《南華真經義海纂微》Vol. 46

To pursue nobility deliberately, to esteem moral integrity, to distance oneself from worldly life and set oneself apart, and to regard lofty talk and criticism of others as signs of refinement: this is what appeals to those who withdraw into the mountains, those at odds with the world, and those who, worn down by hardship, cast themselves into the depths.

To speak of benevolence and righteousness, loyalty and trustworthiness, respectfulness and frugality, and deference, and to treat these as self-cultivation: this is what appeals to scholars in a peaceful age, those who teach and guide others, and those who travel in search of learning.

To speak of establishing great achievements and earning great renown, to emphasize the rites governing ruler and minister and to order the hierarchy above and below, and to treat these as governance: this is what appeals to court scholars, those who honor the ruler and strengthen the state, and those who build their power and annex territory.

To withdraw to lakes and marshes, live in open and quiet places, fish and dwell at ease, and remain in Wuwei (non-action): this is what appeals to those who hide themselves by rivers and seas, those who flee the world, and those with leisure.

To blow and exhale, breathe in and out, expel stale Qi (vital energy) and draw in fresh Qi, then climb and hang like a bear and stretch the limbs like a bird, all in pursuit of longevity: this is what appeals to practitioners of Daoyin (breathing and bodily movements used to nourish the body), and to those who, like Pengzu, seek long life.

As for becoming noble naturally, without pursuing it deliberately; being cultivated without clinging to benevolence and righteousness; bringing order without seeking fame; living at ease without withdrawing to rivers and seas; and attaining longevity without practicing Daoyin: nothing is forgotten, and nothing is lacking. The mind is calm and unbounded, and many blessings arise of themselves. This is the Dao of Heaven and Earth and the De (Virtue/Power) of the sage. Thus it is said: stillness and detachment, silence and emptiness, and non-action are the constant way by which Heaven and Earth remain balanced; they are the essence of Dao and De.

Guo Xiang’s Commentary: The things these various people enjoy are all different. Let each follow their own preferences and take their own path: this may be called freedom and ease. Yet each is merely content in one place. How can this allow all things to grow as they will and find their proper place? To let all things fulfill their proper share without losing their nature, one should guide them without insisting on doing anything.

By forgetting attachment, one can possess; if one clings to possession, one cannot recover what has been lost. What is called “having” does not come from deliberately acquiring, but from possessing naturally through forgetting the pursuit of gain. If one forces oneself to act, one cannot reach the boundless; instead, all kinds of troubles arise.

All things grow naturally without deliberate action: this is the work of Heaven and Earth. The many actions are accomplished naturally without deliberate arrangement: this is the work of the sage. If one cannot be still and remain in Wuwei, the harmony of Heaven and Earth will be endangered, and their original simplicity will be lost.

Lü Huiqing’s Commentary: From deliberately pursuing refinement to practicing Daoyin in search of longevity…

All these practices depend on external things. They can neither truly forget everything nor truly possess everything. Only a tranquil mind is free from constraint by external things. Once one reaches a state of attachment to nothing, one is no longer driven by ideas such as deliberate striving, benevolence and righteousness, or fame and achievement; every kind of fine virtue gathers there of its own accord. By following this state, what people call nobility, cultivation, good governance, ease, and longevity all arrive without being sought.

The way Heaven and Earth operate and the Virtue of the sages are no more than this. From this we can see that tranquility, stillness, emptiness, and Wuwei (non-action) are the constant, balanced way of Heaven and Earth, and the essence of Dao and Virtue. If one clings neither to forgetting nor to possessing, one is not burdened by either being or nonbeing. This is Wuwei.

Lin Yidu’s commentary: Those who single-mindedly revere nobility do not necessarily understand cultivation; those who understand cultivation do not necessarily understand governance; those who understand governance may not be able to practice Wuwei; those who practice Wuwei may not live long; and those who seek longevity may not attain the state in which the body dies but the spirit does not perish. Each is limited by a particular preference, unlike the sage, whose Virtue is complete.

