《南華真經義海纂微》Vol. 100

Someone distinguished himself before the King of Song, and the king rewarded him with ten chariots. Relying on these ten chariots, he went to show off to Zhuangzi.

Zhuangzi said, “A poor family lived by the river and made their living weaving mats from mugwort. One day, their son dove into deep water and brought up a pearl worth a thousand pieces of gold. His father said to him, ‘Bring me a stone and smash the pearl. A pearl worth a thousand pieces of gold must be hidden in a ninefold abyss, beneath the jaw of a black dragon. You could only have found it while the dragon was asleep. If it had been awake, could you have kept your life? The dangers of the state of Song today are no less deep than a ninefold abyss, and the King of Song is no less fierce than a black dragon. You could only have obtained these chariots while the king was still unaware. If he wakes to what has happened, you will be chopped to pieces like meat.’”

Someone came on behalf of the King of Song to invite Zhuangzi to serve him. Zhuangzi replied to the messenger, “Have you ever seen an ox used in a sacrifice? It is dressed in embroidered robes and fed grain and beans. When it is led into the Grand Ancestral Temple for the sacrifice, even if it wants to become a free and unrestrained calf again, it can no longer do so.”

Guo Xiang’s commentary says: “To gain wealth and status, one must follow the wishes of the people. If someone relies on strange words and methods to seize an opportunity and sway a ruler, a wise ruler will not accept him. Therefore, when recommending someone, one must examine whether the people approve of him. Only by meeting the people’s expectations does one follow the proper way practiced by the sage kings of antiquity. Zhuangzi delighted in living freely, and so feared being bound, like an ox used in a sacrifice; he declined the invitation. When the skull heard that someone wanted to bring it back to life, it frowned in displeasure. Life and death each have their own conditions, and people each find contentment in the state they inhabit.”

Lü Huiqing’s commentary says: “Those in the world who take risks, seeking to win favor and fame, are like people who dive into an abyss to retrieve a pearl, even if they happen to escape disaster. This is something the Perfected Person worries over and pities. To show it off to others—is that not absurd? Zhuangzi transcended life and death, and even regarded death as a joy like ascending to a ruler’s throne. He therefore did not fear becoming an ox for the Grand Ancestral Temple. Yet ordinary people risk harming themselves for profit. This is how Zhuangzi dealt with the world.”

Yiduzizi’s commentary says: “Weaving mats from mugwort is an extremely lowly way to make a living. The poor man’s son dove into an abyss and obtained a pearl worth a thousand pieces of gold; he could only have done so while the black dragon was asleep. If the dragon had awoken, how could he have survived? How is your obtaining chariots bestowed by the King of Song any different? Zhuangzi also answered the messenger who invited him with the example of the sacrificial ox, showing that he did not wish to let wealth and rank burden his life.”

Bixu's commentary says: A man who makes his living weaving reed curtains comes upon a precious pearl. How is this different from gaining quail without ever plowing a field? He has merely been lucky that the Black Dragon was asleep, and even so, it was an extremely dangerous matter. Compare those who boast of owning ten chariots and forget the disaster that grinds the body to pieces with those who refuse the summons of the King of Chu and would rather seek their living freely, like a solitary calf. From this comparison, one can see who is worthy and who is foolish in their conduct.

Yuzhai (Lin Xiyi, a Song dynasty commentator on the Zhuangzi) says: "Jiaozhi" refers to those who are proud and self-satisfied and who treat others like children. A family weaves reeds into curtains, and one of them dives into the deep abyss and obtains a pearl, having come upon the Black Dragon (Lilong; a black dragon said to keep a pearl beneath its chin) while it was sleeping. This is a metaphor for people who pursue wealth and rank: all of them walk a perilous road. Had the dragon awakened, the calamity would surely have been grave. How could it be called a matter of "no consequence"? Not even the dregs would have been left. The later passage on the "sacrificial ox in the ancestral temple" carries the same meaning as Zhuangzi's wish "to be like a tortoise dragging its tail in the mud."

