《南華真經義海纂微》Vol. 85

Section One: External Things

External things cannot be forced to come our way. Thus Guan Longfeng was executed, Bi Gan was killed, and Jizi feigned madness. E Lai died at the hands of Jie, whose kingdom fell, while Zhou brought death to others. There is no ruler who does not hope for loyal ministers, yet loyalty is not always trusted. So Wu Zixu’s body was cast into the river, and Chang Hong died in Shu; the blood he had hidden turned into blue jade three years later. There are no parents who do not hope their children will be filial, yet filial devotion is not always met with affection. Thus Xiaoji was troubled with grief, and Zeng Shen was sorrowful.

When pieces of wood rub against each other, they catch fire; when metal comes near fire, it melts. When the movements of Yin and Yang fall into disorder, Heaven and Earth are greatly shaken. Thunder and lightning then clash, and fire may even arise in water, burning down a great locust tree. When distress is deep, it is as if one is trapped between two sides, with nowhere to flee. The mind is unsettled and cannot find peace. The human heart hangs as though suspended between Heaven and Earth, beset by sorrow and confusion, weighed down and constrained. When gain and loss pull against each other, many fires of anger arise within. The calm within people’s hearts is burned away, and even the moon can no longer suppress the flames. Only by following nature without self-assertion can the Dao be brought to its full expression.

Guo Xiang’s commentary: The consequences of good and evil actions are never certain. Blood hidden away and transformed into blue jade is a sign of utmost sincerity. Loyalty is not always trusted, and filial devotion is not always met with affection. Therefore, the Perfected Person holds no fixed opinions, follows external things, and acts in step with change. The great shaking of Heaven and Earth describes the disorderly movement of Yin and Yang. If one cannot forget one’s own body, one will be drawn into sorrow or joy by whatever one encounters, and neither advancing nor withdrawing will be appropriate. The more stubbornly one asserts oneself, the harder one’s circumstances become, and the less one knows what to hold fast to. “The heart hangs suspended” means that the mind aspires wholly to what is lofty and distant. When troubled and confused, one cannot be still and peaceful, open and at ease. Fire in the heart means inner agitation. Let go of profit, and the heart can be at peace; keep gain and loss in mind, and that peace will be burned away. A broad but dim heart is burdened by many entanglements; a narrow but perceptive heart knows its own limits. Only by following nature without self-assertion, forgetting the body and finding ease in oneself, can the Dao be brought to its full expression.

Lü’s commentary: Whatever does not belong to the innate substance of nature and life is an external thing, and so cannot be forced to come our way. Guan Longfeng and Bi Gan treated benevolence and righteousness as things they could rely on to ensure their safety. E Lai, Jie, and Zhou treated lack of benevolence as something they could rely on to ensure their safety. Yet none of them escaped calamity. If one does not let good and evil stain one’s outward reputation and conduct, what is there to pursue so stubbornly? External things cannot be forced to come our way, and this applies not only to other people but to oneself as well. Rulers and parents all hope for loyalty and filial devotion from their ministers and children, yet loyalty is not always trusted, and filial devotion is not always met with affection. Their hope for loyal ministers and filial children is a desire within their own hearts. Perhaps this is because the Dao has not yet reached the state of following nature without self-assertion…

Even when the outcome of a matter is in your own hands, you are still constrained by external things and cannot be sure it will turn out as you wish. How much less so when the outcome lies in someone else’s hands?

Wu Zixu, Chang Hong, and others devoted themselves to realizing their hopes through other people. In the end, they died in grief and indignation; legend even says their blood turned into green jade. They were loyal to the utmost, yet still could not be sure that those to whom they pledged their loyalty would accept it. Is that not tragic?

When wood rubs against wood, it makes fire; even things of the same kind inevitably harm one another. When metal comes near fire, it melts; even things of different kinds inevitably harm one another. When the movements of Yin and Yang fall into disorder, the “great thief” described below has nowhere to escape within Heaven and Earth: thunder crashes, and lightning flashes. Sometimes it harms things of a different kind, sometimes things of its own kind. Even water can give rise to fire, which burns the locust tree; the moon’s clear light is not enough to overcome this fire that burns all things and damages the harmony of Qi.

To have a body is to be vulnerable to great troubles. How, then, could one be free of worry? At times we are entangled by things like ourselves, and at times by things unlike ourselves. Both can leave us trapped, unable to fulfill what we desire in our hearts. The heart seems suspended between Heaven and Earth, weighed down by gloom and unable to find release. It is like a time when Yin and Yang move in disorder and Heaven and Earth are closed off from one another: benefit and harm collide, giving rise to many fires, as well as thunder and lightning, and water and fire burning the locust tree. Even if human nature is as clear as moonlight, it cannot overcome the fire that destroys harmony. All this arises from clinging to external things with the heart. If we can let go of attachment and allow the heart to follow its own nature, reaching a state of no-mind, then the principle has been fully explained.

