《列子》Vol. 6

The "Strength and Destiny" chapter of the Liezi presents a dialogue between Human Strength (人力) and Heavenly Mandate (天命) to explore the relationship between human effort and predestined fate.

Human Strength boasts to Heavenly Mandate: "How are my achievements inferior to yours?" Heavenly Mandate retorts: "What contribution have you made to the myriad things that you dare compare yourself to me?" Human Strength lists its abilities: determining lifespan, circumstances, social status, and wealth. But Heavenly Mandate refutes with historical examples: Pengzu (the legendary figure who lived 800 years) lacked the wisdom of Yao and Shun yet enjoyed longevity; Yan Yuan (Confucius' most virtuous disciple) possessed outstanding talent but died young; Confucius himself with supreme virtue suffered hardship in Chen and Cai; the tyrannical King Zhou of Shang maintained his throne while the virtuous Jizha (prince of Wu) held no noble title; Tian Heng monopolized power in Qi while the virtuous brothers Boyi and Shuqi starved at Shouyang Mountain; the Ji family surpassed the virtuous Zhanqin (Liu Xiahui) in wealth. These cases demonstrate human effort's inability to explain why the wicked prosper while the virtuous suffer, why the worthy endure hardship while the unworthy flourish.

Reduced to silence, Human Strength admits having no decisive power over creation. Heavenly Mandate further explains: "What we call 'destiny' precisely means what lies beyond human control. Fate simply follows its natural course—long or short life, hardship or success, nobility or baseness, wealth or poverty—all emerge spontaneously, with none knowing their underlying reasons."

The chapter concludes by revealing its central tenet: all things are governed by destiny, beyond the alteration of human wisdom or strength. While this appears contradictory to the Yang Zhu chapter's advocacy of indulging desires, it actually exposes the complex phenomena of order and chaos, love and hatred in human affairs. Understanding this truth, sages refrain from forced judgments but rectify contemporary ills by upholding the Confucian ethical system (名教).

(Note: The historical figures and allusions mentioned—Pengzu, Yan Yuan, Jizha, etc.—are all renowned worthies or典故 from the pre-Qin period, used to illustrate phenomena unrelated to human effort. "名教" refers to the Confucian ethical framework.)

This passage, through the dialogue between Beigongzi and Ximenzi, exposes the vanity of worldly values. Beigongzi laments: "We live in the same era, yet people flock to you; we belong to the same clan, yet only you receive respect; our appearances are comparable, yet only you are loved; our words are similar, yet only yours are heeded; our actions identical, yet only you are trusted. Both serving as officials, you attain greater nobility; both farming, you reap more wealth; both trading, you gain greater profits. I wear coarse hemp garments (shuhe referring to rough short robes), eat unrefined grains (zili meaning roughly processed food), dwell in humble huts, and walk on foot; while you dress in embroidered silks, dine on fine rice and meat, reside in lofty halls, and ride in carriages. For years you've enjoyed domestic comforts while distancing me, treated me with arrogance at court, refusing to associate or travel with me. Do you truly consider your De (Virtue) superior to mine?"

Ximenzi replies: "I know not the actual circumstances, but while you meet constant obstacles, my affairs proceed smoothly—isn't this clear evidence of our differing measures of De? That you dare claim equality with me shows remarkable audacity." Beigongzi falls silent after this retort.

The dialogue satirizes society's superficial tendency to equate external success with moral worth. Through this parable, Liezi illustrates how worldly status and material conditions cannot measure a person's inner De. Obsession with such comparisons only leads to confusion. True wisdom lies in understanding that all things find their proper place—not allowing power to disturb one's fundamental nature, nor vanity to damage innate qualities.

On his way home, Beigongzi encountered Master Dongguo (a Daoist recluse). Noticing his hunched posture and ashamed expression, the master inquired what troubled him. Beigongzi recounted his humiliation by Ximenzi—though they shared similar background, age, and appearance, their social status and wealth differed vastly. Ximenzi had mocked him: "You meet obstacles at every turn while I enjoy smooth sailing—such is destiny!"

Master Dongguo sought out Ximenzi and admonished: "Your mockery went too far. What you call destiny's favor merely reflects talent, while I speak of deeper truths—Beigongzi possesses profound De (Virtue) but meager fortune, whereas you enjoy prosperity with shallow Virtue. Your success stems not from wisdom, nor his hardship from folly. These are Heaven's arrangements, beyond mortal control." Chastened, Ximenzi replied: "Say no more, Master. I dare not argue further."

