《南華真經義海纂微》Vol. 14

Chapter 15 of Essentials of the Profound Ocean of Meaning on the True Scripture of Southern Florescence, Fifth Named Section

Composed by Daoist priest Chu Boxiu of Wulin

Inner Chapter: “The Great Ancestral Teacher,” Section 2

The ancient True Person—one who embodied the Great Dao—acted in fitting ways yet did not form factions; he always seemed insufficient yet did not refuse what came to him. Living among the world he had edges and angles, yet was not stubborn; his mind was vast, empty, and still, yet not showy. His spirit was bright, as if pleased; yet he also seemed calm, as though compelled by necessity. His expression was gentle, as if welcoming me; his manner settled, as if settling my De. He looked stern, as if ill at ease with the world, yet was not bound by convention; lofty and remote, as if hard to approach; deep and prolonged, as if fond of silence; wordless, as if he had forgotten speech.

He took penal law as the root of governance, ritual as the aid for moving in society, wisdom for adapting to the times, and De as the standard to follow. Taking penal law as root means that when he applied punishment it was lenient and measured; taking ritual as aid means using it to accord with the world and walk among people; taking wisdom to suit the times means that handling affairs often arose from having no other choice; taking De as standard means going along with each thing’s own nature. It is like those who were already complete: following their natures they reached the hillocks, yet people took that for the fruit of diligent cultivation.

Guo Xiang’s commentary:

The True Person accords with all things yet does not form cliques. He lowers himself toward others yet nothing is beyond what he can bear; he always seems somewhat lacking. He often dwells at ease alone, yet does not rigidly cling to empty stillness; his mind is open and untroubled, and so he reaches fullness, flow, harmony, and ease—hence he seems joyful.

In movement, rest, walking, and stopping he always stays in what is necessarily right; he neither lets outer things harm him nor deliberately chases after anything. The utmost person originally has no harshness; he simply walks the same road as the world, so he looks stern as if at odds with society. Lofty and detached, he delights in himself, and therefore seems unfettered; deep and long, so he seems to love keeping silent.

Penal law is the root of order—not something I deliberately invented; ritual is the order the world follows on its own—not something I laid down; wisdom stirs with the times—not something I decide; De is the standard each thing follows on its own—not something I fabricate. Taking penal law as root is letting the way of governance work naturally: though there is killing, it remains mild; taking ritual as aid is going along with what the world already practices, so nothing fails to get through.

High and low take up from one another; their flow cannot be reversed. Large and small constrain one another—that is the shape necessity takes. Where all streams gather, in the place of the teacher of the multitude, one need only adapt wisdom to the moment and hand over what must happen to Heaven to handle.

Here “the hill” (qiu) points to the root-source of nature-and-life (xingming). Each thing rests content in its nature and leaves its De for itself to follow naturally—like those already complete who follow nature to the source. When the source is reached, the pattern of things is exhausted.

Lu’s commentary:

The True Person accords with all things yet does not form parties; great De looks like insufficiency…

Unbound by old forms, and not merely following predecessors’ ways. The ancient sages lamented: “The gourd-cup no longer resembles a gourd-cup.” (觚: an ancient wine vessel; here it means things have lost their proper standard.) The norm that the True Person upholds can stand on its own yet also shift with the changing world; it is not so rigid that it cannot flex and extend. His Dao fills heaven and earth in all directions, yet he does not cling to any particular thing; he dwells in the truth of the Dao.

Bing’s words were clear and striking; those who heard them were glad to accept them. Cui’s actions seemed to happen only when pressed. His expression showed outwardly and could embrace external things; his De rested calmly and did not lose itself. What people fear cannot be faced without awe, so at times he seemed stern, almost like the world, as if he could still be constrained by others; at other times he seemed vast and lofty, beyond constraint. He shut his mind and did not mingle with things outside, until he forgot what he had said. All of this describes only approximations of him; one cannot capture the True Person by sketching outward shapes.

A benevolent person, faced with killing, feels compassion from love; an unbenevolent person, faced with killing, feels satisfaction from aversion. The True Person has neither partial love nor hatred—when he carries out killing, can he not still be at ease and generous? Here his Dao shows through. “Restrain the self and return to ritual” (克己复礼)—then seeing, hearing, speaking, and acting all accord with ritual. Taking ritual as a support for action is like walking in the world with wings. Entering a realm beyond past and present, how could one still be bound by the age? Only when things appear do people respond with corresponding understanding; that is the unavoidable way of dealing with concrete affairs. De is like the track of a wheel, which one may follow forward; anyone with feet can walk it to the hills. A hill is where the ground rises in the middle; De occupies the center yet cannot but be lofty. All of the above is simply the use of one’s authentic nature—where is there deliberate effort or contrived action?