The Commentary of Yidu says: “Matters within oneself can be cultivated according to principle; matters belonging to external things are governed by fate. There are ways to cultivate principle, but no principle that can guarantee the outcome of fate. External things cannot be forced; the key is to recognize that events have an aspect governed by fate. A minister can be loyal, and children can be filial: these are within their power. Whether their loyalty or filial devotion wins the approval of a ruler or parent, however, depends on someone else. Although external things cannot be forced, one must still do one’s utmost in what lies within one’s power. Long Feng and Xiao Ji are examples of people who were loyal or filial yet were not understood by their rulers or parents. They not only failed to gain trust and affection, but were ultimately killed and left in sorrow and grief. This shows that the outcome cannot be guaranteed. The noble person need only cultivate what is within their own charge and wait to see how Heaven’s mandate is arranged.”

When wood rubs against wood, it makes fire; when fire reaches metal, the metal melts. Fire does not spare wood because wood is its source, and metal does not lose its nature when it melts and disperses. The sage follows Yin and Yang to govern Heaven and Earth. When Yin and Yang are in harmony, Heaven and Earth are open and unobstructed, and wind and rain arrive in season. When Yin and Yang are blocked, thunder and lightning strike fiercely, and water and fire burn the locust tree. Water should put out fire, yet here it gives rise to fire that burns the locust tree.

Lightning and flashes of fire illustrate this condition. The sage faces fate without being governed by changes in Yin-Yang, and has neither sorrow nor joy in the heart. Ordinary people, by contrast, are often constrained by external things: the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) become a source of harm, and Yin-Yang becomes an enemy. Trapped in sorrow and joy, they cannot free themselves. When the mind is tangled in doubt, things are hard to accomplish. When all goes well, they feel comforted; when it does not, they are frustrated. They become absorbed in whatever situation they encounter and meet obstacles at every turn whenever they engage with things. Gains and losses, benefits and harms mingle in the mind and batter it repeatedly. The heart grows feverish, as if set ablaze, burning away its calm; one’s nature can no longer remain whole.

The moon symbolizes the Yin of Heaven, while fire symbolizes human Yang. When human desires blaze, the principles of Heaven are diminished; this is what is meant by “the moon cannot overcome fire.” Disorder in Yin-Yang and the Five Phases is brought on by people’s desires and aversions. Only those who can transcend and forget the body, and stand outside gain and loss, benefit and harm, may be said to have fully realized the Dao (the Way).

Bixu’s commentary says: The Dao rests within the heart, while events take place outside. Even matters over which we have control do not always go as we wish; how much less can we control external things? If benevolent and righteous conduct were sure to bring good results, Boyi and Shuqi would not have starved to death. If wisdom could safeguard a person, Bi Gan would not have had his heart cut out. If loyalty were always rewarded, Wu Zixu and Chang Hong would not have been killed. This shows that the loyal and worthy, no less than the treacherous, may fall into calamity and find it hard to escape.

“Green” is the color of sorrow. The heart governs the blood; when loyal ministers grieve for their country, it is as if the color of their blood turns blue-green. Wu Zixu and Chang Hong knew that they should serve their ruler loyally, but did not know that going against his wishes would bring disaster. Xia Ji and Zeng Shen knew that they should serve their parents with filial devotion, but did not know that their parents might suspect them and cause them distress. None of them understood that external things are not necessarily within human control.

E Lai obeyed King Zhou of Shang and joined him in wrongdoing, yet in the end could not escape calamity—like wood rubbing against wood. Guan Longfeng opposed King Zhou and had a character unlike his, yet he too was killed—like metal and fire pressing against one another. When the workings of Yin-Yang fall into disorder, great changes occur in Heaven and Earth. When loyal ministers and filial children are punished and harmed, the state too is brought to ruin. Loyalty and filial devotion are duties that ministers and children ought to fulfill. Yet if they happen to encounter a benighted ruler or an obstinate father who acts against all reason and with brutal disregard for the Dao, it is as though fire were found in water, or even a great locust tree were set ablaze. The Huainanzi says, “An old locust tree gives birth to fire,” referring to just such an unnatural condition.