The sage does not deliberately seek nobility, yet is naturally noble. Without clinging to benevolence and righteousness, his cultivation is naturally profound. Without pursuing fame and achievement, his governance is naturally successful. He need not withdraw to rivers and lakes to find ease in his heart. Without relying on exercises for guiding and circulating Qi or on breathing techniques, he still lives long. He clings neither to forgetting nor to possessing. The “nonbeing” spoken of here is not literal emptiness, and “being” does not mean attachment to concrete existence. Thus the sage is calmly free of partiality, and many virtues naturally converge in him. The Virtue of Heaven and Earth is the same.

Tranquility and emptiness both arise from the Dao of Dao and Virtue. More specifically, tranquil stillness is the balanced state of Heaven and Earth, while emptiness and Wuwei are the essence of Dao and Virtue.

Chen Bixu’s commentary: Those who spoke lofty words and criticized the age included Xu You, Shanjuan, Boyi, and Shuqi. Those who lived austere, aloof lives and rejected the world included Bao Jiao and Jie Zitui, as well as Shentu Di and Biansui, who threw themselves into deep waters and died. Those who traveled to teach included Confucius, who lectured between the Zhu and Si rivers, and Zixia, who taught in Xihe. Those who established great achievements included Yi Yin and Lü Wang, as well as Guan Zhong and Shang Yang, who brought the feudal lords under their control. Those who lived in seclusion among mountains and marshes included Chaofu, Yan Guang, and Kuang Gong Yuexiu; the boy who tended horses, Ren Gongzi who fished, and the fisherman also belonged to this group. The methods of tending the body through blowing, breathing, and embryonic breathing were the Six Qi method; climbing like a bear and stretching like a bird to nourish the spirit were the Five Animal exercises.

Only by forgetting both being and nonbeing, and by being able to possess without clinging to what one has, can one reach the ultimate state: emptiness without attachment fills Heaven and Earth, and from it the myriad things arise; the sage’s heart holds no fixed views, and from it many virtues are fulfilled. Stillness is the balanced state of Heaven and Earth; emptiness and Wuwei are the essence of Dao and Virtue.

Lin Yanzhai’s Oral Commentary says: “‘Deliberate striving’ means applying oneself with strenuous effort and making purposeful action the highest goal. ‘Lofty discourse’ means resenting the age and railing against the world. ‘Withered austerity and solitude’ means a life of hardship and isolation. ‘Throwing oneself into deep waters’ means casting oneself into an abyss and dying.”

Entering the mountains comes from worrying that one has not yet withdrawn deeply enough. Cultivating one’s character and keeping oneself pure are ways of instructing others and becoming a teacher. These practices amount to striving for achievement in the world and benefiting others. Responding to what he had witnessed with his own eyes in his time, Zhuangzi advocated withdrawing from worldly affairs and rising above judgments of right and wrong. This differs from deliberately exalting oneself while condemning the ways of the world. “A bear climbs and a bird stretches” refers to climbing like a bear and stretching the body like a bird—that is, guiding and stretching exercises such as Hua Tuo’s “Five Animal Frolics.” To be able to forget everything and also possess everything is to practice Wuwei (non-action) and yet leave nothing undone: to hold no fixed attachment and take no fixed stance, while gathering many kinds of beauty within oneself and embodying all manner of goodness. The sage can do this because he has attained the natural way of Heaven and Earth. “The substance of the Dao” refers to the Dao as it is in its original state.

Chu Shi’s Guanjian says: The opening of this chapter describes the differing aims and pursuits of the sages of antiquity. From withering away in self-preservation to plunging into the depths, and from tending the body to prolonging life, the principles behind these approaches can all be discerned. But to reach great heights without deliberate pursuit, to live long without practicing guiding exercises, to be able both to forget and to possess, and to be calm, desireless, and unfathomable—this is the complete beauty of Heaven and Earth and the highest virtue of the sage. It is unlike those who cling to one side and believe themselves to have attained the Dao. For instance, Boyi was lofty and pure, while Liuxia Hui was accommodating; Confucius praised each of them as possessing one aspect of a sage. Confucius, by contrast, embraced them all and brought the achievements of the sages together. It is precisely because the sage can forget everything that he can possess everything. If he clings to possession, how could he reach the state of “forgetting”?

Alas, clay can be made into ten thousand kinds of vessel, yet no vessel can turn around and make clay. Because clay itself is not fixed in any one shape, it can take on every shape; because it is not any one particular thing, it can be made into all kinds of things. The virtue of Heaven and Earth and of the sage is just like this.