Another edition writes "weaving reeds" (葦簫) in place of "weaving silk" (緯簫), meaning gathering firewood in exchange for food, and Bixu's edition follows this reading. In this version, the man's son dives into the abyss to play in the water and obtains a pearl. It was never something he had hoped for, so he did not know it was a rare treasure, and the Black Dragon, when it awoke, paid it no mind. The father then wanted to try smashing the pearl open with a stone. This was deliberate intent, and he said that if the Black Dragon awoke, there would be the disaster of having one's body ground to pieces. Having luckily gained one life out of ten thousand deaths, could one enter the abyss again? This is a metaphor for those who seize what others cherish: their calamity will surely be severe. Even if they succeed while the other party is unaware, such luck will not come a second time. Regarding "what is there that is trifling?" (xi wei zhi you), some suspect that the character for "body" (軀) has dropped out after "trifling" (微), but this is not so in principle. These four characters are in fact a marvelous stroke of the brush, and Yuzhai's explanation is the apt one. As for the metaphor of the sacrificial ox, its meaning is clear and needs no further explanation.

When Zhuangzi was about to die, his disciples wished to give him a lavish burial. Zhuangzi said, "I take Heaven and Earth as my inner and outer coffins, the sun and moon as my pair of jade discs, the stars as my pearls and gems, and the ten thousand things as my funeral gifts. Are my burial furnishings not already complete? What could be added?" The disciples said, "We fear that the crows and kites will eat you, Master." Zhuangzi said, "Above ground, I would be eaten by crows and kites; below ground, I would be eaten by mole crickets and ants. To snatch from one side and give to the other—how partial! To use unfairness to seek fairness, that fairness will never be true fairness; to use what is unverified to seek verification, that verification will never be true verification. The clever are merely driven by external things, while only those who attain the realm of spirit illumination (shen) can truly verify the principles of things. That the clever fall short of the spirit-like has long been the case, yet the foolish rely on what they have seen and throw themselves into human affairs, so that their efforts remain only on the surface. Is that not truly sad?"

Guo Xiang's commentary says: To measure the ten thousand things by the "fairness" of one's own school or one's own self is not as good as letting the ten thousand things each reach their own balance. Those who do not follow the natural responses of things, but try to meet them with their own views, will surely fail to match them. One who is driven by one's own knowledge is driven in many ways, so how could one attain ease and freedom?

Letting all things follow their own nature and act spontaneously depends entirely on allowing their wondrous workings to unfold; only then can responsive attunement reach its utmost. In this way, whatever one encounters can be met appropriately.

What human intelligence and insight can reach extends only to forms and outward appearances. Attunement at its utmost, however, reaches far and near, into the hidden depths, allowing each thing to fulfill its own function and find its proper place. Though its workings arise from within, their effects spread among all things. If one relies on what one sees and clings to one’s own opinions, then even when trying to influence others, the effects remain only on the surface.

Lü’s commentary says: When one understands that Heaven, Earth, and the myriad things all come from the One and take the One as their source, then, while a person is alive, the myriad things serve as the means by which the body is formed; when the person dies, they become the means by which the body is sent off. This is no empty talk. A corpse being eaten by crows, eagles, mole crickets, and ants differs from being buried in the earth only in what happens to it. If someone insists on snatching the corpse from the animals, that is to cling to a one-sided view. Only by having no preference for one outcome over another can one avoid partiality and contention.

Treat things with an ordinary, unforced mind, and one can attain true evenness. Let things appear according to their circumstances, and one can respond to them appropriately. If one holds preconceived opinions, one makes distinctions and loses one’s ordinary mind; then one can neither truly respond nor treat things with true equality. Trying to force equality only makes equality impossible; trying to force a particular response does not guarantee an appropriate one.