Returning home, Beigongzi attained realization: his coarse cloth felt as warm as fox fur, bean meals tasted like fine grain, his thatched hut seemed a mansion, and a firewood cart rode like a royal carriage. Henceforth he dwelled in carefree contentment, indifferent to others' glory or shame. Hearing this, Master Dongguo marveled: "Beigongzi has awakened from his great dream! Rare indeed is one enlightened by a single phrase!" (The narrative continues with the story of Guan Zhong and Bao Shuya)

Guan Zhong and Bao Shuya were both natives of Yingshang who shared a profound friendship. At that time, the political situation in Qi was complex: Guan Zhong served Prince Jiu, while Bao Shuya assisted Prince Xiaobai (later known as Duke Huan of Qi). Within the Qi ruling family, fierce power struggles erupted between legitimate and collateral lines. Duke Xi of Qi particularly favored his nephew Gongsun Wuzhi, granting him privileges equal to the crown prince, which caused widespread concern among the people about potential turmoil.

Eventually, Gongsun Wuzhi indeed launched a rebellion, killing Duke Xiang of Qi and seizing power, only to be swiftly executed by the populace. With Qi temporarily rulerless, both Prince Jiu and Prince Xiaobai raced back to claim the throne. Guan Zhong led troops to intercept Xiaobai at Ju, shooting an arrow that struck Xiaobai's belt hook. Ultimately, Xiaobai arrived first and ascended the throne as the renowned Duke Huan of Qi.

After assuming power, Duke Huan pressured the state of Lu to execute Prince Jiu. Prince Jiu's advisor Zhao Hu committed suicide to follow his lord in death, while Guan Zhong chose to be imprisoned and extradited back to Qi. At this critical juncture, Bao Shuya advised Duke Huan: "Guan Zhong's talents are sufficient to govern the state." Though initially resentful over the assassination attempt, Duke Huan was persuaded by Bao Shuya's reasoning: "A wise ruler holds no personal grudges. Moreover, one who served his former master with loyalty will surely serve you faithfully. If you aspire to achieve hegemony, Guan Zhong is indispensable."

Convinced, Duke Huan arranged for Guan Zhong's return from Lu. Bao Shuya personally met him beyond the city walls, removing his shackles. The duke received Guan Zhong with grand ceremony, elevating his status above even the powerful Gao and Guo clans of Qi, while Bao Shuya willingly took a subordinate position. Later, Duke Huan honored Guan Zhong as "Uncle Zhong," entrusting him with state affairs and ultimately achieving overlordship.

Guan Zhong once reflected: "In our youth when Bao Shu and I partnered in business, I always took the larger share of profits, yet he never accused me of greed, knowing my genuine poverty. When my advice led to failures, he never called me foolish, understanding how circumstances vary." These words poignantly illustrate Bao Shuya's unwavering recognition and magnanimity toward Guan Zhong throughout their lives.

The passage recounts the profound friendship between Guan Zhong and Bao Shuya, as well as Duke Huan of Qi's (Xiaobai) wisdom in governance and talent selection.

Guan Zhong reflected that he had been dismissed three times from official posts, yet Bao Shuya never considered him incompetent, knowing he simply lacked the right opportunity. When he fled from battle three times, Bao Shuya didn’t see him as cowardly, understanding he had to care for his elderly mother. After the defeat of Prince Jiu (Duke Huan’s political rival), while their colleague Zhao Hu committed suicide to follow his lord in death, Guan Zhong endured imprisonment and humiliation—yet Bao Shuya never deemed him shameless, recognizing that he cared little for trivial matters and only sought to achieve great deeds. Guan Zhong sighed, "My parents gave me life, but Bao Shuya truly understood me." The world praised Bao Shuya for excelling in friendship and Duke Huan for his discernment in employing talent, yet these were not deliberate acts of virtue on their part.

The narrative then illustrates through three examples—Zhao Hu’s martyrdom, Bao Shuya’s recommendation, and Duke Huan’s appointment of his former enemy Guan Zhong—that what appear to be human choices are, in truth, the workings of an unseen natural order.

