《南華真經義海纂微》Vol. 87

Huizi said to Zhuangzi, “Everything you say is useless.” Zhuangzi replied, “Only someone who understands what ‘useless’ means can be told what ‘useful’ means. The earth is vast, but all a person makes use of is the small patch where their feet stand. If all the ground beyond that patch were dug away to the depths of the Yellow Springs, would the ground beneath their feet still be useful?” Huizi said, “Of course not.” Zhuangzi said, “Then the use of what is useless should be clear.”

Zhuangzi said, “If people are able to roam through the world, must they refuse to roam? If they are unable to roam through the world, must they force themselves to do so? Those whose resolve is unyielding and whose actions are decisive—ah, can anyone bear to act this way without the highest insight and deepest De? Even when their circumstances are overturned and they fall, they do not turn back; even when they race forward like a flame, they spare no thought for themselves. Even if they were once bound to one another as ruler and subject, they will not look down on each other when the age has changed. Thus the Perfect Person does not cling to a fixed code of conduct. Revering antiquity and slighting the present is a habit of ordinary scholars. If we were to judge the present by the age of Xiwei, a legendary ruler of remote antiquity, who in the world could avoid being swept along by the times? Only the Perfect Person can roam through the world without becoming eccentric, and respond to others without losing himself. When others teach him, he does not set out to learn; when they express their intentions, he receives them in stride, without being ruled by them.”

Guo Xiang’s commentary: When something stirs within, one speaks in response to what is at hand. Speech issues from within to make the principles of a matter clear. When feelings and reason are expressed fluently, the matter can be communicated; when the outward principle is clear, its inward function becomes apparent. The inner and outer depend on each other: this is the principle at work. What one’s nature enables one to do cannot simply be left undone; what one’s nature cannot do cannot be forced. As long as people are not controlled by external things, each can find their proper place, though they do not know why they are able to do so. If their De is not deep enough, they cannot bear their own particular aims and actions, or trust that each person truly has different abilities. People each have their own preferences; they do not shy away from questions of right and wrong, and may even pledge themselves to one another unto death. Even when the age changes, they do not look down on one another. This is what it means to regard all things as equal. A person should respond only to what they encounter and act according to the circumstances. Scholars who can move with change yet revere antiquity and slight the present have lost their foundation. Responding to the times and adapting to things can dispel fixation. To deal with matters as the situation requires is to be in the right place. Since there is no fixed “self” to begin with, what is there to lose? Teaching should accord with the other person’s nature; it should not make them learn one’s own intentions. Receive things and put them to use spontaneously, and all things can preserve their own nature.

Lü’s commentary: The common view is that those with knowledge and ability are useful, while those without knowledge and ability are useless. It fails to see that what is useless is precisely the source from which usefulness arises. From the standpoint of the Dao, what the world calls knowledgeable, capable, and useful… [The original text ends here.]

How small is it? Is it merely the patch of ground where the sole of a foot lands? The Liezi says: “Those who truly roam in the Dao do not know where they are going; those who truly contemplate the Dao do not know what they are looking at. All things roam within the Dao, and all things contemplate the Dao. This is what I mean by ‘roaming’ and ‘contemplating.’”

Zhuangzi’s “roaming” means no more than this. Those who have attained the Dao see that nothing among the myriad things is not the Dao. Thus all things roam in the Dao and contemplate the Dao; even if they wished not to roam, they could not help it. Those who have not attained the Dao cannot roam in the Dao, even if they wish to.

Those wholly intent on withdrawing from the world follow conventional ideas and mistake lowliness for humility. Those firmly resolved to sever all ties with worldly affairs leave human society and mistake aloofness for transcendence. Neither course is something people of supreme wisdom and deep De can undertake. Blinded by one-sided views, they will ultimately topple and fall. Like a chariot racing blindly forward without looking back, even if such people become ruler and subject to one another, their relationship is only temporary. When the age changes, they no longer look down on one another. In this respect, both courses are equally at odds with the Dao.

