《列子》Vol. 6

The dialogue in the "Li Ming" chapter of the Liezi presents a philosophical debate between "Human Effort" and "Heaven's Decree":

Human Effort (representing conscious striving) boasted to Heaven's Decree (representing natural law): "How can your achievements compare to mine?" Heaven's Decree retorted: "What contribution have you made to the myriad things that you dare compare yourself to me?"

With full confidence, Human Effort listed its claims: "The longevity or brevity of human life, adversity or success, nobility or baseness, wealth or poverty—all these are within my control."

Heaven's Decree refuted this with historical examples:

• Pengzu (legendary sage who lived 800 years) was less wise than Yao and Shun, yet enjoyed exceptional longevity;
• Yan Hui (Confucius' most virtuous disciple) possessed outstanding talent but died at eighteen;
• Confucius himself, though morally superior to feudal lords, suffered hardship in Chen and Cai;
• The tyrannical King Zhou of Shang maintained his throne;
• Jizha (virtuous Wu statesman) held no official rank while Tian Heng (Qi usurper) dominated Qi;
• The virtuous brothers Boyi and Shuqi starved at Shouyang Mountain while the Ji clan (Lu powerholders) grew richer than the virtuous Zhan Qin (Liu Xiahui).

Heaven's Decree challenged: "If these were truly under your control, why grant longevity to some but not others? Why let sages suffer while tyrants prosper? Why make the worthy humble and fools honored? Why keep the good poor and the wicked rich?"

Reduced to silence, Human Effort conceded: "By your reasoning, I've indeed contributed nothing to the myriad things. Are you then the sovereign behind all these transformations?"

Heaven's Decree revealed the essential truth: "Since we call it 'Decree', how could there be any sovereign? I simply follow what is so—pushing what's straight and letting what's bent remain. Long or short lives, hardship or success—all arise from themselves." This passage illuminates the Daoist core of ziran (natural spontaneity) and wuwei (non-action), emphasizing that all transformations follow inherent patterns beyond human coercion.

Beigongzi said to Ximenzi: "We live in the same era, yet people only appreciate you. We come from the same lineage, yet people only respect you. Our appearances are comparable, yet people only favor you. We speak with similar eloquence, yet people only adopt your advice. Our conduct is alike, yet people only trust you."

"When we served in office together, you received important appointments. When we farmed together, your harvests were abundant. When we engaged in trade, your profits were greater. I wear coarse cloth, eat plain grains, dwell in thatched huts, and travel on foot. Yet you dress in embroidered silks, feast on delicacies, reside in towering mansions, and ride in carriages drawn by four horses."

"At home you ignore me; at court you treat me with arrogance. You refuse to associate with me and decline to accompany me on outings. This has continued for years. Do you truly believe your virtue (De) surpasses mine?"

Ximenzi replied: "I know not the precise reason. Your endeavors always meet obstacles while mine find success—is this not proof of destiny's unequal favor? That you insist on comparing yourself to me at every turn shows remarkable audacity."

Beigongzi, having no retort, departed in dejection.

Beigongzi encountered Dongguo Xiansheng (a wise man) on the road. Dongguo asked him: "Where are you coming back from? Why do you walk so slowly with such a shamefaced expression?" Beigongzi then recounted his troubles to him.

After hearing this, Dongguo said: "Let me help dispel this shame of yours. We shall go together to question Ximenzi (another character) for clarification." When they met Ximenzi, Dongguo confronted him: "Why have you humiliated Beigongzi in this manner? Explain your reasons."

Ximenzi replied: "Beigongzi keeps saying his family background, age, appearance, words and deeds are all similar to mine, yet our social status and wealth differ greatly. So I told him: 'I don't know the actual circumstances. But whenever you act, you meet obstacles, while my endeavors always succeed—isn't this proof of our differing capabilities? For you to insist we're similar shows extraordinary shamelessness.'"

Dongguo responded: "The thickness you speak of refers to differences in ability, but my meaning of thickness is different. Beigongzi possesses profound De (Virtue) yet suffers poor fate, while you enjoy good fortune but shallow De. Your success wasn't achieved through wisdom, nor are Beigongzi's difficulties caused by foolishness. These are matters of heavenly mandate, beyond human control. You take pride in your fortunate fate, while Beigongzi feels ashamed despite his virtuous character—both fail to comprehend this natural principle."

