《南華真經義海纂微》Vol. 74

The Yellow Emperor was preparing to visit Great Kui at Mount Juzi. Fangming drove the carriage, Changyu rode beside him, and Zhang Ruo and Xipeng followed in front of it, while Kunhun and Huaji followed behind. The seven sages reached the outskirts of Xiangcheng, where they lost their way and could find no one who could give them clear directions. Then they met a boy tending horses and asked him the way.

The Yellow Emperor asked, “Do you know Mount Juzi?” The boy replied, “I do.” “Do you know where Great Kui is?” The boy replied, “I do.”

The Yellow Emperor said in surprise, “How remarkable! This boy not only knows Mount Juzi, but also where Great Kui is. May I ask what one should do to govern the world?”

The boy said, “Governing the world is no more than this. What else is there to do? When I was young, I traveled within the four quarters of Heaven and Earth. Later, I developed a dizzy, blurred vision, and an elder advised me: ‘Why not ride the sun’s carriage and take a trip to the outskirts of Xiangcheng?’ Now my illness has eased a little, and I plan to travel beyond Heaven and Earth again. Governing the world is no more than this. What else is there to do?”

The Yellow Emperor said, “Governing the world is indeed not something you need to concern yourself with. Still, I would like to ask you about the essentials of governing it.”

The Yellow Emperor asked the boy again. The boy said, “What is governing the world compared with tending horses? You need only remove whatever harms them.”

On hearing this, the Yellow Emperor bowed twice to the boy, touched his head to the ground in greeting, and respectfully addressed him as “Heavenly Teacher.” Then he departed.

Guo Xiang’s commentary says that sages may have titles, but once titles are established, the myriad things are more likely to lose their way. Even if one wishes to find Great Kui, there is no guarantee one will succeed. When each thing follows its own nature, nothing more needs to be done. Only by avoiding excessive action can one govern the world. “Riding the sun’s carriage” means working at sunrise and resting at sunset. The most important thing in governing the world is to let the myriad things develop according to their nature and not disturb them. When the ruler practices Wuwei (non-action), the people can transform and flourish naturally. If horses are made to do things beyond their nature, they are harmed. Remove these excessive demands, and one will naturally draw close to the Dao represented by Great Kui.

Lü Huiqing’s commentary says that “Kui” carries the meaning of “great and lofty.” Nothing is broader or higher than the Dao: it encompasses the myriad things. This is also what is implied by the name “Juzi.” The Yellow Emperor wished to visit Great Kui, but traveled with seven sages; as a result, they all lost their way in the outskirts of Xiangcheng. This is like drilling seven openings in Hundun, which caused Hundun to die: they sought to understand the Great Dao but did not stop relying on sage-like intelligence, and so remained confused and unenlightened even when they reached the highest realm. The original commentary goes on to note that, among the Twelve Earthly Branches, the horse corresponds to Wu (午), whose direction is south.

The mind can be compared to fire, while the child symbolizes a person free of cunning and desire. A child is just the right one to tend horses: let them act according to their nature, without trying to control them by force.

The Yellow Emperor asked: “Where does Great Obscurity dwell on Mount Juzi?” The divine spirit is already present within the human heart, yet it has no fixed form and can wander freely. So long as one remains within the bounds of the four directions between Heaven and Earth, one has not escaped the troubles of confusion and delusion. To dispel them, the best way is to rely on a clear and discerning mind to reach upward, and travel in the sun chariot to Xiangcheng. That is the meaning here. Even so, one has improved only a little, since one is still riding in the sun chariot. If one could travel beyond the four directions between Heaven and Earth without riding it, what cause for worry would remain? Governing the world is like caring for the mind and spirit: there is no special method; it is enough to remove what harms them.

People follow the thoughts that have taken shape within them and make those thoughts their teacher. Who can be without a teacher of their own? When they realize that their teacher is within themselves, they call it the “Celestial Master” (the inner teacher of naturalness), and then withdraw.

Commentary from the Yidu Commentary: “Great Obscurity” is a makeshift name for the Dao; “Juzi” is a metaphor for a place so perilous and difficult to reach. Names such as “Fangming” and “Huaji” are also figurative expressions. When people each cling to one side, the Dao has become scattered.

