other than scholars, farmers, artisans, and merchants: seizing the farming season, pursuing profit, refining skills, and chasing rank—these are within human power. But droughts, floods, gains, losses, success, failure, and the rise and fall of official careers—these are not. Human effort ultimately cannot overcome Heaven’s will, and thus the Liezi concludes its discussion of "Effort and Fate" with this point.

Fan Yingyuan (a Song dynasty Daoist) added: "To follow" (赴) is a gentler "pursuit" (趣), and "to chase" (追) is a gentler "striving" (逐). Those who till the land and plant the five grains are called farmers, and so they must follow the seasons. Those who circulate goods and engage in trade are called merchants, and so they must chase profit. Artisans hone their craft in government workshops, and so they must refine their skills.

People casually discuss benevolence and righteousness at banquets, merely going with the flow and conforming to the trends of the times. Like those who labor day and night, their eyes see nothing beyond their immediate circumstances to change direction—all this is shaped by environmental conditions.

Yet more specifically, farmers face floods and droughts, merchants experience profits and losses, craftsmen encounter successes and failures, and scholars too meet with setbacks and hardships. These circumstances are not solely determined by temporal trends; they also contain the arrangements of fate (ming).

(Note: The Chongxu Zhide Zhenjing [Scripture of Perfect Virtue of the Empty and Profound] is an important Daoist classic attributed to Liezi. This passage uses the experiences of four professions to illustrate the relationship between "trends" (shi) and "fate" (ming). "Trends" refer to external environmental forces, while "fate" represents the deeper predetermined workings of heaven's mandate. Daoism teaches that practitioners must both adapt to temporal trends and penetrate the essential nature of fate.)