《南華真經義海纂微》Vol. 50

River Earl said, “People in the world say that what is most minute has no form, and what is greatest cannot be enclosed. Is this true?”

The Lord of the Northern Sea replied, “Look at the great from the standpoint of the small, and you cannot see it all; look at the small from the standpoint of the great, and you cannot see it clearly. Minute things are indeed tiny, and vast things are indeed immense. Each therefore has its own appropriate use; this follows from the circumstances. What we call fine and coarse applies only to things that have form. Formless things cannot be divided by numbers, and things that cannot be enclosed cannot be measured by numbers to the end. What can be discussed in words is the coarser, more evident side of things; what can be apprehended by the mind is their more subtle side. A realm that words cannot express and the mind cannot perceive does not belong to the category of fine or coarse.

“So the conduct of a great person does not follow a path that harms others, yet he does not boast of his benevolence or kindness. He acts without seeking profit and does not look down on gatekeepers or servants. He neither competes for possessions nor makes a point of yielding them. He does not depend on others in his work, nor does he make a living by taking more than his share. He does not despise the greedy and corrupt. His conduct differs from the customs of the world, yet he does not deliberately set himself apart. He does what others do, yet does not look down on those who flatter and curry favor. Titles and stipends in the world cannot entice him; killing and humiliation cannot bring him shame. He understands that right and wrong cannot be sharply divided, and that the minute and the vast cannot be assigned fixed boundaries. It is said: one who has attained the Dao does not seek fame; one of supreme De does not seek to gain anything; a great person has no self. To bring one’s own boundaries to their utmost restraint is to reach this state.”

Guo Xiang’s commentary says: “The range of what the eyes can see is limited, so they cannot see all that is vast or clearly see what is minute. This only means that the eyes cannot reach them; it does not prove that minute or vast things are formless. How can we know that formless, unbounded things truly exist? Things differ in size, and each has circumstances in which it is appropriate; they cannot be forced into uniformity. If they were truly formless and unbounded, there would be no differences in their uses. How could a realm beyond the reach of both words and the mind be called fine or coarse? What words and the mind can reach still has form. Only by going beyond words and the mind, seeking outside them and entering a realm without words or thought, can one arrive there.

“A great person acts without fixed opinions, simply following what is natural. With each step he walks the fitting path; how could he take a path that harms others? He harms no one, yet does not think himself to have bestowed great kindness. His actions accord with the circumstances: he lets things exercise their abilities and each settles in its proper place. This is not because he looks down on anyone and assigns them there. Rather, everyone’s responsibilities are fixed and fit the situation; each bears their own part and finds fulfillment in it. Such is the natural course of things…” (The original text ends here unfinished.)

With no desires, there is nothing one must affirm or deny, so one’s attitude differs from that of ordinary people. Acting in accordance with the patterns of things and remaining naturally upright, one is not inwardly moved by honor or disgrace. This is called “Mystic Unity” (Xuántóng, being in communion with all things without being affected by external things).

By going along with things, one allows the myriad beings to unfold naturally according to their own natures, and merit and fame then belong to the things themselves. Thus, one does not dwell on merit or fame, nor deliberately pursue a reputation. Letting the myriad beings develop on their own, one ensures that none lose their nature. To go along with things is simply to let each reach its proper limit. This is called “Obscurity” (Míng, merging with things without clinging to distinctions).

Lü’s commentary says: When we look at something immense from a tiny vantage point, our eyesight cannot reach it. We simply cannot see it all; that does not mean it cannot be measured around. When we look at something tiny from an immense vantage point, the jiaoming—a legendary insect so small it could perch on a mosquito’s eyelash—cannot be seen, even with keen eyesight. We simply cannot make it out; that does not mean it has no form.

Coarse and fine refer to things that have form. As for form and formlessness, human understanding cannot distinguish or exhaust them completely. What can be discussed in words is the coarser, more evident aspect of things; what can be apprehended by the mind is their finer, subtler aspect. The Dao, however, lies beyond the reach of words and thought, and is not defined by coarseness or fineness.