Thus it is said that when the sage’s mind is spacious and at ease, he becomes peaceful and natural; when peaceful and natural, he becomes quiet and free of desire. With peace and calm detachment, troubles cannot enter and malign forces cannot assail him. His De (Virtue/Power) is therefore whole, and his spirit remains unharmed. It is said, then, that in life the sage follows the movement of the Dao of Heaven, and in death goes along with the transformations of the myriad things. In stillness, his De accords with Yin; in action, he flows with Yang. He does not rush to seek good fortune, nor does he deliberately invite calamity. He responds when moved, acts when pressed, and rises only when he has no choice. He lets go of cleverness and preconceived judgments and follows the patterns of the Dao of Heaven. Thus he suffers no natural disasters, is not entangled by external things, incurs no blame from other people, and receives no punishment from ghosts and spirits.

The sage’s life is like drifting past; his death is like resting in peace. He does not deliberate or plan ahead. He is luminous without dazzling, and trustworthy without making prior agreements. He dreams not in sleep and has no worries when awake. His spirit is pure, and his body does not grow weary. With an inward emptiness, quietude, and calm detachment, he accords with the virtue of the Dao of Heaven. Thus it is said that sorrow and joy damage De, while delight and anger turn one away from the Great Way.

To go beyond likes and dislikes is a sign that one’s Virtue has been diminished. To feel neither sorrow nor joy within is for Virtue to reach its highest point.

Not being altered by external things is stillness at its utmost. Having nothing at odds with oneself is emptiness and stillness at their utmost. Having no dealings with external things is calm simplicity at its utmost. Having nothing that can make one act against what is fitting is purity at its utmost.

Guo Xiang’s commentary: Be content with calm simplicity and solitude, and rest in emptiness and Wuwei (non-action). Even when faced with danger and change, the heart can always remain peaceful and settled, without finding things difficult. Anxiety arises from deliberate action, and deliberate action often arises from anxiety. Thus, ease and calm simplicity sustain one another, allowing a person to accord naturally with what is right and to move along with the course of things. If one is neither peaceful nor calm, does this merely damage the body and spirit? Virtue, too, is lost within.

To follow the workings of the Dao is to act in response to natural change. To move with the transformations of all things is to be free of entanglements. Whether moving or still, one holds no deliberate intention, but lets Yin-Yang change and flow without taking the initiative. When something comes, one responds, arising in accordance with the circumstances. The natural order unfolds of itself and needs no human intervention. Thus calamity comes from going against the Dao, and entanglement from resisting the changes of all things.

There are many ways in which one may be like the people of the world, but one must be like those who find joy in themselves. Then, in life one will incur no blame, and in death one can rest in peace. The heart will be at ease, with nothing to regret. Entrust everything to the natural order, and respond when circumstances arise. The brightness inherent in all things under Heaven is not something I make shine; their inherent truthfulness is not something I demand of them. When the heart is entirely free of desire, the spirit does not grow weary, and one shares with Heaven and Earth in their calm, simple Virtue. The highest Virtue always brings ease; one’s feelings and intentions meet no obstruction. When the heart is still and unified, it does not change. If one can become open and clear, understanding completely, one will not be at odds with things in the slightest. Things come of themselves; a person whose calm simplicity has reached its utmost has no desire to engage with external things. If turbid desires are mixed in, things will no longer go smoothly.

Lü Huiqing’s commentary: The sage is at ease and content, and does not let the mind be governed by choices and preferences. Equanimity does not incline to one side; simplicity does not make things difficult. Calmly unaware, detached and without dealings with external things—this is all that is meant by solitude and Wuwei.

Anxiety and malign influences can take advantage of an opening because people use their intellect to know external things and engage with them, leaving an opening between themselves and those things. In life, follow the workings of the Dao and do not cling to “life”; when entering the world, do not rejoice. In death, follow the changes of all things and do not cling to “death”; in returning, do not resist. In stillness, join with Yin and do not feel that you are at rest; in action, flow with Yang and do not feel that you are acting. Do not rush to set either good fortune or calamity in motion, and neither will come about for that reason. For rushing to seek good fortune or setting calamity in motion is not a natural response to something that has been stirred… (The original text ends here unfinished.)