In the final section, when Guan Zhong fell gravely ill, Duke Huan consulted him on a successor. The duke first proposed Bao Shuya, but Guan Zhong objected, explaining: Bao Shuya is upright and incorruptible, but he cannot tolerate flaws and never forgets others’ mistakes. Governing in such a manner would both constrain the ruler and alienate the people, inevitably leading to his downfall. When Duke Huan asked who would be suitable, Guan Zhong recommended Xi Peng, describing him as one who, though holding high office, remained humble ("forgetting his status above"), ensuring his subordinates’ loyalty ("none below would betray"). Guan Zhong emphasized, however, that if no better candidate could be found, Xi Peng would merely suffice—implying even he was not an ideal choice.

Those who feel inferior to the Yellow Emperor (the ancient sage king) yet grieve for those beneath them (they regret their own Dao attainment falling short of sages, while pitying the common people who cannot reach their level—thus never abandoning anyone).

Those who transform others through De (Virtue/Power) are called sages (they guide people to harmonize with the Dao through teaching, without forceful control); those who aid others with material wealth are called worthies (the more they give, the richer they become). Those who lord their worth over others never win hearts (demanding perfection repels all things); those who remain humble despite their worth never fail to gain hearts (yielding to the natural flow, all things return to them).

In governing a state, one need not oversee every detail; in managing a household, one need not inspect every corner (the Dao operates naturally without surveillance—hence the saying, "Without feigning deafness and muteness, great affairs cannot be accomplished"). If forced to choose an assistant, Xi Peng (a virtuous minister of Qi during the Spring and Autumn period) would suffice (Guo Xiang comments: If the ruler micromanages, ministers become powerless—thus delegation is necessary. Yet even Xi Peng was not fully attuned to the Dao, merely passable).

From this perspective, Guan Zhong (Guan Yiwu) did not slight Bao Shuya out of malice—he had no choice; he did not favor Xi Peng intentionally—he had no alternative. Those treated generously at first may later be neglected; those neglected at first may later be honored. These shifts are not determined by personal will (all follow the natural order of Heaven).

Deng Xi (a sophist of Zheng, contemporary with Zichan) excelled in ambiguous rhetoric, crafting paradoxical arguments. During Zichan’s governance, he compiled the Bamboo Penal Code (laws inscribed on bamboo slips). After Zheng adopted it, he repeatedly obstructed Zichan’s policies, forcing Zichan to concede. Later, Zichan arrested and executed him (this account contradicts the Zuo Zhuan, which states Deng Xi was killed by Si Zhuan twenty years after Zichan’s death).

Thus, Zichan did not willingly adopt the Bamboo Penal Code—he had no choice; Deng Xi did not willingly yield to Zichan—he had no alternative; Zichan did not deliberately execute Deng Xi—he was compelled to. (This mirrors the earlier example of Guan Zhong.) Such is the decree of Heaven.

This passage explores the relationship between life, death, and destiny, asserting that human fortunes and misfortunes are all arranged by the natural Dao (the Way), beyond complete human control.

Some individuals, through accumulating De (Virtue/Power) through good deeds or encountering favorable circumstances, may achieve their aspirations and enjoy lifelong happiness. While this appears to be the result of personal effort, it is actually a blessing bestowed by nature. Similarly, those who meet their demise through wicked deeds or extreme poverty may seem to suffer self-inflicted consequences, yet this too manifests the natural order.

The text distinguishes four scenarios: dying when one should live (such as the untimely death of the wealthy) constitutes celestial punishment; living when one should die (such as the suffering poor who cannot find release in death) equally represents celestial punishment. Those whose life and death follow nature's course experience heavenly mandate, while those whose life and death defy nature's course also experience heavenly mandate.

Ultimately, it clarifies that the transformations of life and death are determined neither by external factors nor personal will—all are manifestations of destiny. Even the wisdom of sages cannot interfere with the operation of the Dao, for the Dao operates profoundly and boundlessly through spontaneous movement. Not even heaven and earth can contravene this natural principle. This embodies the core Daoist concept of "natural Wuwei (non-action)," emphasizing humanity's need to align with the celestial Dao rather than forcing unnatural actions.

This passage recounts the story of Ji Liang's illness, revealing Daoist perspectives on the fundamental nature of life.