Thus, the conduct of a great person never crosses the bounds of what would harm the natural character of human nature. Nor does such a person deliberately practice benevolence and generosity, since these are not contrived acts. Gate attendants, who earn their living by guarding gates and performing service, regard labor as their duty. Those who prize humility do not compete with others; those who make their living by their own efforts do not rely on others; the greedy and corrupt act in the opposite way. Those who reject what is different make a point of setting themselves apart. Flatterers obey the ruler and those close to them, but do not obey the people at large. Each of these behaviors arises naturally from its own causes; worldly ranks and rewards, punishments and penalties, are not enough to encourage the good and punish the bad.

How could such a person still know the distinctions between right and wrong, or the boundaries between great and small? If one follows the proper limits of each thing and reaches a state beyond attachment to distinctions, one can understand why the Dao goes unheralded, why the highest De (Virtue/Power) cannot be measured, and why a great person does not take the self as a limit.

The Yidu commentary says: The scripture asks, “Is the sky’s blue its original color? Or does it appear that way because it is so high and boundless?” So when we look at something immense from a tiny vantage point, we cannot see it all; when we look at something tiny from an immense vantage point, we cannot make it out. Those who debate matters in the world take the range of their own eyesight as proof that they understand things. How confused they are!

Heaven and earth are merely small things within empty space. From where I stand, they seem vast beyond measure. It is not that heaven and earth are truly infinite; my body is simply too small. An autumn hair is among the tiniest forms. Seen from far away, it cannot be made out. This does not mean the autumn hair does not exist; I am simply too far from it. If we are not bound by eyesight but apprehend things with the spirit, even the greatest thing can be measured around, and even the smallest thing truly has form. This is why Hai Ruo, the sea god in Zhuangzi’s “Autumn Floods,” was able to discuss the Dao so well and reason from the patterns of things.

The tiniest things are called “minute”; refined to the utmost, they are like chaff. From the perspective of what is large, chaff is still minute; from the perspective of what is minute, it already counts as large. We can imagine the fine and coarse aspects of the myriad things, and discuss them in words. But such imaginings and discussions can reach only particular things. How could they possibly exhaust the Dao (the Way)? Only speech that cannot be put into words touches a realm beyond the reach of words and thought, a realm that those who deliberately seek it cannot attain. How, then, could its scope be exhausted by distinctions of fine and coarse, large and small?

A “great person” is someone who is content within the bounds of their own nature and role. They do no harm to others, yet kindness and generosity naturally reach them. They do not deliberately add to their nature what was not there to begin with. Though not driven by profit, they do not therefore look down on gatekeepers and laborers; among such people, too, are those who work for the sake of gain. They do not compete for possessions, but neither do they make a point of yielding them to others. They do not rely on others to get things done, and earn their living through their own labor, but do not make a point of doing more. Even when their conduct differs from convention, they rarely set out to be unconventional, for they follow along with others.

These are the ways a great person conducts themself. Their nobility is not like that of Boyi or Liuxia Hui, who deliberately sought purity and equanimity; their lowliness is not like that of the violent bandit Zhi. How could they regard rank and stipend as enticements, punishment and disgrace as shameful, or cling to distinctions between right and wrong, large and small? Thus, the Dao is not attained by hearing about it, and De (Virtue/Power) is not attained by acquiring it. This is because the great person has no fixed self: they simply preserve their nature and proper limits, reaching a state of utmost simplicity.

The Detailed Commentary on the Dao says: “In facing all things under Heaven, the great person forgets things through the mind, then forgets the mind through the Dao. They simply do nothing to harm others; if this is taken to mean that they bestow abundant kindness and generosity, in truth they do not deliberately give kindness. They do not compete for possessions; others may think they ought to yield more, but in truth they do not make a point of yielding. They do not rely on others in their work; others may think they ought to earn their living through more labor, but in truth they do not make a point of doing more. Their conduct differs from convention; others may think they are always trying to be unconventional, but in truth they do not deliberately set themselves apart.

“They do not elevate themselves by disparaging gatekeepers and laborers, display their purity by disparaging the corrupt, or prove their integrity by disparaging flatterers. In this way, rank and stipend, punishment, and disgrace cannot disturb their minds; there is nothing in distinctions of right and wrong, large and small, for them to dispute with the outside world. If so, what is there to dwell on in the fine and coarse distinctions made by words and thought?