Act only when circumstances press the matter, and do not initiate anything lightly unless necessity requires it. This keeps one from falling into cunning schemes. People should act in accordance with the natural order: untouched by natural disasters and unburdened by external things, they will invite neither human criticism nor the punishment of spirits.

In life, one is as if floating through the world; in death, one rests in peace. The heart has no contrived feelings, and so remains still and quiet. When external things arrive, one responds naturally. Light shines from within without dazzling others; inner sincerity needs no covenant to bind it. In sleep there are no dreams, and in waking there are no worries: sleep and wakefulness are equally settled. The pure person harbors no private thoughts and feels no fatigue, because the heart does not strive to do anything. Those who possess “Heavenly De” (Virtue in accord with nature) are the very people the sages rely on to govern the world.

Grief and joy are difficult to eliminate entirely, and so they become distortions of De. Delight and anger arise and disappear abruptly, and so they bring failings in the Dao. These four emotions—grief, joy, delight, and anger—all arise from liking and disliking. Liking and disliking are inclinations already present in the heart before grief, joy, delight, and anger show themselves outwardly.

The human heart is in turmoil all day long and never stops; how could it be still even for a moment? The person of De is neither worried nor joyful, and reaches a state of single-mindedness that does not change: this is the utmost stillness. To meet things without resistance, like an empty boat that does not grow angry when another boat bumps into it, is the utmost emptiness. To have no dealings with external things is to have no taste: this is the utmost blandness. With this, even when entering water or fire, one can remain at ease wherever one goes. How could anything then oppose one? This is the utmost purity.

Yidu’s commentary: “The movement of Heaven” means following the course of the times. While alive, the sage rests peacefully in the circumstances of the present. “The transformation of things” means following the changes of things. When the sage dies, they rest peacefully amid transformation. Yin and Yang differ, yet share the same function of nurturing the myriad things. Stillness is therefore described through De, while movement is likened to waves. Good fortune is the response that follows appropriate conduct; calamity is the consequence brought on by inappropriate conduct. If right and wrong are not fixed by my own insistence, where could fortune and calamity arise? What is called right and wrong shifts and transforms along with the Dao.

Yet when touched, one responds; when pressed, one acts. One initiates action only when necessity requires it. To scheme in one’s heart about the order in which good fortune and calamity will arrive is cunning. To respond deliberately when nothing has touched one, or to act rashly when nothing has pressed one, is artificial contrivance. Cast off cunning and contrivance, and one can follow nature. Without natural disasters, one is not burdened by external things; without inviting human criticism, one incurs no punishment from spirits. To float in life and rest in death is to avoid clinging to likes and dislikes and to refrain from excessive thought. Without trouble, there is no need to plan ahead; with nothing to worry about, there is no need to prepare in advance. The heart neither flaunts its light nor is troubled by bewilderment and doubt. Without making agreements with others beforehand, one can instead possess deep sincerity. To sleep without dreams and wake without worry is to have one’s spirit whole. Purity without fatigue follows from this as well. Emptiness manifests as non-action, and quietude and simplicity manifest as stillness; through these, one can accord with the Way of Heaven.

From the perspective of the Dao of Heaven, sorrow, pleasure, joy, anger, liking, and dislike do not belong to a state of pure virtue. From the perspective of the human way, however, these six emotions are hard to avoid. Thus, not being stirred by sorrow or pleasure is the utmost virtue; this explains how indulging in pleasure can also lead one away from the right path. Not being changed by external things is the utmost stillness; this explains how joy and anger can cause one to lose balance. Not coming into conflict with external things is the utmost emptiness; this explains how likes and dislikes can lead to impropriety. The phrase “not engaging with things” also means not coming into conflict with them; “having nothing to resist” likewise means not engaging with external things. This, then, is the utmost purity.