When a loyal minister remonstrates, calamity may fall on him; when a treacherous minister flatters, calamity may instead fall on the ruler. Both become entangled in the harms that arise from taking action, and so live in fear and unease, unable to realize their wishes. They hope to fulfill their ambitions between Heaven and Earth, but encounter a corrupt age in which those above and below are both thrown into disorder. As a result, they are suppressed and constrained, unable to make use of their abilities. The loyal minister and the treacherous minister come into conflict, and their resentment grows ever more intense.

The peaceful Qi in the human heart has been burned away. The sincerity of loyalty and filial piety is like the moon, while a cruel and violent nature is like a raging fire; the moon cannot overcome the fire. Only those who follow their nature, act without calculation, and remain utterly yielding can be said to have brought the Way of loyalty and filial piety to its fullest expression.

The Kouyi of the Yanzhai says: In the times of Jie and Zhou, both the worthy and the unworthy could fall victim to disaster. This shows that loyalty and filial piety do not necessarily protect a person from misfortune. Chang Hong was exiled back to Shu and disemboweled. The people of Shu kept his blood in a chest, and after three years it turned into jade. Emperor Yuan of Jin used the failure of grain shipments as a pretext to kill one of his ministers; the minister’s blood flowed upward along a pillar. Qi killed Hulü Guang over the “prophecy of the Bright Moon,” and his blood remained on the ground, impossible to wash away. These events all belong to the same category. Xia Ji and Zeng Shen, too, suffered harm because of their filial piety. This shows that loyalty and filial piety cannot guarantee a person’s safety.

Wood contains no fire, yet rubbing it can produce fire. Metal is hard, yet it melts in fire. These examples all show how difficult it is to predict how things will change. During violent thunderstorms, trees are sometimes burned down; these are disasters caused by disorder in the movement of Yin-Yang. “Caught in both” means that people are trapped by changes in Yin-Yang, their hearts anxious and unsettled, as if suspended and bound. They bring suffering upon themselves, becoming troubled and oppressed. Gain and loss, benefit and harm struggle within them, and the heat that builds up burns like fire, consuming the peace in their hearts. Human nature is originally like the moon, but when it is scorched by desires for things, its original nature can no longer prevail over them. “At ease” describes being relaxed and making no deliberate effort with the mind. To say that the Way has reached its end means that the principles of Heaven have been exhausted until they disappear completely.

The Guanjian of Master Chu says: When people place too much value on external things, their inner lives become shallow. When they acquire such things, they think little of them; when they lose them, they suffer. The world’s wealth and rank, fame and slander, praise and blame, success and failure, gain and loss are not part of a person’s original nature and life. They are all external things. Yet worldly people treat them as real and important, even laying down their lives for them, without understanding why. This is because what society values at any given time is nothing more than profit and fame; blame and praise, honor and disgrace follow in their wake. Those with insight know that pursuing profit brings stain and so disdain the pursuit. Yet they admire fame and hope to use it to raise their own standing. The finest kind of fame is loyalty and filial piety, because these can keep rulers and parents from wrongdoing and help bring peace to the state and flourishing to its moral instruction.

If the customs of high antiquity were simple and unspoiled, with rulers following their nature like branches at the tops of trees and the people living freely like wild deer, how could anyone offend the ruler or anger the powerful? How could there be punishments involving the saw, the chopping block, or the cauldron? If a minister happened to serve a tyrant who violated all norms and killed people arbitrarily, it would be like a time when Yin-Yang was in disorder and thunderbolts struck wildly. It is precisely in such circumstances that a loyal minister’s loyalty becomes manifest…

A son who is unfortunate enough to have a cruel father is driven into hardship and homelessness. This is like fire hidden in water; in the end, the time comes when the locust wood is burned. Only after this does his reputation for filial piety spread.

Locust wood is bright yellow, so it serves as a metaphor for a balanced nature. Wood can be twisted and squeezed until water comes out, or drilled until fire is produced; it possesses both Yin and Yang qualities. Fire hidden in water means Yang Qi has intruded into a Yin position. When the fire then burns the locust wood, Yang Qi has become excessive. How could the Qi of balance and harmony remain unharmed?

The human body, for example, is formed from Yin and Yang Qi and sustained by the Qi of harmony. When it is disturbed by external things, it becomes entangled with them, and its inner Qi is thrown into turmoil. Emotions such as joy and anger grow extreme; Yin and Yang struggle against each other, and the Qi of harmony steadily diminishes. External malign influences then take advantage of this weakness and enter. How can a tree without roots endure for long?