“Thus, hearing about something is not the same as truly hearing it, and there is nothing to be gained by gaining it. To reach the state of ‘no self’—to be free of attachment to the self—is to arrive at ‘I have lost myself,’ letting go of the fixed self. How, then, could one remain attached to the myriad things? If one cannot preserve one’s own proper limits and reach utmost simplicity, one cannot understand this realm.”

The Bixu Commentary begins: “The tiny jiaoming insect pays no heed to the seashore; the great Peng bird gives no thought to the mugwort and wormwood…” The original text ends here, unfinished.

When looking at things, vision always has its limits if we rely only on our eyes. To take what we see as the whole of reality is to fall into danger. The fine and the coarse cannot be fully defined by form, yet we cannot help using words and thought to reason about them. Knowing that favors and benefits can bring harm, he does not compete for possessions. Though his conduct differs from the ways of the world, he can go along with others without drawing attention to himself. Rank and stipends cannot entice him, nor can punishment and disgrace bring him shame; he places himself outside himself. Right and wrong cannot be sharply divided, and great and small cannot be easily measured, so the mind must be made empty and still.

The Daoist does not seek knowledge through what he hears; if he clings to what he has heard, he has not yet attained the Dao. Highest De does not aim at acquisition; to cling to what one acquires is already to settle for something lesser. The great person has no fixed self, for what is called the self is only one thing among the myriad things. All this describes a state in which each thing rests in its proper place and fulfills its proper part: a natural state, not one brought about by deliberate arrangement.

Yanzhai says: Looking at the sky through a tube cannot reveal its full vastness; even the great Peng, gazing down from on high at the dust, cannot see its finest particles. Things so subtle as to be formless cannot be sorted by counting them as “mao” or “hu.” Things so vast that they cannot be encompassed cannot be exhausted by counting; neither “zi” nor “zhao” is an adequate measure. If the fine and the coarse are bounded by form, they can be reasoned about with words and thought. But when neither the small nor the great has form, they lie beyond the reach of words and thought and cannot be measured as fine or coarse.

He neither harms others nor deliberately bestows favors on them; hence the saying, “He does not act from a wish to harm others.” There is no need to go about performing acts of benevolence. As for gate servants, lowly laborers, and others who make their living by seeking profit, I do not take advantage of them, nor do I judge them wrong for doing so. I do not compete for possessions, but neither do I make a show of yielding them; I simply follow my own way without relying on others. Even if he does not devote all his strength to making a living, he does not therefore look down on those who seek profit. His conduct is no different from that of ordinary people, and he does not deliberately set himself apart. He simply follows others and blends with the dust, keeping his brilliance in check as he lives among the world.

He does not despise flatterers, but lives among them at ease; they cannot stain his intentions. With regard to such people, he neither draws distinctions between right and wrong nor confuses great and small. He does not treat what he hears as something gained, nor does he feel that he has lost something when he fails to attain it.

The great person can grasp the highest principle in what is most concise while fully carrying out his own part. “Keeping to one’s part” means fulfilling what is one’s own to do. To observe the vast from the tiny is to stop when one reaches what cannot be exhausted; this does not mean the vast extends only that far. To observe the tiny from the vast is to stop when it can no longer be seen; this does not mean the tiny does not exist or has no form.

“Jing” means the utmost minuteness, while “lie” means the greatest extent of vastness. Though small and great differ, both have form and quantity, and so can come into being and be destroyed. When the small becomes formless and the great cannot be encompassed, neither can be defined by form or distinguished by quantity; therefore, neither comes into being nor is destroyed. Coarse things can be discussed in words; subtle things… (The original text ends here unfinished.)