Ji Liang fell gravely ill and remained bedridden for seven days. His children gathered around him weeping, 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?" Yang Zhu then sang: "When even Heaven doesn't know, how can man comprehend? Blessings don't come from Heaven, nor disasters from human deeds. You and I—do we truly understand? Those physicians and shamans—do they really know?" This verse conveys that life and death follow their own course, beyond the influence of doctors or shamans.

When the children failed to grasp this, they summoned three physicians. The first, Dr. Jiao, diagnosed the illness as resulting from irregular living habits and claimed it could be treated. Ji Liang dismissed him as "a mediocre physician." The second, Dr. Yu, said the illness originated in the womb and was incurable. Ji Liang praised him as "a good physician" and hosted him for a meal. The third, Dr. Lu, declared the illness unrelated to Heaven, man, or spirits—it was simply destiny, and medicine would prove useless. Ji Liang honored him as "a divine physician" and sent him away with rich gifts.

Eventually, Ji Liang recovered spontaneously. This illustrates life's inherent principles: existence doesn't endure because we value it, nor does the body grow strong because we cherish it; conversely, life isn't shortened by disregard, nor the body weakened by neglect. Sometimes excessive concern harms what we treasure, while apparent indifference may paradoxically preserve it.

This passage elucidates the Daoist understanding of fate and natural spontaneity. All things possess their inherent nature—life and death, nobility and baseness are not determined by external preferences or aversions. What may appear as contradictions actually follow intrinsic principles, as Yu Xiong (teacher of King Wen of Zhou) explained: "Things that grow naturally cannot be increased by external force, nor can natural decline be reduced by human intervention. Human wisdom cannot alter these natural patterns."

Laozi (Lao Dan) advised Guan Yinzi: "The preferences of Heaven are unfathomable. Rather than exhausting oneself speculating on celestial will or calculating gains and losses, it is better to follow nature's course. Those who deliberately pursue benefits and avoid harms often plunge themselves into greater conflicts."

Yang Zhu's younger brother Yang Bu raised a perplexity: "Why do brothers born in the same year differ as drastically in lifespan, social status, and reputation?" Yang Zhu replied that this is precisely what constitutes "ming" (destiny)—natural laws that defy rational explanation. Though the world may seem chaotic, all phenomena follow their destined trajectories.

The truly enlightened remain unattached to superficial distinctions—long or short lifespan, right or wrong judgments, favorable or adverse circumstances, safety or danger. When one transcends these relative concepts, neither blindly believing nor willfully denying them, one attains a state of authentic purity, naturally knowing when to advance or withdraw. This embodies the Daoist wisdom of "governing through non-action (Wuwei)," emphasizing the vital importance of aligning with nature's inherent patterns.

This passage elucidates the Daoist concept of "no-mind and non-action" (Wuwei), along with the principles of harmonious coexistence among people of different temperaments in the world.

First, it quotes the Yellow Emperor's classic, stating: Those who have attained the Dao (zhiren) appear as if dead when in stillness, and move like mechanical devices when in action. They neither understand why they should stay nor why they shouldn't; neither comprehend why they should act nor why they shouldn't. They don't alter their demeanor because of others' gazes, nor do they deliberately maintain appearances when unnoticed. Such individuals come and go alone, with nothing obstructing them, as they completely follow the natural coming and going of external things.

It then describes several contrasting personality types: the Mo-niao (rogues), Dan-zhi, Tan-xuan (broad-minded individuals), and Bie-fu (those who are either impatient or sluggish). Though these four types have opposite temperaments, they coexist harmoniously because each maintains their inherent nature.

The text further introduces four other distinct personality types: Qiao-ning (smooth talkers), Yu-zhi (simple and blunt), An-zhuo (rigid in manner), and Bian-pi (excessively deferential). Despite their stark differences, these individuals also live together peacefully, each believing their own wisdom or skill to be superior.

Finally, it mentions traits like Xiao-ya (those who conceal their true attitudes) and Qing-lu (those completely without pretense), illustrating the diverse range of temperaments existing in the world.

This passage describes four distinct types of people in worldly interactions and their misconceptions about success and failure.

First, it introduces four kinds of individuals: the first type speaks hastily and stammers; the second enjoys humiliating and scolding others; the third is slow to react and evades responsibility; the fourth combines traits of bravery, timidity, and hesitation. Though their temperaments differ, they all live according to their own inclinations, coexisting for years without reproaching one another, each convinced of their own competence.