It is like water: left undisturbed, its surface naturally becomes still. A skilled artisan takes the levelness of water as a model. Follow its levelness, and things become level; respond in keeping with the circumstances in which things appear, and the response will be fitting. People today know why they give or take away; that is merely clear-sightedness. Not knowing the reasons behind it is what is wondrous. The clear-sighted person can only act by exertion, while wondrous workings allow things to appear naturally. This is where clear-sightedness falls short of the wondrous. The ignorant do not understand what the wondrous is; they rely only on their own judgment to influence others, so their efforts remain on the surface. How could they return to the true nature of life?

Yi Du’s commentary says: When the ancient kings established funeral rites and prepared coffins, outer coffins, burial clothes, and coverings to conceal the body, they were simply giving full expression to the feelings of children toward their parents. They did not fail to know that a person’s Shen (spirit) returns to Heaven, the Jing (essence) and Po return to Earth, and the body, like a cicada’s cast-off shell, soon transforms into something else. But children feel compassion and cannot bear to part with their parents, so the ancient kings followed human feeling and established rites to give it limits and form.

Zhuangzi was not unaware of why the ancients established these rites. He put it this way because the rites of his time had become excessively elaborate, and people competed to provide lavish burials; such burials were no longer simply a way of fulfilling filial devotion. He therefore used forceful language to correct the practice, hoping to lead people back to the source and a return to simplicity. To take Heaven and Earth as one’s coffin and outer coffin also means that when a person is at peace with Heaven’s mandate, anything with form and appearance within the course of fate can be put to use. When the myriad things are all within oneself, there is nothing one needs to seek outside. The state in which the Perfected One dwells…

From the human point of view, the rites and laws established by the ancient kings still exist. Yet after a person dies, whether the body is left on the ground or buried beneath it, it will inevitably be eaten by crows and eagles, or by ants and maggots. This merely gives the body to one kind of creature instead of another, and in the end cannot help favoring one side. The sages cared about preserving the spirit and did not cling to preserving the body; this is why.

If the world is brought to order with an impartial attitude, it will settle of its own accord; there is no need deliberately to make it settle. If one responds to the world by following the signs inherent in things, the world will likewise receive a response of its own accord; there is no need deliberately to make things conform. In the world there is both what is level and what is uneven. When what is level emerges from what is uneven, nothing is beyond being brought into balance. Among things, some can be verified and some cannot. When what can be verified emerges from what cannot, nothing is beyond receiving a response.

Only when both balance and response are governed by the spirit can there be clear insight. Relying on discriminating judgment alone instead leaves one led around by things. The spirit belongs to the Way of Heaven; discriminating judgment belongs to the human way. Thus human discernment cannot surpass the spirit. Foolish people in the world rely on their own understanding and use discriminating judgment to investigate worldly affairs, but in doing so they lose their innate, natural capacity. They expend their efforts on external things and do not realize that the root lies within. Is this not lamentable?

Bixu’s Commentary: Wealthy people often use precious objects such as jade and pearls to adorn coffins. Now they also regard the sun, moon, and stars as such ornaments. Is this not an excessively elaborate way of arranging a funeral? Leaving the body to the crows and eagles, or to the ants and maggots, is to treat them equally. Taking the body from one group and handing it to another is favoritism. If one seeks to make all things equal through a one-sided view, how could they truly be equal? If one responds to the many changes through a one-sided view, how could one truly respond to all things? Discriminating judgment is what is called “clarity”; people who rely on such clarity are driven by external things. The spirit, by contrast, is deep, open, and unobstructed; nothing is beyond its response. Discriminating judgment has limits, while the deep and open spirit has none. This is what “clarity cannot surpass the spirit” means. Foolish people in the world rely on their own views, probe into the hidden thoughts of others, and seize external things for themselves. They work only on the outside and do not understand that they must return to the inner. This is precisely what gives the Perfected One cause for lament.