Lin’s commentary: The True Person accords with all things yet takes no side; his mind seems insufficient while his Dao towers above the myriad things. Laozi said, “Put yourself behind and you end up in front”—that is exactly the appearance of not taking the lead and not contending. “Yu” (与) means going along with nature and finding one’s own ease; “gu” (觚) means standing independently while still allowing others to enter within. Hence it is said that he is not rigidly obstinate. His Dao spreads out: though empty and still, it is not showy. When pleased, his expression is bright; the Cui lineage acts only when urged. He shows expression without hiding it, and inwardly keeps De in constant quiet. Because he shows outward expression, he seems stern and close to the world; because he inwardly keeps De, he is lofty and beyond being constrained. In the end he retreats and hides in depth, shuts his mind, forgets words, and reaches the utmost. One who takes the way of punishment as root carries out killing like the austerity of autumn and winter—the necessity of following affairs; even in killing, he can remain generous and at ease. Ritual is the outward form of De, used to…

Outwardly he may seem winged; inwardly he accords with the right moment, knows how to read the times, and acts along with nature. When something arises, he only comes forward to deal with it when he truly has no other choice. A qiu is raised ground; whoever can walk can reach the heights. Letting De follow the pattern of things works the same way. All of this describes how the True Person (zhenren)—one who embodies the Dao—shows up in the world and lives among people. He never really took such things to heart.

The Xiangdao commentary explains the True Person’s appearance and way of acting: he forms no factions and does not lean to any side; others cannot draw near or push him away on that account. He seems insufficient yet does not accept flattery; others cannot fix his rank high or low because of it. He is sharp-edged like a vessel yet not stubborn; his conduct is not slick, but he is not merely rigid either. His mind is empty without being showy; his words may lack ornament yet the substance is not erased. He seems cheerful and at ease, yet also as if compelled—responding only when pressed. He nourishes spirit and mind, treats others with mildness, stores essence within and lets spirit show outward; he moves with events, lets the power of De appear outside, without disturbing the inner calm. He is stern and lofty, unbroken in continuity; these three aspects all look like doing something, yet he does not cling to doing. He is quiet and sparing of words; what he says seems to stop when the utmost truth is touched. The way of the True Person finally comes down to not clinging to action or to speech—only taking penal law, ritual, wisdom, and De as the root.

The classic often uses mountains to stand for the Dao and mounds (qiu) for De—for example Mount Miaogushe, the mound of Yinbian, Mount Juci, and the Kunlun mound. The True Person practices the Dao without strain; people often think he must be painstaking and diligent. That is because they see the myriad things and suspect that heaven and earth must have toiled to carve and fashion them when creating them.

The Bixu commentary says: the True Person’s form and bearing do not form cliques; he can also be humble and mild, seeming plain and lowly without accepting praise; he has edges without obstinacy and an empty heart without flash. He is content and at ease, yet when affairs come he seems to respond only when he must—showing a broad, joyful mind and measured response to things. “Nourishing” and “accord” refer to his gentle countenance and way of teaching others; “stern” and “lofty” mean that to hear him is to feel awe and to look up to what is far; “unbroken continuity” is skill in gathering in, “quiet” is forgetting to speak. This is exactly where the way of the True Person is unfathomable and hard to recognize.

Penal law, ritual, wisdom, and De are tools needed to order the world, and each must be applied according to the times. If penal law is not tempered, governance goes wrong; if ritual is not upheld, teaching cannot spread; if judgment is unclear, affairs stall. Letting De follow ritual is how the Dao can be put into practice. “Raised ground is called a qiu”: people and things gather there; “having feet” means being able to walk. Whoever can walk can arrive. The True Person acts by wuwei and naturally fits heaven’s principle; the world sees him accomplish things and assumes he did them by deliberate effort.