Hearing this, Ximenzi immediately said: "Say no more, Master! I dare not argue further." Beigongzi, having heard these words, returned home.

(This dialogue through three characters' interaction reveals the relationship between fate and virtue: external circumstances, whether favorable or adverse, stem from heavenly mandate rather than personal moral worth. Dongguo exposes the limitations of judging people by worldly success, advocating instead the importance of inner moral cultivation.)

He wore a coarse, short robe yet felt as warm as if wrapped in fox or badger fur. He ate a rough meal of beans yet savored it as though it were fine rice. He lived in a thatched hut yet felt the cool shade of a grand mansion. He rode in a humble cart made of firewood yet seemed to travel in a richly adorned carriage. Such a person lived at ease throughout his life, caring nothing whether honor or disgrace came from others or from himself.

When Master Dongguo heard this, he sighed: “The state of Master Beigong—Liezi—has lain dormant for a long time. One sentence was enough to awaken him, which shows how ready he was to understand!”

Guan Zhong, whose courtesy name was Yiwu, and Bao Shuya were close friends, and both served as officials in the state of Qi. Guan Zhong assisted Prince Jiu, while Bao Shuya served Prince Xiaobai. At the time, members of the Qi royal house were competing for favor, and the forces of the legitimate and secondary sons were evenly matched. The people feared that civil strife would break out. Later, Guan Zhong and Shao Hu fled to the state of Lu with Prince Jiu, while Bao Shuya fled to the state of Ju with Prince Xiaobai.

Before long, Gongsun Wuzhi launched a rebellion, leaving Qi without a ruler. The two princes raced to return and claim the throne. On the road from Ju, Guan Zhong fought Xiaobai’s forces and shot an arrow that struck the hook on Xiaobai’s belt. Xiaobai later succeeded to the throne as Duke Huan of Qi and compelled Lu to execute Prince Jiu. Shao Hu killed himself in loyalty to his lord, while Guan Zhong was imprisoned.

At this point, Bao Shuya said to Duke Huan of Qi, “Guan Zhong is highly capable and can govern the state.” Duke Huan replied, “He is my enemy. I want him killed.” Bao Shuya urged him, “I have heard that an enlightened ruler bears no personal grudges. Besides, a man who was loyal to his former lord will surely be loyal to his new ruler as well. If you wish to become hegemon among the feudal lords...”

No one but Guan Zhong (courtesy name Yiwu) will do. You must employ him with full authority!

Thus Duke Huan of Qi recalled Guan Zhong. When the state of Lu released him back to Qi, Bao Shuya personally met him beyond the city walls, removing his prisoner status. Duke Huan treated him with full ceremonial honors, elevating his rank above even the two most powerful aristocratic clans—the Gao and Guo families. Bao Shuya willingly took a subordinate position, entrusting him with the governance of the state and honoring him as "Uncle Zhong." Through this, Duke Huan achieved his hegemonic rule.

Guan Zhong once reflected: "In my youth I suffered extreme poverty. When Bao Shuya and I partnered in business, I always took the larger share of profits, yet he never accused me of greed—he knew my true hardship. When I mismanaged affairs for him, he didn't consider me foolish but understood the timing was unfavorable. Thrice I held office and thrice was dismissed by rulers, yet Bao never thought me incompetent—he knew I simply lacked opportunity. Thrice I went to war and thrice fled the battlefield, yet he never called me cowardly—he understood I had an aged mother to support. When Prince Jiu (my former lord) fell in battle and my colleague Zhao Hu died honorably, while I endured the shame of imprisonment, Bao never condemned me for lacking integrity—he knew I cared not for minor proprieties but only felt shame when merit and fame couldn't be established under Heaven. My parents gave me life, but Bao Shuya truly understood me!"

The world praises the friendship between Guan and Bao as the truest bond, and lauds Duke Huan (Xiaobai) for his wisdom in employing talent. Yet in truth, there exists no deliberate art of friendship, nor any calculated method of employing ability. What we call "no deliberate friendship" and "no deliberate employment of talent" refers to a higher order of friendship and a more profound way of utilizing ability.

This passage recounts a dialogue between Duke Huan of Qi (Xiao Bai) and his minister Guan Zhong (Guan Yiwu) regarding governance and personnel selection during the Spring and Autumn period. When Guan Zhong fell gravely ill, Duke Huan asked him who should succeed as prime minister.