One can use the mind to apprehend the Dao, going beyond the distinction between the crude and the subtle. Yet words and thought cannot reach it, and form and number cannot define it. Perhaps only the Dao is like this. Thus, the Great Person puts benefiting all things first, but does not boast of showing kindness and benevolence. They are not driven by the pursuit of benefit, yet they do not despise those who pursue it. What follows describes the conduct of the Great Person: unlike worldly people, they do not even disdain flattery and fawning. Since the noble and the petty each follow their own course, and disputes over right and wrong, great and small, are of no consequence, how could rank, punishment, or disgrace serve to encourage or discipline them? We can see from this that the Great Person is humble and seeks nothing; virtue naturally gathers around them, rather than being pursued beyond what is proper. Virtue is most precious. What is sought within one’s proper bounds is enough, and is therefore easiest to attain. Yet people today abandon themselves and seek outward, leaving what is easy to pursue what is difficult. Is this not foolish?

The River Earl asked, “Looking at things from the outside or from within, what basis is there for distinguishing the noble from the lowly? What basis is there for distinguishing the great from the small?”

The Lord of the North Sea replied, “From the perspective of the Dao, no thing is noble or lowly. From the perspective of each thing itself, each values itself and looks down on the others. From the worldly perspective, nobility and lowliness are not determined by oneself. If we judge by differences, and call something great because of the aspect in which it is greater, then nothing among the myriad things is not great. If we call something small because of the aspect in which it is smaller, then nothing among the myriad things is not small. When we understand that Heaven and Earth are no bigger than a grain of rice, and that a tiny hair can be as large as a mountain, we see clearly how the scale of great and small is measured.

“If we judge by usefulness, and acknowledge something as useful because of what it can do, then nothing among the myriad things is useless. If we call something useless because of what it cannot do, then nothing among the myriad things is useful. When we understand that east and west are opposed and cannot replace one another, the boundaries of their uses and functions become clear.

“If we judge by each thing’s own point of view, and call it right because it considers itself right, then nothing among the myriad things is wrong. If we call it wrong because it considers itself wrong, then nothing among the myriad things is right. When we understand that Yao and Jie—the legendary sage ruler and tyrant—both acted according to their own natures, yet each condemned the other, we see clearly that their aims and principles differed.

“In ancient times, Yao and Shun became emperors by yielding the throne. King Kuai of Yan handed his state to Zizhi, and the state was destroyed. Tang of Shang and King Wu of Zhou seized the realm and became kings. Bai Gong Sheng fought for power and met his downfall. From this we can see that the conventions of seizing power and yielding it, the conduct of Yao and Jie, and judgments of nobility and lowliness all change with the times. They cannot be treated as unchanging standards.

“A beam can batter down a city wall, but it cannot plug a hole; this shows that implements have different uses. Fine horses such as Qiji and Hualiu can gallop a thousand li in a day, yet they cannot catch mice as well as a wildcat…”

Owls can catch fleas nimbly at night and make out the finest hairs, yet in daylight they stare with eyes wide open and cannot even see a hill. This shows that the natural endowments of things are not all the same. So if someone insists that only one way of acting is right and every other way is wrong, promotes only one method of governing and regards all others as disorder, that person has yet to understand the principles of Heaven and Earth or the condition of the myriad things. This is like honoring Heaven while denying Earth, or honoring Yin while denying Yang: plainly, it cannot work. Yet some people go on expounding such ideas without end. They are either ignorant or loquacious.

The ways in which emperors yielded the throne differed, and the succession practices of the Xia, Shang, and Zhou dynasties were also unlike one another. Those who act against their age and in defiance of its customs are called usurpers; those who act in keeping with their age and customs are regarded as righteous. River Lord, you are silent—how could you understand the boundaries between noble and lowly, small and great?

Guo Xiang’s commentary: Nothing has an absolute status as noble or lowly; each thing can be complete in itself. To belittle other things by taking what one esteems as the standard is a narrow distinction. It is precisely here that the Dao brings things into interwoven harmony and makes them equal. Nobility and lowliness are not determined by oneself; to insist on dividing them is to turn things upside down.

“Great” means sufficient to be complete in itself; “small” means having nothing to spare. If we call things great according to their own endowments, then fine hairs and hills need not have different names. If we call things small because they have nothing left over, then Heaven and Earth and a grain of rice need not be called different things. If we observe only their differences and do not follow this principle, things will overwhelm and contend with one another, and their differences will multiply without end.