Zhao’s commentary states: He can treat all things appropriately yet never forms cliques or factions; he is thorough in worldly conduct yet does not cling to others for support. When the inner life is full, one is not easily tempted by external things—this is what is meant by “seeming empty, yet in truth replete.” A gu (angular wine vessel) has corners and easily clashes with others; if it were so hard that it offered no give at all, it would cease to be a gu. The mind stays empty and still, without showy display; the bearing is broad yet not exaggerated. “Bingbing” (a relaxed, open countenance) and yet “cuiran” (a countenance that draws inward): outwardly easy and bright, the expression appears spacious; inwardly grave and weighty, he acts only when there is no alternative. Inner fullness brings joy that shows on the face; when receiving things from outside, the expression is calm and can shift with circumstances. In dealing with people, his virtue is even-tempered, yet he does not drift with the crowd. Outwardly stern, like an ordinary person of the world; inwardly he is not bound by vulgar sentiment. His mind is lofty and cannot be mastered by things; his intent is close-woven, as though he loved to keep silent, yet nothing can truly seal it shut. Silent, he forgets words, and affairs complete themselves naturally.

What is meant by “taking punishment as the substance, ritual as the wings, knowledge as timeliness, and virtue as the path to follow” is the manner of responding to the world when one has no choice: punishment as the foundation—when applying penalties, one must be clear-sighted, and strive to keep punishment in reserve so it need not be used; ritual as support—knowing how to harmonize in the world, yet harmony too must be bounded by ritual; employing wisdom in accord with the right moment, so movement and stillness never miss their time; virtue as the standard one follows.

Regarding “accompanying those with feet to the hill”—the hill is a mound, “those with feet” are people who walk; the one who goes with them in fact has no feet, but is lodged in a human form, appearing as eyes and ears. People see that he does not walk yet reaches the hill on his own, and truly believe he has feet.

Yi Zhai says: “He conforms to righteousness yet does not factionalize; he stands centered, neither leaning this way nor that.” The inner mind seems to lack something, yet he does not belittle himself on that account—this exactly continues the sense of “the corner of gu-like virtue.” A gu has corners yet is not stubbornly hard: there is the edge of virtue without the sharpness that wounds. “Zhang” is an expansive, unobstructed manner; what is called “empty” is appearing as though there were nothing at all, while inside there is substance—it is not mere ornament.

“Bingbing” looks like joy yet does not look pleased; “cui” carries the sense of gathering inward. In engaging the world, there is always the flavor of acting because one must. “Chu” is the look of full, joyful repletion; the light of life shows on the face, hence “advancing my color.” “Yu” is self-possession; “advancing my virtue” means resting in auspicious peace within oneself.

Seen from afar, he is stern like a worldly person; yet inwardly he truly has depth, restraint, and the aspect of acting only when compelled. “Aoran and not to be controlled” means he does not submit to the vulgar world and cannot be ruled by it. “Lian” means close-woven. “Loving to close” means he seems unwilling to speak: before speaking, as if he did not wish to; after speaking, as if he had said nothing—hence “manran, forgetting words.” These two lines mean the same.

“Taking punishment as the substance” means that though penalties are applied, the heart remains lenient and does not turn against one’s true nature; “taking ritual as the wings” means that in worldly action one follows conventional propriety. “Taking knowledge as timeliness” means that wisdom is used according to occasion—this is the sense of having no choice but to….

When handling affairs in the world, one follows the operation of Tian De (Heaven’s virtue—the way of nature) and does not force things deliberately. It is like climbing a hill: anyone who can walk with their feet can reach the top in the end; there is no need to insist that one must toil strenuously before one can stand on the summit.

What was said earlier describes the zhenren (true person): inwardly he is deep and remote, hard to measure. Here the text speaks only from outward signs. In action he accords with yi (rightness) yet does not form factions; he goes along with how things are yet does not play favorites. He seems to lack something yet does not hurry to grasp; he keeps himself low, and people honor him all the more. Ordinary people in the world usually band together in cliques and, when they feel something is missing, rush to seize it.

He has sharp edges yet does not cut others; he is clear and upright yet does not wound. Inwardly he is empty and bright, not showy; he is full yet seems like nothing. His bearing is open and at ease, as if he delights in helping others and letting things benefit—yet also as if he acts only when he must. This is because he has no private aim: he answers to events as they come. That is the genuine way of responding to affairs.