Next, it describes another four types: the first excels at harmonious interactions; the second is domineering and self-assertive; the third skillfully wields power and influence; the fourth stands apart as an independent thinker. These individuals also live as they please, remaining unbothered by one another for years, each believing they have aligned with the trends of the times.

The text points out that while these behaviors appear different on the surface, they are all natural manifestations of the Dao (the Way), shaped by destiny. Those who seem successful are only superficially so—not truly successful; those who seem to fail are only superficially failing—not truly failing. People often become confused by appearances, unable to discern the essence of success and failure.

The truly wise understand that behind the illusion of success and failure, there is no absolute distinction. If one can see through this, they will neither be startled by external misfortunes nor overly delighted by internal blessings. For both fortune and misfortune are mysterious and unfathomable—disasters may seem to strike suddenly, blessings may seem to form gradually, yet all are simply the workings of the Dao. Human wisdom cannot fully grasp these transformations; one can only follow the currents of the time, moving when it is time to move and stopping when it is time to stop.

This passage from the Liezi expounds the wisdom of conforming to nature and transcending worldly gains and losses. The text observes that those who truly understand destiny make no distinction between self and others, thus remaining free from emotions like joy, anger, sorrow, or fear. To insist on such distinctions and obsess over gains and losses is like walking blindfolded and deaf on a steep slope—one is bound to stumble. This illustrates how petty cleverness pales before natural harmony.

Life and death are governed by fate (ming). If this principle were false, then benevolent and wise individuals would invariably live long, while cruel and foolish ones would die young—yet reality proves otherwise. Wealth and poverty depend on circumstance (shi). If this principle were false, the diligent and thrifty would always prosper, while the wasteful and lazy would remain poor—yet experience contradicts this. Those who lament early death fail to understand fate; those who resent poverty fail to grasp circumstance. Both reveal ignorance of nature's ways.

To face death without fear and endure poverty without distress—this is the wisdom of accepting fate and abiding by circumstance. The clever calculate advantages, weigh truths and falsehoods, and measure human relations, yet their gains and losses balance out. The dull-minded refrain from such calculations, yet their outcomes remain equally balanced. What difference does calculating make? Only by relinquishing calculation—neither deliberately scheming nor deliberately refraining—can one preserve innate nature (xing) without loss. Such preservation cannot be achieved through cleverness, nor is loss caused by misconduct. All unfolds spontaneously.

The passage concludes with the parable of Duke Jing of Qi: While touring Mount Niu, the duke gazed at his capital's splendor and suddenly wept, saying, "Must I leave this glorious kingdom when I die? If death had never existed, I would never depart!" His ministers Shi Kong and Liangqiu Ju joined in weeping. This story reveals how even rulers cannot escape the fear of death, underscoring the rarity of transcending life's attachments and harmonizing with nature's flow.

This passage presents two stories about attitudes toward life and death. The first recounts Duke Jing of Qi being moved by scenery to contemplate mortality during an outing, with statesman Yanzi offering counsel. The second describes Wei native Dongmen Wu's enlightened response to losing his son.

In the first tale, Duke Jing encounters coarse food remarking "even poor meat can be eaten," and sees a shabby carriage saying "even broken carts can be ridden," yet still fears death. Yanzi laughs alone nearby, prompting the Duke to question why he isn't weeping. Yanzi responds: If wise rulers could reign eternally, then Duke Tai and Duke Huan (former Qi rulers) would still govern. If mighty rulers could rule forever, then Duke Zhuang and Duke Ling would remain in power. Yet here you stand in straw raincoat surveying fields, preoccupied with harvests—when would you have time to ponder death? Precisely because rulership changes hands did you attain this position. Weeping over the inevitable cycle of life and death shows poor judgment. I laugh witnessing an unwise ruler and fawning ministers. Ashamed, the Duke penalizes himself with wine and punishes two tearful ministers.

The second story tells of Dongmen Wu from Wei who shows no grief after his son's death. When his steward questions this, Dongmen Wu replies: I felt no sorrow before having a son. Now my son has died, returning me to that original state—why should I grieve?

The conclusion observes: Farmers follow seasons, merchants chase profits, artisans hone skills, and officials seek power—this is circumstance. Yet farming faces droughts and floods, commerce knows gains and losses, craftsmanship meets success and failure, officialdom brings achievement and disappointment—such is the Dao's natural movement.