Commentary by Bixu: Worry and distress disturb the heart’s peace, while the turmoil of social dealings invades a spirit that is calm and tranquil. How could a person of complete virtue be stained by the dust of worldly affairs? Birth is only a temporary arrival, the operation of the Dao of Heaven; death is only a temporary departure, a transformation among the myriad things. Neither adds to nor diminishes a person’s true nature. One whose being accords with Yin-Yang does not put himself ahead of all under Heaven. He has no intention to respond beforehand; only when touched does he respond. He has no intention to act; only when pressed does he act. He does not initiate things on his own; only when circumstances make it unavoidable does he arise to act. He follows the principles of Heaven without deceiving himself. He forgets the burdens imposed by external things and does not become proud on that account. Neither blamed by people nor punished by spirits, why would he regard life as something fleeting and death as an end? He follows the natural course of things and preserves his nature, restraining his radiance and concealing his sharpness. True sincerity needs no agreement; whether awake or dreaming, he is at ease, and his spirit is never wearied. Emptiness, stillness, calm, and tranquility bring one into accord with the De of Heaven. Those who cultivate virtue forget sorrow and pleasure; those who follow the Dao forget joy and anger. Those who lose themselves become trapped in likes and dislikes. Thus, the person of utmost virtue is inwardly deep and detached; the person of utmost stillness is unmoved by the changes of birth and extinction; the person of utmost emptiness does not come into conflict with external things; the person of utmost calm is far from worldly turmoil; and the person of utmost purity does not oppose external things.

Yanzhai’s explanation: Peace and calm are Wuwei (non-action); a spirit that suffers no depletion is complete in virtue. The Dao of Heaven operates, and one acts in accord with its principles. One regards bodily transformation as a cicada shedding its shell. Responding to the stimulus of external things, acting when pressed, and arising when circumstances make it unavoidable all describe meeting external things without private intent. Set aside personal contrivance and release attachment to the outward forms of things, and you can follow nature. Unimpeded and free as if floating, why deliberately deliberate and scheme? With inner radiance and outwardly concealed sharpness, one does not cling to external things, and the spirit remains whole and pure. When the hun and po souls are settled, they do not grow weary. Any sorrow, joy, likes, or dislikes is contrary to nature; when worry and pleasure no longer weigh on the heart, that is utmost virtue. Be single-minded without straying, and follow nature; even when in contact with external things, do not let them burden you. The original text ends with “It is called stillness and emptiness; it is called xin…” and appears to be incomplete.

“Purity” means the Virtue inherent in nature, expressed simply as it is.

“Tranquil and at ease” describes a state of harmony and contentment. When the mind is calm and free from agitation, sorrow and harmful thoughts cannot intrude. This is because one’s Virtue is whole and one’s spirit is undiminished. “The movement of Heaven” refers to the circulation of the One Qi—the vital energy that forms all things and drives their changes. “The transformation of things” refers to the dispersal of the One Qi. This is what it means to share Virtue with all things and flow along with them. If even the signs of good fortune cannot be deliberately brought about, how much less can the beginnings of calamity?

Responding when touched by external things happens because circumstances compel action: one answers them only because one has no choice. When the response arises without intention, one may act while inwardly remaining in Wuwei (non-action). Cast aside clever contrivances and fixed opinions, and you will neither scheme through ingenuity nor act with deliberate intent. Follow the patterns of Heaven, and you will accord with nature. Then natural disasters cannot arise, and external things cannot entangle you. Since you have wronged no one, how could you incur punishment from spirits? Thus, in life you can be at ease, and in death rest peacefully. Put an end to thought and planning, like jade that holds Virtue within or the seasons that follow their own order. Sleep without dreaming; wake without worry. With the spirit pure, why should the hun and po souls be wearied? This is called emptiness and serenity, and only then does one accord with the Virtue of nature.

The mind is like a target, and emotions like arrows. If many arrows are aimed at the same target, how can it avoid being struck? People today stand within range of the bow and arrows but make no effort to evade them, yet still expect their Virtue to remain whole and their spirit undiminished. That is very difficult.

So it is said: if the body is made to toil without rest, it will weaken; if the spirit is constantly expended, it will grow weary. Prolonged weariness leads to exhaustion. Water is clear when nothing is mixed into it, and still when it is undisturbed. But if it is trapped and stagnant, it cannot remain clear. This is an image of the Virtue of Heaven. Thus, to remain pure and unmixed, still and focused without wavering, serene and free of action, and to move in accord with nature’s course—this is how to nourish the spirit.