His inner store is ample; his face is mild and his joy shows naturally, so people are glad to draw near. His De (virtue/power) is steady and has a quiet pull; he treats others with care, and they are glad to be close. All of this depicts the fullness of his virtue and bearing, and his power to transform things. The word li (“severe” or “imposing”) in one manuscript appears as guang (“vast”) in Cui’s version: his measure of De is broad enough to hold the myriad things. Thus his vast height and breadth complete xing (natural endowment) by itself.

What he loves and what his heart intends stay hidden; the root is not displayed. At that level, the way of the zhenren can no longer be exhausted in words. Ritual, punishment, knowledge, and De were all tools the ancient kings used to order the world. As long as one follows nature, suits the people’s real needs, and acts in line with De, each can reach what is fitting. “To follow” (xun) here means to abide in it peacefully—not that one must sweat and strain to achieve it.

Chen Bixu’s commentary reads zhao wen ru hai as one phrase; Zhang Junfang’s edition takes the three hu after “joy in the world” as equivalent to ye (“indeed”), which also fits the context.

So when he likes something, his mind is single; when he dislikes something, his mind is single too. Whether single or not, both return to the same ground. Merge with that ground and you keep company with Heaven; fail to merge and you keep company with people. When Heaven and the human do not overcome each other, that is called the zhenren.

Death and life are only shifts of fate, like the alternation of day and night—matters of natural order. That there are things in which people cannot take part or cannot change is the constant lot of the ten thousand things. People treat Heaven as a father and still cherish their bodies; how much more should they cherish the lofty Dao (the Way)? They often think the ruler is above themselves and still are willing to give their lives for him; how much more for the true Dao?

When the spring dries up, fish are stranded together on the dry land; they puff breath on each other to stay damp and moisten one another with spit……

Rather than being like fish in a dried rut, moistening one another with foam to stay alive, it is better to forget one another in the great rivers and lakes and live at ease. Rather than praising Yao and condemning Jie, it is better to forget such distinctions altogether and move with the transformations of the Dao.

Guo Xiang’s commentary: By not holding fixed preconceptions and following things as they are, one does not cling to likes and dislikes, good and evil, and thus does not split reality into two sides. That things differ and each affirms itself is a human-made division; the True Person (zhenren), united with Heaven, can equalize self and other, you and I, so the mind opens and things no longer seem separate, and one can quietly comply with all things.

To understand life and death is the utmost in following Heaven’s mandate—not something forced or artificial. The True Person is at ease in daylight by day and at ease in darkness by night; treating life and death like the alternation of day and night, what could there be that cannot be accepted calmly? When people today meet what displeases them and brood in worry, that is merely worldly habit; it does not accord with reason.

“Outstanding” (zhuo) means coming into being alone, each thing generating itself. What humans rely on is Heaven; what Heaven nourishes each generates on its own. Humans take Heaven as father—even changes of day and night, cold and heat, they accept calmly and dare not resent; how much more should one comply with that outstanding, solitary transformation and that deep, subtle realm? The True Person is not someone who merely obeys orders from some “True Lord”; the True Person does not depend on externals but follows nature, and cannot go against the way of nature. Thus Guo Xiang uses the parable of fish in a dried rut: rather than pitying one another in scarcity, it is better to forget one another in abundance.

Praise and blame both arise from insufficiency. One who is truly full forgets the division between good and evil, transcends the distinction between life and death, and merges with transformation—how could such a person still care where Yao and Jie respectively stand?

Lyu Huiqing’s commentary: Viewed from what is the same, one does not see difference between this and that. Those who like something call it beautiful and good, and beauty and goodness arise from that; those who dislike it call it ugly and not good, and ugliness and not-good arise from that. Seen this way, liking and disliking are originally one matter.

What is called “sameness” is like water still and clear; what is called “difference” is like water rippling and flowing—yet it is still only water. Understanding this, one is not only at peace after things have settled. Things have sameness and difference: holding to sameness, one companions Heaven and retreats into depth; showing difference, one companions people and shares fortune and misfortune with the multitude.

What arrives without anyone deliberately making it happen is fate (ming); what occurs without anyone deliberately acting is Heaven (tian). Life and death alternate like night and dawn—this is from ming and tian. When people cannot have what they want, it is like each thing having its own nature; why should I grieve or rejoice over it?