Yanzhai’s Commentary: This chapter criticizes the excesses of elaborate burials in its time. Taking the body away from the crows and eagles and handing it to the ants and maggots is favoring one side. The principles of all things are inherently equal. If I seek equality with a biased mind, the equality I claim will itself become unequal. The principles of things can all be verified one by one. If I try to verify them with a mind that cannot verify, then what could originally be verified will become impossible to verify. Things arise naturally, yet to insist that some force is directing them is to call what is mindless something that has a mind. This is how discriminating judgment often traps people. The spirit, by contrast, simply follows along with all things, allowing them to appear naturally and receive their responses naturally. “Clarity cannot surpass the spirit” means that human discernment cannot surpass the spirit.

The mind cannot surpass “Wuwei (non-action).” Yet foolish people rely on their own prejudices and impose them on others in pursuit of worldly reputation and status. It is truly lamentable.

In ancient times, people built tombs against hillsides without raising earthen mounds or planting trees. They made no air passage into the burial chamber and did not dig down to the underground springs; they simply sought to conceal the body. This shows that coffins and shrouds were plain, and burial goods were few. Later generations prized ostentation and extravagance. They had already made excessive use of treasures such as jade discs and pearls in life, and after death used them to adorn their coffins. They also buried numerous funerary objects and built grand passageways and tomb chambers. This hardly needs further elaboration. Perhaps those who had enjoyed high status and abundant comforts in life were bound, when it came to their funerals, to receive no less lavish treatment.

Consider the extravagant burials of antiquity, such as those at Tiger Hill and Mount Li. The tomb owners imagined their graves would endure for tens of millions of years, yet in the end they merely amassed wealth for great robbers. Today, the disciples of Nanhua—another name for the Zhuangzi—want to give their teacher a lavish burial. This is difficult to avoid as a matter of human feeling, but it still follows worldly custom. Thus Zhuangzi said with feeling, “I take Heaven and Earth as my coffin and outer coffin.” These words are truly far-reaching; no one in antiquity had put it this way. Yang Wangsun’s advocacy of burial without a coffin or clothes, and Liu Bolun’s habit of carrying a spade when he went out, ready to dig a grave and bury himself at any moment, both stem from this same idea.

Once people entrust their bodies to the earth, what is there to fear from crows, eagles, and ants? Human life originally comes from “nonbeing.” Lice and fleas arise on the body’s surface, while pinworms grow inside it; all of them exist because this body of mine exists. When a person dies, it is like a cicada shedding its old shell or a snake casting off its skin: the body is left behind, while the spirit goes wherever it will. Why, then, worry about crows, eagles, and ants?

The point of this passage is that visible form must be governed by something within it that cannot be seen. It moves when it wishes to move and stops when it wishes to stop. There is a reliable basis for this: what is called “verification,” an inward sign or confirmation. Things in the world may appear unequal on the surface: bodies differ in wealth and poverty, and in longevity and early death. But people’s Shen (spirit), their inner spirit, is the same. When Shen is used to regard the myriad things, nothing is unequal; when they are viewed through bodily form, they seem unequal.

“Verification” means that a question receives a response, and that what is affected can connect with what affects it. If you do not trust things, they will not respond to you. The body itself cannot provide this verification; it must be sought through Shen. To seek confirmation inwardly is to value the inner and look lightly upon the outer. If instead one seeks an inward sign from external things, true verification will not appear. Without such verification, things cannot be understood as equal.

Brightness—external cleverness and insight—can only limit a person’s actions and capacities. The verification of Shen, the inner spirit, has stillness as its substance and is inexhaustible. Thus brightness cannot surpass Shen.

When the True Person (one who has attained the Dao) discusses right and wrong, the aim is not only to correct the excesses of lavish burial in his own time. It is also to teach later scholars to value what is within rather than outward appearances, and to cultivate the spirit rather than the body. The signs ordinarily seen already reveal their underlying causes; spirit and body are only temporarily interdependent. One who truly reaches this state can become one with Heaven and Earth, while the sun, moon, and stars shine alongside them. Coffins, outer coffins, pearls, and jade are not matters worth excessive concern.