When someone acquires a sword from Gan and Yue, a renowned blade from those regions, they store it in a case and treasure it, not daring to use it lightly, for it is an exceptionally precious object. The spirit, by contrast, reaches in all directions and flows without end; there is nowhere it cannot go. It rises to the edge of Heaven, spreads across the earth, and brings all things to life, yet cannot be depicted in any concrete form. This state is called “being one with the Emperor,” meaning to accord with the Way of Heaven and Earth. The Way of pure simplicity is preserved only by guarding the spirit. Hold fast to it without losing it, and your self will become one with the spirit. When the spirit, focused and pure, reaches through all things, it accords with the constant patterns of the Way of Heaven.

An ancient saying goes: “Ordinary people value profit; the upright value reputation; the worthy esteem their aspirations; the sages cherish the spirit.” “Simplicity” means that nothing else is mixed in; “purity” means that the spirit is not diminished. One who embodies the Way of pure simplicity is called a True Person.

Guo Xiang’s commentary says: “Each thing has its proper state, which must not be lost. To follow the Virtue of Heaven is to act without intention.”

All things can come together without anything being out of place. This is to remain always within what is fitting, responding as things come together and doing nothing more.

To pursue external things and act in step with them is the way of ordinary people. Those who love precious swords still keep them sheathed in their cases; how much more precious is the spirit, and how could one dare to use it up carelessly? The sage takes the foundation of Heaven and Earth as his own and responds to the transformations of the myriad things, holding the spirit in the highest regard. His achievements between Heaven and Earth come from following the course of the Dao, not from recklessly exhausting his spirit. The things he nurtures and transforms have no fixed bounds. He accords with the way of the Heavenly Sovereign without deliberate action, always keeping to simplicity and abiding in utter stillness, undisturbed by external things. Thus he can unite with the Dao in obscurity.

Jing is the true nature of things, joined as one with Shen. This does not mean deliberately guarding the spirit or treating Jing as precious; it only appears, from the outside, as though one were cherishing and protecting it. If purity means remaining undiminished, then even when a hundred kinds of activity unfold at once and ten thousand transformations appear together, one can still be pure. If simplicity means not mixing in external things, then even when one displays the extraordinary bearing of a dragon or phoenix, one can still be simple. Conversely, if one fails to preserve one’s natural nature and instead mixes in outward adornment, then even wearing nothing more than dogskin or sheepskin cannot be called pure and simple.

Lü’s commentary by Lü Huiqing says: Look at the sage’s mind: empty and still, free of deliberate action, calm and detached, just as described above. Therefore, even when he works throughout the day, his spirit does not grow weary. This is what the ancients meant by “laying aside the mind and using the body” and “seeing and hearing without relying on the eyes and ears.”

People today bind their eyes and ears to sights and sounds, and let their minds and spirits be driven by desires to accept or reject. Their bodies labor without rest, their spirits are continually depleted, and in the end they wither and decline. This is only to be expected. Water’s nature is to be clear and still; this is simply how it is. One need only keep impurities from entering it and refrain from disturbing it. But if, knowing this, one seals the water away and prevents it from flowing, calling that “not disturbing it,” the water cannot remain clear.

The so-called De of Heaven—the virtue of following the Dao—is similar. It is pure and free of admixture, like clear water; quiet and single-minded, without arbitrary change, like still water; and it follows the course of the Dao, like flowing water. Sealing water away and stopping its flow is not the proper way to keep it undisturbed.

Among the world’s various methods of cultivation, some cling to emptiness and stillness but do not know to observe the return of things as the myriad things arise, or to return to the root amid their countless transformations. This is because they do not understand the way of nourishing Shen. People assume that nourishing the body is enough to preserve life, but this falls far short of understanding how to nourish Shen.

A precious sword is kept in its case because it is sharp and highly useful. The human spirit reaches through Heaven and Earth; how could its power be limited to that of famous swords such as Ganjiang and the King of Yue’s sword?

This passage explains the principles of nourishing the spirit and guarding essence. Its name is the same as “Emperor”; how could its nobility be compared with that of a mere treasured sword? Yet people do not understand how to hone it through purity, preserve it through calm concentration, sustain it through Wuwei (non-action), or guide it by following the natural course of things. This is because they have not seen the distinction between what is precious and what is base. One need only protect the spirit by keeping it pure and simple. At first, in “guarding” it, there is still an “I” who guards and a “spirit” that is guarded. If one keeps guarding it without loss, the guardian and the guarded become one. “Order” means “principle”; when a person accords with the principle of Heaven, they simply return to Heaven. This is why the sage values essence. “Unadulterated” means free of impurities; “pure” means lacking nothing. Only a True Person—one who has cultivated the Dao to attain a state of truth—can achieve this.