Guan Zhong first dismissed Bao Shuya (Bao Shu) as a candidate. He acknowledged Bao Shu's integrity and uprightness, but criticized his harshness toward those he deemed inferior—never forgetting others' faults once discovered. Such a person governing the state would restrain the ruler above and oppose popular will below, quickly incurring the ruler's displeasure.

When Duke Huan pressed for alternatives, Guan Zhong recommended Xi Peng. He described Xi Peng as humble—neither claiming credit before superiors nor behaving arrogantly toward subordinates. Though Xi Peng felt unworthy to compare himself to the Yellow Emperor (the legendary sage-king), he compassionately understood those less capable than himself.

The concluding passage presents Guan Zhong's philosophy of leadership: Those who transform others through virtue (De) are sages; those who assist others materially are worthies. Assuming superiority based on ability wins no hearts, whereas approaching others with humble competence never fails to gain support.

This dialogue embodies the Daoist principle that "the soft overcomes the hard," emphasizing that leaders should cultivate humility and inclusiveness rather than fault-finding severity. Guan Zhong evaluated candidates not merely by ability, but by how their attitudes would impact political stability.

In governing a state, there are matters that need not be questioned; in managing a household, there are affairs that need not be scrutinized. If one must employ someone, then Xi Peng (a virtuous minister of Qi during the Spring and Autumn period) would be a suitable choice.

Guan Zhong (styled Yi Wu) did not deliberately slight Bao Shuya (his close friend) out of personal preference—circumstances compelled him to act this way. Nor did he particularly favor Xi Peng—he simply had no choice but to rely on him. Sometimes, those treated with great closeness at first may later grow distant, while those initially kept at a distance may eventually be entrusted with great responsibility. These shifts in intimacy and estrangement are not matters of personal will.

Deng Xi (a pioneer of Legalist thought during the Spring and Autumn period) excelled at crafting ambiguous arguments and formulating irrefutable propositions. During the administration of Zi Chan (chief minister of Zheng), Deng Xi composed the Bamboo Penal Code. After Zheng adopted this law, it repeatedly caused difficulties for Zi Chan’s governance, even forcing him to concede. Eventually, Zi Chan arrested and executed Deng Xi.

This illustrates that Zi Chan did not truly wish to use the Bamboo Penal Code—he was compelled by circumstances. Deng Xi did not truly overpower Zi Chan—the times briefly favored him. Zi Chan’s execution of Deng Xi was not an act of personal intent but a necessity.

To live when it is time to live is the gift of Heaven; to die when it is time to die is also the gift of Heaven. To refuse life when it is time to live is the punishment of Heaven; to refuse death when it is time to die is also the punishment of Heaven.

Life follows its own natural order: one lives when it is time to live, and dies when it is time to die.

Life and death are natural phenomena in human existence. Yet there are certain states of being that belong neither to the realm of survival nor to the inevitability of death, occupying instead a peculiar condition between these two poles.

The matter of life and death is determined neither by external forces nor by individual will—it is entirely the decree of Heaven's mandate (Tianming). Even the wisest among us can do nothing to alter this.

Thus it is said: The Dao (the Way) of Heaven operates in profound mystery, yet follows its own immutable principles; appearing chaotic and indistinct, it nevertheless moves according to inherent patterns. Neither Heaven nor Earth may transgress it, the wisdom of sages cannot interfere with it, and neither ghosts nor demons may deceive it. Silent and unassuming, the natural Dao accomplishes all things, maintaining perfect equilibrium and tranquility—it requires neither deliberate pursuit nor conscious avoidance.

When Ji Liang, a friend of Yang Zhu, fell ill and grew progressively worse over ten days, his children gathered weeping around him, insisting on summoning physicians. Ji Liang said to Yang Zhu: "My children show such lack of understanding—why don't you sing them a song to enlighten them?"

Thereupon Yang Zhu sang: "What even Heaven does not comprehend—how could mere mortals know? Blessings aren't bestowed by Heaven above, nor disasters wrought by human deeds. Whether it's you or me—who truly understands? Those physicians and spirit-mediums—do they really know?"

Failing to grasp the song's meaning, Ji Liang's children ultimately called three physicians—the first named Jiao, the second Yu, and the third Lu—to diagnose and treat their father's illness.