Xiangcheng is a county belonging to Ruzhou, south of Mount Juzi. “Tending horses” means following the nature of the myriad things and then guiding them; the “child” symbolizes someone without book learning or cunning, and free of private intentions. This parable, through the story of the Yellow Emperor and his six ministers, explains how a seeker of the Dao follows a path toward the place where the Dao resides. In the metaphor, Xiangcheng represents the middle way, while the open plain represents freedom from partiality. The child tending horses can point out the confusion of the seven sages, which is why the Yellow Emperor is astonished by him.

The mountain still has a definite location, showing that this has not yet left the realm of things that can be pointed to. This is the more superficial aspect of the Dao, which can be discussed and studied. The Dao’s subtle essence, however, cannot be reached through study or speech; one must go beyond learning and forget words.

When a sage governs the world, he acts through non-action and accomplishes things without deliberate striving. What is there to insist on managing? “Traveling a little within the four directions between Heaven and Earth” means having once taken part in worldly affairs. Conducting affairs of state inevitably brings limits and constraints, which lead to the trouble of a clouded and dizzy mind. Riding in the sun chariot means following the changing course of the sun and moon. Arriving at the plain of Xiangcheng, near Mount Juzi and far from worldly dust, brings some relief from this trouble.

To travel beyond the four directions between Heaven and Earth means to go beyond the appearances of the myriad things. Zhuangzi seems to be saying that a seeker of the Dao must first reach the place where the Dao resides; hence the question, “Where does Great Obscurity dwell?” Yet one still cannot avoid engaging with the world and experiencing its troubles; hence the account of having traveled a little within the four directions between Heaven and Earth and so suffering from confusion. If one then travels beyond those four directions, entering the Way of Heaven and moving in Wuwei (non-action), what would there be left to do? The Yellow Emperor keeps asking questions, and at last Great Obscurity answers him with the story of tending horses.

Bixu’s Commentary: The Yellow Emperor completed his work without claiming credit for it. He therefore went to a secluded place to seek the Dao and met a boy tending horses. The boy spoke of horse herding, but was really explaining the principles of governing a state. Horses by nature eat grass and drink water, which is enough to sustain them. The people by nature farm for food and spin and weave for clothing, which is enough to provide for themselves; they ask for nothing else. The chariot of the sun means following the Dao of daily change without remaining fixed in one place. When the Yellow Emperor asked again, the boy did not answer. Through silence, he demonstrated the “teaching without words.”

Today, those who herd horses do not understand that whipping and driving them harms the horses. Those who govern the people likewise fail to understand that laws and decrees breed deceit and wrongdoing. They conclude that horses are difficult to tame and people difficult to govern. Both approaches are mistaken.

Liu Gai’s Commentary: The mystery of thoughtlessness and non-action can be attuned to only by the Dao of utmost spirit. The sage responds to the world only because circumstances leave no choice, sharing the people’s troubles with them. Thus it is said: “I travel within the four directions of Heaven and Earth, and happen to suffer from the affliction of confusion.” The way to share the people’s troubles is simply to understand the patterns of Yin-Yang in motion and to act in step with the growth, flourishing, and labor of all things, without violating their natural patterns. Thus it is said: “Riding the chariot of the sun, I travel through the wilderness of Xiangcheng.” In this way, the people’s troubles can be dispelled. This is the time to withdraw once the work is done. The sage returns to the Dao and is not entangled by external things. Hence it is said: “Now your illness has eased somewhat, and you are about to return to travel beyond the four directions of Heaven and Earth.”

In governing the world, the best way to bring the people to a higher state is to remove whatever harms their nature; this is the foundation of nurturing nature. Removing whatever harms horses is the key to herding them. Though these principles are simple, they can be conveyed in words, so the boy could not refuse to answer.

Wu Chou’s Commentary: “Juci” suggests abundance and concealment, and is used as a metaphor for the Dao in its entirety. The one who dwells on this mountain is vast and unmatched, beyond all heights, and is therefore called “Dawei.” “Xiangcheng” is a place without people, used as a metaphor for the road leading to the Dao. Judging by appearances, the Yellow Emperor and his companions had not yet fully merged with the Dao, and so they wished to see it. The “Seven Sages” are the means on which they relied in seeking an encounter with the Dao; when they reached Xiangcheng, there was no one to ask for directions. The Dao in its entirety is already within oneself, so why seek Mount Juci somewhere else? How could the Way of Dawei be seen through external means relied upon by the “Seven Sages”? Only the boy tending horses understood this. In removing whatever harms horses, his work as a herder is a metaphor for preserving the nature of life and no longer seeking, through delusion, to add to it.