If Heaven is taken as the source of one’s own life, and one still cherishes the body, how much more should one cherish Heaven as the truly outstanding father of life? If one only…

To understand “Zhuo” (that which transcends all things and stands as the fundamental root independent of heaven and earth) and to cherish it is to see that life holds nothing especially worth rejoicing over. People always suppose there is a ruler superior to themselves, yet they themselves cannot escape death—how much less can the authentic reality of all things? If one understands “Zhen” (the source of all things) and follows it, one sees that death is nothing that must be resisted.

When the spring of nature and life runs dry, people are stranded on the fabricated dry land of hypocrisy, moistening one another only with scattered drops of benevolence and righteousness. That is inferior to forgetting one another in the great river and lake of Dao practice (the way of aligning with the natural Dao), no longer even noticing birth, death, gathering, and scattering. Delighting in life and loathing death are merely human feelings; neither clinging to death nor clinging to life is the Dao. Praising Yao and condemning Jie are likewise only emotional distinctions. To know how to forget both praise and blame, yield to transformation along the Dao, and forget the logic of life and death is to see that they were never really different.

Lin Xiyi comments: The punishment, ritual, knowledge, and virtue spoken of here are all expressions of the true nature, which is why the text goes on to say that “liking” and “not liking” should be fused into one. Take unity as unity, and also take non-unity as unity; then unity and non-unity return to unity again. Heaven and humanity stand on the same level, with no high or low—how could unity and non-unity still compete with each other? The principle of life and death belongs to fate; the alternation of yin and yang is the constant pattern of nature. The true person follows what is natural: at day he rests in day, at night he rests in night; treating life and death as the shift between day and night, what could he not accept? Worry and attachment still lodged in the heart are only human emotion and do not accord with natural principle.

“Zhuo” is the ancestral root of heaven and earth; “Zhen” is the mother of the ten thousand things. The ten thousand things are born from heaven; since humans take heaven as father, they ought all the more to follow heaven and not dare to go against it—how much more the ancestral root of heaven and earth? If people think a ruler is superior to themselves yet still find their own death hard to bear, how much more the mother of the ten thousand things?

Fish in a dried-up pool keep one another alive by spitting foam—far inferior to forgetting one another in the rivers and lakes. This image stands for an age when the great Dao prevailed: each thing wandered freely in its own ease; chickens and dogs could be heard by one another, yet the people did not visit back and forth. In later ages the Dao scattered and simplicity split apart; people strained to practice benevolence and labored to practice righteousness, while fathers, sons, and brothers harbored private motives and deceived one another—only then did people begin to devise ways of governing. Praising Yao and condemning Jie, arguing without end—it is better to forget one another and comply with nature.

Chen Xiangdao comments: What is called “the One” is the root of the world—without form, standing alone, existing by itself. Heaven receiving it becomes clear, earth receiving it becomes tranquil, lords and kings receiving it can set the world straight. Therefore the ancients who obtained the Dao at first devoted themselves to returning to oneness, in the middle guarded oneness, and in the end returned to oneness. The true person, wherever he dwells, never leaves the One. The ten thousand things are originally one; they appear not-one only because of each thing’s private intent.

To grasp the principle that “all things return to the One,” one understands that the partial, self-serving intentions each thing harbors are nothing more than movements of mind. When mind returns to oneness, one walks with the Way of Heaven (Tiandao); when action turns away from this, one aligns only with ordinary people. Walking with the Way of Heaven without abandoning human affairs, and dwelling among ordinary people without forsaking the Way—then “returning to the One” and “not returning to the One” merge again into a single whole.

Night is the concealment of day; death is the opening of life. If one need not be fixated on the alternation of day and night, what is there to worry about in death and life? Therefore the perfected person (zhenren)—one who has embodied the great Dao—does not cling to life or death, and both life and death can follow their natural course. The reason people cannot return to oneness with all things is that they are bound by the particular dispositions of each thing.

People know to regard Heaven as father and the ruler as their superior, yet they do not know there is a Dao that transcends even this, and that they ought to cherish their true nature and guard it. The highest benevolence does not favor one person over another, yet enables all things to receive its grace; if one still relies on closeness and affection to sustain nurturing, that is not yet fully benevolent. The highest wisdom does not deliberately display cleverness; if one still praises or blames one another through personal feeling, that is not yet fully wise. Rivers and seas are vast and boundless and are often used as images of the great Dao; hence those who discourse on the Dao often take water as their analogy.