The phrase “trapped on both sides” refers to a person who must serve a ruler and care for parents outwardly, while cultivating the body and nurturing life inwardly, and who cannot escape hardship in either sphere. The mind and spirit are pressed by fear, and one’s aims cannot be fulfilled, as though suspended between Heaven and Earth with nowhere to seek release. The character wei is difficult to explain. Some understand it through a pronunciation shared with yu, “to accumulate,” which makes the sense clearer: worries pile up, and desires grow deep. The point here is that a person has become too deeply constrained by external things. Conflicting gains and losses kindle an inner fire that attacks the self, burning away the Qi of harmony; thus affliction arises.

Yin-Yang Qi moves through the vast Great Void and is originally formless. Yet its changes, whether expansive or stagnant, respond to and become manifest through a person’s joy and anger. Alas, human beings are endowed with such great spiritual sensitivity—how could they fail to cherish themselves?

Consider the moon and fire as another comparison. The moon’s light is broad, yet it often wanes and is less often full; this is the way of Heaven. Fire gives off little light, yet when people add fuel, it burns ever more fiercely. The Dao of Heaven shuns fullness: when things reach their utmost, they readily decline; after declining, they readily recover. People, however, delight in flourishing, and when flourishing reaches its height, decline readily follows. The moon represents the principle of Heaven, while fire represents human desire. When human desire becomes excessive, the principle of Heaven is obscured.

After the moon is full, it wanes; this is an enduring pattern. After waning, it becomes full again, and its light is not thereby diminished. When fire rages, it can consume the fields and light up the sky; once the fuel is spent, in the end only ashes remain.

Some ministers or children in this world devote themselves wholeheartedly to their duties, yet suffer hardship. In this way they earn a reputation for loyalty or filial piety, while those who abuse them hasten toward ruin. This is like the human body’s inability to withstand violent power, even though reason ultimately prevails over violence; it is also like the moon’s form being unable to withstand fire, even though moonlight ultimately prevails over firelight.

Alas, the achievement of a reputation for loyalty and filial piety comes through the misfortune of ministers and children. The Daodejing says, “Only when the six relationships are out of harmony do filial piety and parental kindness become evident; only when the state is in disorder do loyal ministers appear.” Given this, how should one…

When settling oneself, one need only follow nature and let the mind become empty and still. Then one can forget artificial embellishments and reach a state of accord with the Dao. Once one has forgotten oneself and can respond to the transformations of all things, what cause would there be to fear life’s fire burning away or the original harmony being damaged?

Zhuang Zhou’s family was poor, so he went to borrow grain from the Marquis of Jianhe. The marquis said, “Certainly. When I receive the taxes from my fief, I’ll lend you three hundred gold pieces. Will that do?” Zhuang Zhou’s face darkened. “Yesterday, as I was coming here, I heard someone calling for help along the road. I turned around and saw a crucian carp in a wheel rut. I asked it, ‘Carp, what has happened to you?’ It replied, ‘I am an official of the waters in the Eastern Sea. Could you give me a little water so I can stay alive?’ I said, ‘Certainly. I’ll go south and persuade the kings of Wu and Yue to divert the waters of the Western River to meet you. Will that do?’ The carp replied angrily, ‘I’ve lost the water I live in and have nowhere to go. Right now, a little water would be enough to keep me alive. Instead, you say all this. You might as well come looking for me at the dried-fish shop!’”

Master Ren used a great fishhook and a thick black line, with fifty castrated oxen for bait. Perched on Mount Kuaiji, he cast his hook into the Eastern Sea. He fished day after day for a whole year without catching anything. At last, a huge fish swallowed the hook and dragged the line down into the depths. It sprang above the surface, thrashing its fins with all its strength; the white waves it raised towered like mountains, and the sea churned with a sound like spirits and ghosts crying out. For a thousand li around, all were shaken. Master Ren caught the great fish, cut it up, and dried it. From east of Zhejiang to north of Cangwu, everyone ate their fill of it.

Later, those with narrow understanding, who could speak only of small truths, were astonished and told the story to one another. Those who hold bamboo rods and fine lines, waiting beside ditches and canals for small fish, will find it hard to catch a great one. And those who polish trivial arguments in the hope of winning a ruler’s favor are far from grasping the Great Dao. For this reason, anyone who has never heard of the way Master Ren followed will find it hard to take on the weighty task of governing the world.

Guo Xiang’s commentary on the Zhuangzi says that the parable of borrowing grain from the Marquis of Jianhe shows that even a small thing is meaningful if it accords with the circumstances; if it is mistimed, what use is something, however great? The chapter on Master Ren’s fishing shows that people have different aims, and that governing the world calls for methods suited to each situation.