The commentary by Yidu says: The body must not be overtaxed, and essence and Qi must not be overused. The body follows the commands of essence, and essence enters the spirit. Once one reaches the state of spirit, transformation is under one’s own control: one may be neither born nor die. What concern could there then be about tiring the body or using up essence and Qi? Clarity can wash things clean; stillness can serve as a standard. Water flows on without ceasing, by day and by night: this is its nature. One embodies the Virtue of nature without falling into the artificiality of human contrivance. Thus one remains unmixed and unchanged, and every movement and stillness follows the course of the Dao of Heaven. Purity without admixture is for exhausting the principles of things; calm concentration without change is for fully expressing one’s nature; ease and Wuwei establish the foundation; acting in accord with the Dao of Heaven means responding to the times. With this, the methods for nourishing the body are complete. Famous swords come from Gan and Yue, lands renowned in antiquity for sword-making. Everyone regards them as sacred treasures, keeps them in cases, and rarely uses them. Yet when it comes to their own bodies, people do not know how to cherish them. Do they love themselves less than they love their swords? They simply have not thought of it. A sword is a treasure among objects; the spirit is a treasure within the body. A precious sword can do no more than fend off a single enemy. But if the treasure within the body is properly preserved, it can spread without limit and nurture the myriad things. This is what the Book of Changes means by “following the twists and turns to bring all things to fulfillment, leaving nothing out”; it is also what is meant by “mysterious and unfathomable, without fixed form.” To say that it “shares its name with the Emperor” is merely an expedient way of naming it. We guard the spirit in order to attain the state of spirit; once there, one becomes one with the spirit, and even the name “pure and unadulterated” is no longer adequate. When concentrated sincerity runs through everything, it accords with the principle of nature. The text also cites the words of a recluse from the wilderness as confirmation: the sage values essence; when essence is pure, it can enter the spirit. Such a person embodies purity and unadulterated simplicity, and puts the spirit to work; this is what is meant by a True Person.

The commentary by Bixu says: The body is overtaxed and essence and Qi are used up because one goes beyond one’s proper limits and harms one’s nature. Water is naturally clear and still; when it is disturbed, it loses its original state. The human spirit is the same.

Only when the mind is free of confusion can it be clear; only when one refrains from rash action can it be calm. The true water within the body—a metaphor in Daoist health practice for the body’s inner essence and vital energy—is the same.

If one can remain pure, quiet, and focused, and act in accord with the natural order, then the spirit is already strong, even without deliberate physical training. People treasure a sharp sword and know to store it carefully. If the spirit is constantly unsettled and never gathered in, is that not to mistake the root for the branch? Those skilled in regulating body and mind can match the work of creation and transformation. Those skilled in nurturing their unadorned nature know how to guard their spirit and Qi, and so can merge with the profound and mysterious Dao and understand the natural order.

The Wild Sayings says that there are four ways to nurture the spirit, the foremost being “valuing essence”: making the mind empty and still, and closing off the six apertures (here, the sensory desires and external temptations that disturb the spirit). When one’s nature is untouched by worldly dust, the spirit can remain unadorned; when body and mind are undisturbed by affairs, one can preserve one’s undivided wholeness. With a nature that is whole and unadorned, how could one say it is not the true Dao?

Yanzhai says: Water is used here as a metaphor for cultivating health. If water is blocked and cannot become clear, it is incomplete; but if it dries up and becomes entirely stagnant, it is like withered wood or dead ashes. “Free of mixture” and “do not move” refer to Wuwei (non-action). Yet if water does not flow, it cannot stay clear, so Wuwei also includes action. Does the celestial sphere not complete one revolution each day, showing movement and action within non-action?

Nurturing the spirit is cultivating life; speaking directly of the “spirit” is more apt. Those who cherish a treasured sword store it carefully—how much more should people do so with their spirit? The transformation and nourishment of all things also depend on this wondrous operation. It leaves no visible trace, so its function is no different from that of the Heavenly Emperor. Those who practice the Way of purity and simplicity begin by focusing on guarding the spirit. Over time, they merge with it. Only upon reaching a state of vast transformation is this called “transformation”; before that change occurs, the person and the Dao remain separate. Cultivating undivided purity until one accords with the natural order is the state of the sage, and what is meant by being unfathomably deep.