All things in the world stand in relation to one another, like east and west, which are opposed; yet they remain connected. Lips and teeth do not deliberately help each other, but without the lips the teeth grow cold. The existence of the other enables what I do, and its influence is great. So if we follow what each thing does and do not credit one another with the merit, then there is no merit to speak of in the world. But if we suppose that things cannot do without one another and credit them with helping each other, then merit seems to be everywhere in the world.

If we forget how each thing fulfills its own function and devote ourselves to calculating the favors they do for one another, then the more diligently we bestow favors, the more falsity and superficiality increase. The world loses its proper order, and human feelings and nature fall into disarray. Thus, the attribution of merit can never be settled.

All things follow their own nature, so nothing fails to come about; all things also each deny something, so nothing escapes denial. Yao was one for whom there was neither affirmation nor negation; Jie was one who both affirmed and negated. Yet each of these rulers received his own nature from Heaven, and neither could take the other’s place. Seen through Yao and Jie, the aims and conduct of people in the world show that they cannot take one another’s place.

Those who accept the world by following the Way of Heaven and yielding to the people’s wishes leave behind accounts that seem to describe either struggle or deference. If we pursue only these accounts, we lose sight of the underlying reasons for what happened. If we can follow the differences among things and let each fulfill its own nature, then nothing among the myriad things will fail to find its proper place… (The original text ends here unfinished.)

To understand the true condition of the myriad things, “order” means allowing each to follow its own nature; losing one’s nature is “disorder.” Things have different natures, so there is no fixed authority that decides right and wrong. If we leave them to nature and let right and wrong proceed side by side in natural equality, then differences of place and kind can each find their proper place.

Lü Huiqing’s commentary says: Viewed from the Dao (the Way), what could be noble or base among the myriad things? Viewed from the perspective of things themselves, each regards itself as noble and looks down on the others, but the Dao is not any particular thing. Viewed from the perspective of worldly custom, nobility and baseness do not depend on things themselves, but the Dao is not a worldly thing either. Since the Dao belongs neither to things nor to worldly custom, it has no nobility or baseness of its own. Following what is “large” in things, we call them large; following what is “small,” we call them small. Understand that Heaven and Earth, compared with the Great Void—the empty substance of the cosmos—are only a slight difference, while a grain of millet or a hair’s tip, compared with the formless, could also be called a mountain. Then the distinctions in question can indeed be counted. But the Dao itself is not a distinction, so it has no size. Following what is “present,” we say something exists: if there is an east, there must be a west. Following what is “absent,” we say it does not exist: without an east, there is no west. Understand that east and west are opposites yet depend on each other and are both indispensable; then the boundaries of their “function” are established. But the Dao is not a function, so it has neither existence nor nonexistence. Following what is “so,” we regard something as right; following what is “not so,” we regard it as wrong. Understand that Yao and Jie each held to their own views and rejected the other’s; then the principles that guide their respective “orientations” become clear. But the Dao is not an orientation, so it has neither right nor wrong. Thus, the person who cultivates the Dao forgets all these things and rests in natural equality. Why would they still need to distinguish nobility from baseness, or largeness from smallness?

If one considers the abdication of Yao and Shun right, then King Cuo of Yan—who brought disorder to his state by yielding the throne to Zizhi—would be condemned for it. If one considers the conquests of Tang of Shang and King Wu of Zhou right, then Bai Gong Sheng, who rebelled in a bid for power in the state of Chu, would be condemned for it. The propriety of contending or yielding, and the conduct of Yao and Jie, depend on the circumstances of the time; they cannot be treated as unchanging rules. A great timber can be used to batter down a city gate, but not to plug a small hole. A fine steed can travel a thousand li in a day, but cannot catch mice. An owl can catch fleas at night, but cannot see a hill in daylight. These three have different natures; to try to make them alike is to misunderstand the principles of Heaven and the conditions of things.

The commentator known as Zuangwei says: The phrase “usurper” refers to a distinctive principle of right; the word “followers” refers to the views held by the multitude.