The Yellow Emperor met Great Dàkuí on Mount Juci. In Yanzhai’s Oral Commentary, the names of the six ministers in the passage are all considered allegorical. “Riding in the sun’s chariot” means traveling alongside the sun—in other words, renewing oneself day after day. “Within the six directions” means within the four quarters of Heaven and Earth. If people remain entangled in tangible things, their vision becomes clouded, and they can no longer see things clearly. Only when they free themselves from this obstruction and roam in accord with nature have they reached beyond the six directions. The same applies to governing the world: one need only avoid being entangled in tangible things. If a horse keeper follows the horses’ nature and does them no harm, the art of keeping horses is complete. “Celestial Master” means that the Yellow Emperor respectfully called this person, who followed nature, his teacher.

The Yellow Emperor’s meeting with Great Dàkuí on Mount Juci is like Yao’s meeting with the four recluses on Mount Gushe. In both cases, their spirits resonated and their vital energies harmonized; they could not be sought through outward appearance. The Yellow Emperor’s six ministers suggest that the six faculties—the cognitive functions of the eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind—had not yet been quieted. If one still believes that knowledge and opinions can grasp the Great Dao, then even when seeking to meet Great Dàkuí, one is bound to lose one’s way along the journey. Great Dàkuí, undivided and whole, symbolizes the substance of the Dao; Mount Juci, which covers all things, symbolizes its function. The outskirts of Xiangcheng still seem bounded by walls, and so are not as vast as Mount Dongting. This shows that one has not yet become empty, still, open, and boundless. The seeker of the Dao is at a loss, and even the discerning inner ruler does not know where to turn.

Yet the Yellow Emperor knew to ask a young horse keeper for directions, which brought him close to the Great Dao. The boy symbolizes the spirit that keeps watch over the heart, much like the Chan Buddhist metaphor of herding an ox. But who, in the end, is doing the herding, and what is being herded? If wisdom can turn back and tame the six emotions, it is like a skilled horse keeper removing whatever might harm the horses. Governing the world follows the same principle and is not difficult. The idea is akin to comparing the governing of the people to herding sheep.

“Mou” refers to an eye disorder, and “visual clouding” to impaired sight. The eye can see only within the six directions; confined by the body and material things, it cannot see beyond the boundless. This is the affliction. Someone taught the Yellow Emperor how to cure it: if he could ride the light of Heaven upward and roam through the outskirts of Xiangcheng, how could he lose his way? The Yellow Emperor’s affliction had now eased somewhat: he could roam beyond the six directions, yet still knew there was a distinction between inside and outside them. He was therefore not fully cured; his condition had merely improved. The young horse keeper took nature alone as his teacher, yet could reach this state. The Yellow Emperor accordingly called him “Celestial Master” and withdrew. This chapter uses an allegory to show that learning the Dao is not easy.

If one can recognize and hold fast to one’s own path in one’s heart, follow innate clear awareness upward to its full reach, and transcend the constraints of bodily form and material things, wandering freely on Mount Juci, the legendary mountain of immortals, then one can arrive there without asking anyone for directions.

A wise person is unhappy without thoughts to ponder and changes to consider; an eloquent person is unhappy without orderly speech; and a discerning person is unhappy without matters to investigate and distinguish. All these people are constrained by external things.

Those who seek to attract the people enjoy managing affairs of the court. Those who live among the people and hope to make a name for themselves enjoy gaining official rank. Those who work with their strength take pride in overcoming hardship. The brave rise up when disaster strikes. Those who take up arms delight in battle. Those who live austere and self-contained lives rely on their reputations to establish themselves. Those who study the law enjoy extending their power to govern. Those who prize ritual instruction value outward appearance. Those who esteem benevolence and righteousness cherish human relationships. Farmers have nothing to rely on without the work of plowing and weeding; merchants have nothing to rely on without buying and selling in the marketplace. People work diligently when they have a livelihood to pursue from morning to evening. Craftspeople feel they have room to apply their skills when they have tools and techniques to work with. When their wealth and savings are insufficient, the greedy become anxious; when their power and influence wane, those who love to boast become sorrowful. These people depend on circumstances and external things. They delight in change and have a use for themselves when opportunity arises, so they cannot practice Wuwei (non-action).