This story recounts how Ji Liang consulted three physicians about his illness. The first physician, Jiao Shi, diagnosed: "Your condition stems from imbalance between cold and heat, and disharmony between deficiency and excess in your body. The root causes are irregular diet, excessive indulgence in desires, and overthinking that dissipates your Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy). This isn't ordained by heaven nor caused by ghosts and spirits. Though the illness developed gradually, it can be treated with medicine." After hearing this, Ji Liang remarked: "This is just a mediocre physician—send him away quickly."

The second physician, Yu Shi, diagnosed: "You were constitutionally deficient from the womb, then overnourished during nursing. This illness didn't develop overnight—it has deep roots and will likely be difficult to cure." Ji Liang considered this and said: "This is a good physician—invite him to stay for a meal."

The third physician, Lu Shi, declared: "Your illness comes neither from heaven's decree, nor human actions, nor ghostly influence. From the moment life is received and form acquired, we're governed by natural laws and constrained by our own cognitive limitations. What use would medicine be to you?" Ji Liang marveled: "This is a true divine physician!" He rewarded him handsomely before sending him off. Soon after, Ji Liang's illness resolved on its own.

The final passage reveals a profound truth: Life doesn't endure because people value it, nor does the body grow strong because people cherish it. Similarly, life doesn't end prematurely because people disregard it, nor does the body weaken because people neglect it. Paradoxically, what seems like careful attention may not ensure survival, while apparent indifference may not lead to death; cherishing doesn't guarantee strength, nor does neglect necessarily cause weakness. This apparent contradiction isn't truly contradictory, because life, death, longevity and premature demise are ultimately governed by the natural order of the Dao.

(Here is a modern vernacular interpretation of the Liezi scripture)

Some people thrive because they are valued, while others suffer because they are disregarded; some receive generous treatment due to favor, while others endure neglect because they are slighted. On the surface, this may appear as fate's arrangement, but in truth, it is not. All these circumstances of life and death, honor and disgrace are ultimately created by people themselves.

Yu Xiong (teacher of King Wen of Zhou) said to King Wen: "What grows naturally cannot be increased by external force, and what is naturally deficient cannot be diminished by external effort. What can human calculations truly alter?" Laozi (Lao Dan) told Guan Yin (a Daoist figure): "Who can truly know why Heaven despises certain things?" Rather than speculating about Heaven's will or calculating gains and losses, it is better to follow the natural course of things.

Yang Bu (a Warring States period thinker) raised this question: Two people may be of similar age, comparable in speech and talent, and alike in appearance, yet their lifespans differ as greatly as father and son, their statuses vary as starkly as parent and child, their reputations contrast as sharply as elder and junior, and the love and hatred they receive diverge as completely as generations apart—this is truly perplexing.

Yangzi (Yang Zhu, a representative Daoist figure) replied: The ancients once said something I now record for you—when something happens without us knowing why, this is precisely fate. Nowadays, people muddle along in confusion, bustling about in busyness, sometimes acting and sometimes refraining. As time flows back and forth, who can truly comprehend the reasons behind it all? This is entirely the work of fate.

Those who genuinely believe in fate will not obsess over the length of their lifespan.

Those who trust in truth do not become entangled in right and wrong. Those who follow their own nature do not care whether circumstances are favorable or adverse. Those who are at ease with their nature do not worry about safety or danger, fortune or misfortune. Such people have reached a state in which they neither deliberately believe in anything nor deliberately refuse to believe. This is true purity! Once they have reached this state, why would they need to choose whether to stay or leave? Why would there be any distinction between sorrow and joy? Why would they need to agonize over what they should or should not do?

The Book of the Yellow Emperor says: “Those who have attained the Dao sit quietly as if dead, and move as if operated by a mechanism.” They do not know why they sit quietly, or why they should not; they do not know why they move, or why they should not. They do not change their words and conduct to suit the way others see them, nor deliberately remain as they are when no one is watching. Who could obstruct people so solitary and free, who go their own way?

Mo Chi, Shan Zhi, Chan Xuan, and Bi Fu traveled through the world together, each acting according to their own wishes. After years together, they still did not understand one another, and each thought their own wisdom profound. Qiao Ning, Yu Zhi, Yan Zhuo, and Bian Pi also traveled through the world together, each following their own wishes. After years together, they never discussed how to conduct themselves in the world, and each thought their own cleverness subtle. Xiao Ya, Qing Lu, Jian Ji, and Ling Sui traveled through the world together as well, each following their own wishes. After years together, they still did not understand one another, and each considered themselves exceptionally gifted.