The Perfected Nanhua (Zhuangzi) and the Perfected Chongxu (Liezi) spread their teachings in response to their times, bringing the world toward peace and clarity. Their teachings have endured through the ages and benefited later generations. The purport of the Nanhua True Classic (the book of Zhuangzi) and the Chongxu True Classic (the book of Liezi) illuminates each other; they cannot simply be ranked as superior or inferior.

The opening of this classic records Liezi riding the wind, yet still depending on something. Later chapters also cite him repeatedly. Some have therefore asked: Zhuangzi’s talent ranged freely and his imagination was extraordinary, so why did he need to follow Liezi’s account? I have examined the reason. A person of virtue must have teachings, and those teachings express that person’s conduct. It is impossible for conduct to be the same while the teachings are entirely different. In probing the mysteries of principle, ancient and modern times are one. Whether one speaks plainly or through indirect metaphor, in the affirmative or the negative, the purpose is always to clarify the Dao.

Zhuangzi delighted in praising the merits of earlier sages. He quoted entire passages from Liezi to convey his own meaning in sixteen places. In the chapter on the “Dark Sea,” Liezi’s original text is quite brief, but Zhuangzi gives a particularly detailed account. Thus, at the ends of the chapters, one often sees Zhuangzi’s interpretation surpassing its source, with greater literary grace and imaginative force. Zhuangzi’s writing is enriched by Liezi, while Liezi is brought further into prominence through Zhuangzi’s interpretation. The earlier account of Liezi riding the wind yet still depending on something looks at outward events; the later selection of Liezi’s finest sayings shows an affinity of mind. The final chapter is named “Yukou,” showing that the quoted material has not been concealed and that the aims of the two books accord with one another.

This chapter, however, records few of Liezi’s words. Perhaps it marks the beginning of Guo Xiang’s textual deletions and revisions. It opens with Liezi accepting a gift of gruel and water, and warns him against moving others with extraordinary displays. Before long, though, his doorway is crowded with guests. This shows that he, too, failed to free people from dependence. Next comes the account of Huan and Di, who fight and die in anger, then transform into crows, Chinese toon, cypress, and other things, yielding to natural change and ultimately meeting a violent end. This is the Creator returning that person’s nature to him.

One who knows the Dao does not speak, just as the Way of Heaven proceeds in silence. One who knows yet insists on speaking has shallow understanding. Thus, the skill of killing dragons, once mastered, has no place to be applied; showing off one’s technique cannot prove that dragon-slaying is useful. And the more willingly a man licks another’s hemorrhoids, the more carts he receives. These stories are all meant as warnings…

Those who study to become officials originally do so to remedy the ills of the state. Relying on loyal and upright people to support the state, however, cannot remain empty talk. If one fails to awaken in time and instead incurs punishment through misguided actions, one should become all the more cautious. Examining the nine signs—the methods for observing and distinguishing people’s abilities—does not by itself establish whether someone is worthy or unworthy. When one’s allotted fate arrives, respect and arrogance also become clear. The world is in constant change, so claims that something must happen three times are unreliable. Even a person who possesses pearls may lose them nine times and in the end save only one. These examples show how many different situations arise in dealing with the world and responding to things: craving reputation and pursuing profit invite laziness and anxiety.

If one can use visible, tangible things to trace back to the realm where nothing had yet come into being, one can escape the burdens of worldly life. Whether one gives up the sacrificial ox and instead raises a calf orphaned and weak also depends on one’s sincerity and diligence in putting this teaching into practice.

The text closes with Zhuangzi’s death to show that an illusory body is not worth clinging to, for everything must eventually come to an end. His disciples feared that crows and kites would peck at his corpse, still viewing life and death through worldly eyes. Only the perfected person, one who has attained the Dao, forgets the body and lets change take its course, without clinging to either giving or taking away. When the workings of body, mind, and spirit become manifest, they confirm that the principle is sound. Perhaps this is how one transcends the worldly, returns to nature, and ascends into the realm of the Dao.