All these people go along with the customs of their time and do not regard themselves as out of step with worldly affairs. They indulge their bodies and natures, lose themselves in the myriad things, and never turn back for the rest of their lives. How pitiful.

Guo Xiang’s commentary says: These people cannot find contentment within themselves, so they take pleasure in external things and are consequently constrained by them. Everyone is limited by what they love. When there is something one loves, the myriad things naturally come to one; no one forces them to do so. Scholars differ from one another, and for this reason what suits them cannot easily be changed. Those with the same abilities do the same kinds of work, and so they draw close to one another. When people pursue occupations suited to them and their aims are fulfilled, they work diligently; when the work does not suit their abilities, they grow slack. People are happy when they encounter what they love. The rise and fall of power and influence come from changes in worldly affairs. Each of the kinds of scholars mentioned above has its own use; when the right moment arrives, they cannot help but act. If the moment does not come, then even if they wish to put their abilities to use, how could they do so? Thus, high and low status have no fixed, unchanging standard, and each person’s abilities have their limits, just as the succession of the seasons cannot be altered. When the season is right, things follow their proper order and can all fulfill their functions. So, follow the season and the sequence of things will flow freely; follow one’s nature and one will not be made a servant of external things. If one is not made a servant of external things, what is there to criticize? What is pitiful is failing to stay with one’s own field and skill, roaming everywhere in pursuit of opportunity and gain, and even crawling to attach oneself to others.

Lü’s commentary says: Everyone has a realm that brings them the greatest joy and suits them best. To find it and wander freely within it is to possess a vast space for freedom. Yet the various kinds of scholars mentioned above take pleasure only in exercising abilities that favor one side of their nature… (The original text ends here unfinished.)

Such people are constrained by external things and cannot master them. These are what is called “those who win the world’s attention”—people whose talent and intelligence draw the notice of others.

As for those who pursue power and external things, their aims may differ, but they all want to make their mark in their own age. They cannot practice Wuwei (non-action, refraining from deliberate interference) for the same reason: they do not know where their inner “True Ruler”—the master of the mind, the authentic self—resides. When the needs of a particular age arise, they act, but their actions do not come from the true nature of life. Ages differ between past and present, just as the seasons alternate between cold and heat. To cling to a particular set of circumstances simply because one happens to encounter them, and thus be unable to practice Wuwei, is like following the cold of winter without knowing the heat of summer, or knowing only summer’s heat and nothing of winter’s cold. Treating an accidental circumstance as permanent means being governed by the changing things. Everyone has a True Ruler within, yet people drive their bodies and minds to pursue external things without knowing how to return to their true nature. This is what grieves the Perfected Person, one of deep moral cultivation.

Commentary by Yidu: Clever people enjoy displaying their intelligence; eloquent people enjoy showing off their skill with words; and perceptive people devote themselves to investigating and questioning others. All three are put to work by external things, which is why they are said to be constrained by them. To attract people and make them admire one’s undertakings, to make the people willing to contribute their labor, and to use weapons, armor, and courage to defend the state against danger—all these are ways of serving the state. Living in seclusion in the mountains and forests, in hardship, is the calling of those who withdraw into obscurity and wither away. Laws, their enforcement, and the determination of punishments belong to the Legalist school. Ritual teachings are used to educate the people, while benevolence and righteousness bring benefit to all things. Farmers make their living by cultivating wasteland; merchants make theirs by doing business in the markets. Ordinary people have no leisure: from morning to night, they always have work to do. Artisans make their living through tools and skill; the more refined their craftsmanship, the more their enterprises prosper. The greedy devote themselves to accumulating wealth and worry when they have not gathered enough. Those who love to show off devote themselves to seeking power and grieve when they fail to attain a higher position.