Mian Mian Ting, Zhui Wei, Yong Gan, and Qie Yi lived in the world together, each in their own way. After years together, they never blamed one another, and each thought their own conduct beyond reproach. Duo Ou, Zi Zhuan, Cheng Quan, and Zhi Li traveled through the world together...

People all act according to their own will, going through entire years without glancing at one another, each convinced their timing is perfect. These are the common ways of the world. Though people's outward appearances differ, all conform to the patterns of the Dao (the Way) — this is the arrangement of destiny.

What appears as success is merely superficial success, not true success in essence. What appears as failure is merely superficial failure, not true failure in essence. Delusion often arises from appearances; confusion easily emerges between surface and substance. If one can see through appearances without being misled, they won't be frightened by external calamities nor overly delighted by internal blessings.

To move when the time is right, to stop when the time is right — this wisdom surpasses ordinary understanding. Those who truly trust destiny make no distinction between others and themselves. If one does distinguish between others and self, they might as well close their eyes and block their ears; even with their back to a cliff and face to a ravine, they wouldn't fall.

Thus it is said: Life and death are determined by destiny; wealth and poverty depend on circumstance. Those who lament short life don't understand destiny; those who complain of poverty don't understand circumstance. To face death without fear, to dwell in poverty without worry — this is the wisdom of aligning with destiny and accepting circumstance.

The clever ones exhaust themselves daily calculating gains and losses, speculating about truth and falsehood, analyzing human relationships — yet what they gain and lose amounts to much the same. Those less clever don't measure gains and losses, don't speculate about truth and falsehood, don't analyze human relationships — yet what they gain and lose also amounts to much the same.

The first passage expounds the philosophy of "measurement": What essential difference exists whether we measure, speculate about, or calculate things? What truly matters is transcending these deliberate acts of measurement. When a person neither deliberately measures nor deliberately avoids measuring, they maintain wholeness without losing their original nature. This state is neither consciously pursued wholeness nor consciously avoided loss, but rather the natural attainment of both completeness and dissolution.

The second passage recounts the story of Duke Jing of Qi: While touring Mount Niu, the Duke gazed north toward his capital and suddenly shed tears, lamenting: "What a magnificent state! Lush with vegetation, brimming with vitality. Why must I depart this land like a falling dewdrop to die? Had death never existed since ancient times, why would I ever leave this place?"

The third passage describes how his ministers Shi Kong and Liangqiu Ju joined in weeping: "By Your Majesty's grace, we eat coarse grains and common meats, riding in worn-out carriages drawn by inferior horses. Even we commoners dread death—how much more must you, our sovereign?"

The fourth passage shows Yanzi (the renowned statesman of Qi) laughing alone nearby. Wiping his tears, Duke Jing asked: "Today's outing moved me to sorrow, and my two ministers wept with me. Why do you alone laugh?" Yanzi replied: "If wise rulers could reign eternally, Grand Duke Jiang and Duke Huan would still rule; if mighty rulers could reign forever, Dukes Zhuang and Ling would never have departed. Had these former lords remained, you'd likely be wearing straw raincoats toiling in fields, consumed by daily hardships—where would you find leisure to ponder mortality?"

This passage tells several short stories about the twists and turns of life.

The first story says: if the position of ruler passes from one person to another in turn, then weeping when the previous ruler is replaced is a sign of a lack of benevolence. When I see an unbenevolent ruler and his flattering ministers, I can only laugh. Duke Jing of Qi felt deeply ashamed when he heard this, so he punished himself and each of the two ministers by having them drink two cups of wine.

The second story is about Dongmen Wu of Wei. His son died, but he did not grieve. His steward asked him, “You love your son so much. Now that he has died, why are you not sad?” Dongmen Wu replied, “When I had no son before, I was not sad. Now that my son has died, I am in the same state as when I had no son. What is there to be sad about?”

The final passage says that farmers work according to the seasons, merchants pursue profit, artisans study their craft, and officials seek power. These are all ordinary human concerns. Yet farmers face droughts and floods, merchants sometimes profit and sometimes lose, artisans’ work sometimes succeeds and sometimes fails, and officials’ careers sometimes go smoothly and sometimes run into setbacks. All of this is determined by fate.

(The “household steward” in the text means a steward; a “cup” refers to an ancient drinking vessel; and “success or setback” refers to whether an official’s career goes smoothly.)