“Valuing essence” means nurturing the spirit; “purity” is like the pure, genuine essence of the Qian hexagram in the Book of Changes. The True Person, the Perfected Person, and the sage do not differ in rank from one another. In “Carving and Polishing,” Zhuangzi discusses nurturing the spirit as well as the movement of Heaven and the transformation of all things. In “Nurturing Life,” he discusses preserving and cultivating the body, as well as the course of time, destiny, conduct, and error. He treats nurturing the spirit and preserving the body in separate chapters; learners should reflect carefully on the practices involved in each.

The Way of nurturing the spirit rests on Wuwei. Hence it is likened to water that is clear, calm, and still, yet ever illuminated. When water moves, one follows the celestial sphere, which moves with vigor and ceaselessly, extending throughout Heaven and Earth. At its root are freedom from mixture, constancy, and Wuwei. This is to illuminate all things while the mind remains perpetually still. Excessive exertion depletes and exhausts one’s vitality, so quiet cultivation matters; yet when water is blocked and cannot flow, it cannot become clear, so activity matters too. The wondrous Dao lies in neither clinging to stillness nor clinging to movement, but abiding between the two without departing from either. This is what makes it precious…

Could only the treasured swords produced in Qianyue, around Wu and Yue, be worth preserving? When a person accords with the Imperial Dao, they become one with Heaven. Here, “Heaven” means spirit. A person’s Jing and Qi communicate with the principles of Heaven; at this point, the Dao of Heaven and the Dao of humanity can no longer be separated. At the end of the chapter, a folk saying is cited as evidence, bringing the discussion back to precious Jing and Qi and concluding with “being able to realize pure simplicity”: when one realizes pure simplicity, all things can be transformed along with it. Who but a True Person could reach this stage?

This chapter is titled “Consciously Striving.” It means deliberately tempering the mind, defying convention and correcting custom, shouldering hardship and discipline alone, doing what no one else in the world can do, and hoping others will follow. This is like piercing an ox’s nose or putting a halter on a horse: both damage their natural nature. Striving to appear superior diminishes De, making the people difficult to govern.

Thus Nanhua lists the different aims of people in antiquity: Boyi and Shuqi pursued moral purity; Confucius and Mencius devoted themselves to self-cultivation; Yi Yin and Fu Yue worked to govern the world; Chaofu and Xuyou withdrew from the world to live in seclusion; Lao Dan and Pengzu were renowned for longevity. Judged by their outward conduct, they seem to have favored different paths. Yet they could still become sages because, though they acted, they were not bound by “action”; though they practiced Wuwei, they did not become attached to “non-action.” They simply responded to what circumstances made possible or impossible, and used that response as their way of living in the world.

Therefore, what is most precious is emptiness, stillness, and Wuwei; simplicity and quiet contentment; following nature’s movements and the transformations of all things; and sharing their De and their flow. When the mind holds no fixed views and one’s actions accord with the principles of Heaven, where could misfortune or entanglement come from? How could life and death, or plans and concerns, disturb the spirit? In this way, one becomes still and empty, plain and detached, pure and unadulterated, at peace with all things and at odds with none, ultimately attaining the nourishment of the spirit.

The chapter also compares this to the story of the treasured sword from Qianyue: for a person, it should be obvious at a glance how heavy a sword is and whether to keep or discard it. Yet people remain so confused and deluded. The chapter opens by criticizing the habit of deliberate self-adornment and admiration of moral conduct, and closes by saying that only one who can realize pure simplicity deserves to be called a True Person. This shows that those who deliberately advertise themselves and prize moral conduct are really seeking empty fame.

The foundation of nourishing life is pure simplicity, and the first priority in pure simplicity is protecting the spirit. Once one reaches a state of union with spirit, the foundation of the Dao is established. Why, then, cling to its branches and deliberately cultivate the mind or advertise one’s conduct? Nanhua presents this argument to correct the hypocrisy of scholars of his time, so that they might rest content in life’s inherent natural state and restore the unadorned nature of De.

The Subtle Meaning of the True Classic of Southern Florescence, fascicle 48