Those who pursue power and external things delight in action. Change lies at the heart of action, and they take pleasure in change. So each person encounters different circumstances, and none can practice Wuwei. All these people are held in check by external things, each blinded by a partial point of view and unable to join with the Great Dao. The four seasons are encompassed by the year; the changes of all things are encompassed by the Yijing. The sage accords with the Way of Heaven, and so can encompass the year without being governed by it. The sage can respond to the changes of all things without being enslaved by them. Those who cling to one aspect are the opposite: being encompassed by the year is like being ruled by the different conditions of the seasons; being enslaved by the changes of all things is like being ruled by things with all their different forms.

Commentary by Bixu: Remove calculation and anxious thought, and clever people will have no use for their talents. Stop pursuing alliances and rivalries, and eloquent people will have no opportunity to display their skills. Uphold simplicity and ease, and perceptive people will be able to live at peace. If one cultivates oneself inwardly and takes no pleasure in chasing after things outside, external things cannot put one to work. “Those who win the world’s attention” uphold the worthy, so… (The original text ends here unfinished.)

Some people’s minds shift in many directions. They speak with great precision and enjoy pressing for details and debating gains and losses. Each takes pleasure in displaying their own abilities and feels restless if they go a day without doing so. All are drawn along by external things and find it hard to free themselves.

Those who like to recruit people rely on making their reputations known to build their influence, hoping to accomplish something at court. Ordinary people, meanwhile, regard rank and salary as honors. Those who earn a living through physical labor take pride in helping others through hardship. When the brave encounter danger, they take pleasure in risking their lives. Hermits value their reputations; those of the Legalist school often seek to bring affairs under control and also emphasize proper appearance and self-discipline. People who prize social connections consider visits and social engagements important. Farmers in the countryside and vendors in the marketplace live in harmony with one another, each attending to their daily livelihood. Craftspeople support themselves through their skills, while merchants accumulate goods and wealth. Lesser men attach themselves to the powerful and wealthy, often urging them to take action so they can pursue their own aims. When the age calls for people to contribute their efforts, it is difficult to remain inactive.

Consider the cycle of the year: all things grow and mature in accordance with the seasons, but their transformations are not something they can determine for themselves. When people are driven by things, rushing about in body and mind, and become so absorbed that they cannot return to their original nature, it is truly lamentable.

The Yanzhai Kouyi (Yanzhai’s commentary) says: “This chapter begins abruptly, suggesting that something may have been lost from the preceding text, though this can no longer be verified. It discusses what those skilled in argument and keen in discernment take pleasure in—precisely the things that those who study the Dao ought to…”

How lamentable that things should be so opposed to one another. This is because each is bound by its own abilities and limitations and cannot attain freedom.

“Drawing the world in” means recommending good people and honoring the worthy in order to attract talent from across the realm. In this way, the worthy can put their abilities to use at court, and the people can receive fitting governance; the worthy should therefore be rewarded with honors and official rank. Consider, too, the scholar, farmer, artisan, merchant, and the many craftspeople: each has a different inclination and path, and each holds to one side. They take being appointed to office as their joy, forgetting the toil it brings and forgetting that losing one’s nature is the true calamity.

Yet without understanding how things change, everything has its limits. Once things reach an extreme, deceit and hypocrisy arise, and calamity follows. When they have no use, people keep their minds fixed on being useful, planning how to organize and act, with deluded thoughts never ceasing for a moment. When the time comes and they finally become useful, they grow pleased with themselves and rush to make laws and exercise their abilities. How could one expect them to practice Wuwei (non-action)?

Those who crave wealth grow distressed if they cannot accumulate possessions; those who love to show off grow sorrowful if they cannot outdo others. This still follows the principle described above: they have settled themselves where they should not, clinging to a state that does not accord with their nature.

This is like spring, autumn, winter, and summer, each corresponding to warmth, coolness, cold, and heat. They follow the four seasons of the year, yet each has its own partial nature, and they cannot take one another’s place: cold cannot be applied to summer, nor heat to winter. “Not being made into a thing by change” means not being swayed by changes in external things. The wording here is interwoven to express this: only the Perfect Person—a figure of the highest attainment in Daoism—can keep the mind empty and still as the Great Void and have the body embody the energies of the four seasons, so that external things change in response to them, while they themselves remain undominated by those changes.