Bixu’s commentary: “De yu” means being companions to one another. People cannot bring likes and dislikes into one accord, nor can they equalize Heaven and humanity, self and other—these are all expressions of being constrained by the dispositions of things. They only know to honor and cherish the mandate of Heaven, but do not understand how to preserve the subtle Dao; they only know to be loyal to the ruler even unto death, but do not understand how to preserve the self and cultivate true nature. When fish leave the water, they can only moisten one another with foam and spittle; when they return to rivers and seas, they forget such distress. When people do not understand the principle, they mutually blame or praise; when they awaken to this Dao, they can dissolve themselves out of these distinctions.

Zhao’s commentary: Likes and dislikes are human discriminations: what one side likes, the other may dislike. Viewed from the divide between self and other, there are likes and dislikes, whereas the Way of Heaven itself has no likes or dislikes—only people generate them. Where is there any high or low, victory or defeat? The alternation of day and night is the operation of the Way of Heaven; the alternation of death and life is the transformation of fate. To penetrate the principle of day and night’s cycle is to understand death and life. Those who do not understand this will naturally cling to life and fear death. Children honor their father because they see the father as their support; but if they do not know to cherish the nature they have received, how can that be right? Ministers are loyal to the ruler even at the cost of life; but if they do not know to revere the inner true lord (their authentic nature), how can that be right? Fish on dry land long for water; people in chaotic times long for peace—these cannot escape the emotion of clinging to life and fearing death. Yet if fish return to rivers and seas and forget the distress of moistening one another with foam, and people return to the Way and forget mutual discrimination, then life and death are originally one principle—what is there to rejoice or fear?

Yan Zhai said: “The Dao is one—namely, the spontaneous working of nature. People’s likes and dislikes toward things differ, yet those differences never fall outside the scope of creation; so whether preferences align or clash, in the end they all return to the one Dao. When a person shares nature’s likes and dislikes, that is knowing Heaven (Tian) and keeping company with Heaven; when one treats likes and dislikes as mutually opposed, one only knows people and keeps company with humanity. The realized person (one who has embodied the Dao) does not cling to sameness or difference in liking and disliking, nor does he separate Heaven from humanity; he simply follows what is natural.

When fish are stranded on dry land, they moisten each other with foam—a image of people in the world acting and helping one another; when fish live in rivers and lakes, they forget each other—a image of embodying the Dao through Wuwei (non-action). The line that praises Yao and condemns Jie is precisely Zhuangzi’s distinctive insight. If one can forget both Jie and Yao, and let praise and blame drop from the mind, leaving everything to nature, that is truly dissolving distinctions through the Dao.

This discussion means that the realized person’s likes and dislikes arise from utmost fairness, so one may also say he has no likes and dislikes: to prefer is natural, and not to prefer is also natural; whether aligned or not, both resolve into the same. Keeping company with Heaven takes nature as root, and nothing fails to return to oneness; keeping company with people is distinction born from events, and cannot be purely one. Seen from the Dao, “one” and “not one” both unite in the Dao. Heaven is not the human, and the human is not Heaven; yet if there were no human, Heaven could not be fulfilled either—so what quarrel over rank between them?

Zhuangzi feared that people would fixate on surface differences and forget the deeper shared principle, so he again compared human life and death: birth and death are like night and day in Heaven. All who live between Heaven and Earth cannot escape birth and death; the reason people fail to understand this is only that worldly feeling blinds them. If feeling is gathered in and true nature is restored, so that Heaven and humanity merge as one, one can grasp the principle of birth and death: it is like the alternation of day and night—a constant state, not worth anxiety.

People regard Heaven as father and still revere it; how much more the self that stands alone in its authenticity? If a lord is above oneself, people will even die for him; how much more one’s own most real nature? This again points straight at the substance of the Dao (daoti), so that one understands: if one turns back and seeks the self that stands alone, utterly true and unfeigned, one will know that so-called birth and death are nothing but the arising and passing of a single thought, the coming and going of one breath of Qi (vital energy).

If this principle is not understood, the root of life is lost. It is like fish leaving the water and stranded on land, able only to moisten each other with foam—how can that compare with forgetting one another in the rivers and lakes?

Zhuangzi said of himself: “When I speak this way, I am still no different from praising Yao and condemning Jie; in that I have not yet forgotten each other, nor dissolved distinctions through the Dao.” He spoke thus, presumably to make people forget words and rely on…

Once the mind has become aligned with the Dao, one must also sweep away the traces left by this alignment and no longer cling to it.