The commentary of Yidu says: To speak of the inner and outer aspects of things is to speak of what lies within and beyond the bounds of their allotted nature. Neither noble nor base is the principle of nature; nobility and baseness are distinctions imposed by human effort. Viewed through the Dao, there is no “this” or “that,” no right or wrong—who, then, would distinguish nobility from baseness? Viewed through things, each regards itself as noble and the other as base. The nobility or baseness of things does not arise from their nature but is shaped by custom, so from the perspective of worldly custom it does not depend on the things themselves. The size of things cannot be changed in principle, though their physical forms do differ. Because what is small has smallness as its allotted condition, it does not seek to become large.

From the perspective of how things function, even something large may appear small, and in that sense it can be called “large.” What is truly great does not lie in deliberately pursuing the name “great.” Something small may also appear large, and in that sense it can be called “small.” Viewed in terms of where each thing appears large, each can be complete in itself. Thus, a hair’s tip may be compared with a hill; viewed in terms of where each thing appears small, with no difference left over, a hill may likewise be compared with a hair’s tip. The differences among the myriad things are endless; what we see is no more than these circumstances.

What is called “being” is subtle existence, and it is constant existence; what is called “nonbeing” is genuine nothingness, and it is constant nothingness. The growth and reproduction of the plants and animals under Heaven involve the participation of some kind of function; this can be called “being.” Yet the source of that function lies in the transformation of nature—the process by which things arise and change on their own. Since it simply happens naturally, this too can be called “nonbeing.” If you focus only on “being,” you will not see “nonbeing”; if you sink into the dark depths of “nonbeing,” you will not see “being.” The two seem opposed, but in fact cannot be separated. Nature determines what function each thing performs.

Among the principles of the myriad things, there are “right” and “wrong,” each negating the other; this is how Yao and Jie are distinguished. When things negate one another in accordance with their circumstances, their respective aims and conduct become apparent. Thus, some yielded and became rulers, while others yielded and lost their states; some struggled for power and became kings, while others struggled and perished. In the times of Yao, Shun, Tang of Shang, and King Wu of Zhou, the rites of contending and yielding were honored. In the times of Zi Kuai and Bai Gong, the same conduct was condemned. Whether Yao was right or wrong, and whether Jie was right or wrong, depended on their respective eras; they cannot be treated as unchanging standards for all time.

Consider also beams and pillars, fine horses, and owls: their uses, abilities, and natures are all different. Taking “rightness” as one’s teacher, taking “order” as one’s teacher, taking Heaven as one’s teacher, and taking Yin as one’s teacher each means clinging to one side. That such partiality cannot be put into practice is plain to see. Abdicating the throne to another or inheriting it by succession will be called usurpation if it fails to accord with the times and the customs of the day; if it accords with the times and customs, it will be called righteous. Their fundamental basis is the same; only the outcomes differ. Why judge one superior to the other?

The Xiangdao Commentary says: From the perspective of the Dao, the myriad things have no distinction between noble and lowly. Only when we leave the Dao and view things through worldly eyes do differences of size arise, functions divide into “being” and “nonbeing,” and aims divide into “right” and “wrong.” Yet I call a thing large in accordance with where it appears large, and small in accordance with where it appears small. I view the presence or absence of function, and the rightness or wrongness of aims, in just the same way. Then who can know the distinctions between large and small, being and nonbeing, right and wrong?

Still, the principles under Heaven have aspects that differ and aspects that are the same; what is the same also has aspects that differ. Change is not uniform, so no single circumstance can be treated as a constant standard. In terms of their differences, functions, and aims, things can be said to be both different and the same: some yielded and became rulers, while others yielded and lost their states; some struggled for power and became kings, while others struggled and perished.…

Although things differ from one another, they also share something in common. This commonality does not lie in the things themselves, but in the Dao (the Way). Things that seem alike also differ from one another: their differences do not lie in their outward forms, but in the times in which they exist. Beyond this, objects serve different purposes, people have different talents and skills, and their natures differ as well. To value one thing is to slight another; to consider one thing great is to regard another as small. How, then, can fixed boundaries be drawn between noble and lowly, great and small? From this we can see that right and wrong, order and disorder, Heaven and Earth, Yin and Yang, often depend on and act upon one another. They cannot be judged solely by distinctions of nobility and lowliness, greatness and smallness.