Lü Huiqing’s commentary on the Zhuangzi says that the story of borrowing grain teaches that, in caring for life, it is enough to preserve it; one need not seek abundance. The story of Master Ren’s fishing teaches that in governing the world one should aspire to accomplish great things, rather than seek only immediate results.

Mr. Yidu’s commentary says that when helping others in an emergency, one must arrive in time. Although the Marquis of Jianhe promised to lend Zhuang Zhou money after receiving the taxes from his fief, by then it would already be too late to help. Zhuang Zhou therefore used this story to make the point…

Through the story of “the fish stranded in a dried-up rut,” Zhuangzi mocks those who fail to understand the urgency of his own predicament—just as Zhuangzi himself failed to understand the little crucian carp’s desperate plight. Trapped in a dry groove left by a cart wheel, the fish needs water at once to survive. By the time someone brings river water from afar, it will probably be too late.

The young lord Ren of the state of Ren made a huge fishhook and a thick line, intending to catch a great fish. He had lofty ambitions. Though it took a long time to get a result, he finally caught a great fish and astonished the world. People competed to tell the tale. Here, the great fish stands for someone who accomplishes a great undertaking: once such a person acts, the whole world can benefit from his generosity, and his reputation can endure for generations. The ancient figures Yi Yin and Taigong Wang were such people. Small fish and minor county officials, by contrast, are of no interest to those who pursue great undertakings.

Bixuzi’s commentary says that what is close and familiar in daily life is like fish and water: once the water is gone, the fish has nowhere to live. People need clothes when they are cold and food when they are hungry. If one waits until the river is rushing in to save a little fish in a cart rut, will that not be too late? It is like trying to save a starving tiger: bringing out a thousand gold pieces is less useful than giving it a pig’s leg in time.

The young lord Ren made a great fishhook and prepared a thick line, waiting a year before he caught a great fish. Those who could only weigh people’s abilities and discuss affairs heard of it, found it extraordinary, and passed the story among themselves. The commentators hold that the story means people of shallow learning are not suited to discussing the great undertaking of governing the world.

“Reinforced rod and line” refers to a fishing rod made of thorn bamboo and a fishing line made of silk. “Raise up” is written with the character for “hang”; it means to elevate and make known, and can also refer to a lofty reputation or good name. In Yanzhai’s commentary, “rent from an enfeoffed estate” means the taxes collected from a fief; “minister of the waves” means a subject of the waters, and by extension a fish; “usual companions” means those with whom one ordinarily associates; “weighing” means assessing people’s abilities; “line” means a small cord; and “hang” can also mean to display or proclaim. “Orders” here refers to a reward schedule or set of regulations. How much can one gain by using rumors to curry favor with one’s superiors? The character for “common” should be joined to the following sentence, where it refers to worldly-minded people.

In the Shuoyuan, “Marquis Jian of the River” appears as “Marquis Wen of Wei.” Older editions read “say” with the departing tone, but the sense of the passage suggests it should be “alas,” an expression of lament. “Fu” is a crucian carp, while “ji” is also the name of a fish. Earlier commentators explained “minister of the waves” as “a minister tossed about by the waves,” or identified him as the king of Wu and Yue; neither explanation is easy to make sense of. Bixuzi’s interpretation is that the waters of the Wu and Yue region converge, and the ruler of the waters is like the rivers and seas, which rule over all streams. Zhang Junfang’s edited text adds the character for “say” after “swim,” but that interpretation is also awkward. Taken together, the meaning of the passage and the textual evidence suggest roughly the explanation given above.

The character “yuan” should be read as “tu”; the extra stroke above it was added by mistake. This explanation is quite clear.

The general meaning of this passage is that a person is within the Dao, just as a fish lives in water, and cannot leave it even for a moment. If someone loses the Dao within themselves and tries to borrow it from external things, that is like relying on the small amount of grain in the fief of the Marquis of the River to meet an urgent need. How could it possibly be enough?

A large fishhook and a thick line are metaphors for using substantial tools and therefore reaping abundant results. The character “lei” should be read as “luolun,” meaning the cord used to tie a fish. The character “feng” is a colloquial form and unnecessary; it was written by mistake. The point here is that when someone abides in the Dao over a long period, its effects take time to appear, and cannot be expected immediately. Once their cultivation has matured and is put into practice, its beneficence will extend to all things. How could it stop at the lands east of the Zhe River and north of Cangwu?

The four characters “the crucian carp grew angry and changed color” were written by mistake and are a needless repetition. “Xian” should be read with a level tone. Of the interpretations of fame and reputation, this one is the most appropriate.

Collected Subtle Commentaries on the True Classic of Southern Florescence, juan 87