Bixu’s commentary says: The Dao itself has no distinctions of nobility or lowliness; these arise from the preferences and partialities of the myriad things. What the world commonly esteems is mostly external to oneself. To call Heaven and Earth small and a hair’s tip great is contrary to reason. If something is great in every respect simply because it is great in one respect, then anything can be called great. If something is small in every respect simply because it is small in one respect, then anything can be called small. Such distinctions of size are only relative measures. For a long time, people have used these distinctions to replace reason.

East and west are opposites, just as high and low cannot exist without one another. What I do to fulfill my own purpose must also benefit the other; if I were of no use at all, what could the other rely on? What Yao judged right and acted upon, everyone under Heaven then considered right. If everyone agreed with what Jie held to be right, who under Heaven would dare call it wrong? Could the aims and conduct of sages and ordinary people really be exactly the same?

Yao, Shun, Tang of Shang, and King Wu of Zhou followed the seasons of Heaven and upheld their respective achievements and duties. Zhi of Yan and Sheng of Bai, by contrast, went against human feeling and reason, clinging to distinctions imposed by human artifice. Thus, nobility and lowliness have no fixed, unchanging standard. The crucial difference lies in one’s aims and conduct; from this also arise the differences in breadth of mind and understanding between the noble-minded and the petty. Yet right and wrong, order and disorder, often depend on one another and transform into one another—this is something we must understand. To speak only of Heaven and not Earth, or only of Yin and not Yang, is to cling to one side without understanding the principle. Such a person is not yet fit to discuss the Dao. Those who go against their times and act against prevailing custom may be honored now but later become lowly; those who follow the times and prevailing custom may be lowly now but later become prominent.

Yanzhai says: When people consider themselves noble, they look down on one another. Unremarkable things such as cockscomb grass and polyporus can sometimes become precious. Nobility and lowliness are not decided by oneself. This is what is meant by “a high office and splendid carriage may come to one’s door.” If Heaven and Earth are compared to a speck of dust, and a hair’s tip to Mount Tai, then there is no need to dispute distinctions of size and rank. Each person takes on a particular duty and establishes a function through it; this is called “the division of functions.” Farmers, merchants, artisans, and traders are all indispensable to the world, just as east and west are opposites yet cannot exist without one another. Yao was judged right and Jie wrong because their aims and conduct differed. But without the decline of earlier generations, how could later rulers have risen to power? Seen this way, aims and conduct cannot be judged too hastily. To observe differences in the size and presence or absence of things, and to use them as the basis for discussing right and wrong, is precisely the principle set out in the “Discourse on the Equality of Things” … (The original text ends here unfinished.)

Things differ in their uses, skills, and inherent qualities, and can serve as analogies. The Yin and Yang between Heaven and Earth are the same: they differ from each other, yet neither can be dispensed with. At root, debates over these principles concern figures like Yao and Jie, the legendary sage ruler and tyrant.

No thing has a fixed rank of worth or lowliness. If people can forget themselves, they will no longer cling to ranking things as higher or lower. Those who value themselves and look down on others have not yet forgotten the self. Worth and lowliness are not decided by personal opinion. One should set the self aside and follow each thing’s own qualities: regard the great in light of what it excels at, and the small in light of what suits it. This is to treat things according to what is fitting for each of them.

In their uses and tendencies, things are sometimes present and sometimes absent. Though they differ, they are not wholly opposed to one another, and neither side can be dispensed with. From this we can see the principles of things and the ways of human affairs. The forms taken by contention and yielding, actions of good and evil, and distinctions of worth and lowliness all change with the times; they cannot be treated as eternal standards. Just as tools have different uses, crafts different skills, and inherent qualities different advantages, they cannot all be measured by the same standard.

To insist that there should be order without disorder, or Yin without Yang, is to misunderstand the principles of Heaven, Earth, and all things. Following and change, favorable and adverse circumstances, each arise in their own time; there is no need to say more. Even if you do, you are only discussing surface appearances. How could you know where worth and lowliness, greatness and smallness truly come from? To seek their source, one must look to “the state before there were things”—the origin in which all things had yet to appear.