People of supreme wisdom and deep De do not withdraw from the world in the name of humility, nor sever ties with human affairs in the name of aloofness. They simply follow the Dao. Thus the Perfected Person, one who has reached the state of the Dao, does not become trapped in rigid conduct, and leaves no trace of deliberate action. If one exalts antiquity and disparages the present, then, looking from the age of Xiwei—the legendary ancient ruler—at the decadence of the present age, who could remain calm and unmoved? Only the Perfected Person can live among people without acting in an extreme or eccentric way: outwardly adapting to others while inwardly remaining true to himself. To guide someone by following their circumstances is not to imitate them; to understand their intentions and respond in step with them does not mean agreeing with them. What is taught is what the other person already possesses, not something forcibly imposed that they never had. If one cannot understand the hearts of people everywhere, distinctions arise between “the other” and “this.” But if one can understand another’s intentions and respond in step with them, where is there any division between self and other? This is the realm in which the Perfected Person roams.

The commentary by Yidu says: “The use of what is useful” refers to the function of objects; “the use of what is useless” refers to the function of the Dao. The function of objects is limited, while the function of the Dao is inexhaustible. Zhuangzi spoke about the Dao in broad and expansive terms, so Huizi suspected that it was useless. Zhuangzi told him that only by understanding the use of what is “useless” can one speak of genuine usefulness. For example, when walking across a vast expanse of land, one uses only enough ground to hold a foot. But if all the ground beyond that space were removed, one would fear falling or drowning and dare not take a step. This shows that what seems useless also has its use. The same idea appears in the Free and Easy Wandering, in its discussion of the great tree and the enormous gourd.

“Roaming” means moving about freely, without obstruction. Everyone has an innate capacity for freedom; whether one can realize it depends on whether one learns. Through learning, one can return to the root and roam freely. Even without deliberately seeking anything outside oneself…

To contemplate the myriad things and remain at ease wherever one goes: this is true wandering. Without learning, one is obscured by external things; even if one spends the whole day observing outward, one still cannot be at ease. Those who drift with the current and follow things along pursue only what is outside and never turn back. Those who withdraw from the world focus entirely on guarding against misfortune and refuse to move forward. Those who are resolute act at the slightest impulse. Those who sever themselves from worldly affairs try to erase every trace of their presence. All these approaches cling to one side. Take them for wisdom, and something will remain unclear; take them for virtue, and something will prove too much to bear.

Thus, vital energy sinking downward and the mind racing like fire both result from people following different paths without knowing to turn back. The things people of a given age esteem take turns becoming dominant. They are like ruler and subject to one another, so what grounds are there for calling one high and another low? The Perfected Person, whose state is lofty and who follows nature, simply responds to change, meeting each circumstance by going along with its course and never becoming fixed in one place. The Inner Chapters of the Zhuangzi say, “If he is a baby, then I too will be a baby with him.” That is what this means.

Bixu, the commentator, says: People often regard the ground they can walk on as useful, thinking that all the rest is useless. But if the ground were dug away and lowered until only a space just large enough for one foot remained, a person could not take even a single step. Planting works the same way: enough open ground must be left for plants and trees to flourish. This shows that what seems useless can also serve a purpose.

If someone can wander and learn freely within the Dao, following their natural disposition, how could they be forced to stop wandering and learning? If they cannot wander and learn within the Dao, and this too arises from their natural disposition, how could they be forced to do so? People do not understand their own endowments and limits. They make themselves rush about and drift aimlessly, or resolve to flee the world, or act decisively and pursue what is extraordinary, treating deliberate displays of lofty ideals as virtue. None of this can be grounded in far-reaching wisdom or deep virtue.

Here, “sinking downward” means neglecting one’s work by not wandering and learning; “racing like fire” means laboring at study and single-mindedly seeking advancement. People each pursue what they like without turning back to examine themselves. It is merely that the fashions of the age take turns becoming dominant. What distinction of high and low is there? Only the Perfected Person advances and withdraws in accord with the Dao, each acting according to their own nature. Those who seek learning, however, often value distant things and disregard what is close at hand. This failing has a long history.

From the perspective of the sages of ancient times, almost everyone in the world today drifts with the current and loses their true nature. The Perfected Person responds to the world’s waxing and waning: outwardly, they adapt to things; inwardly, they preserve their true nature. The teachings the world imparts need not always be learned in exactly the same way. Yet the Perfected Person can still receive another person’s intent and go along with the circumstances in living alongside them, without treating that person as an alien Other. In this way, they preserve themselves in the world. This is called “being able to wander.”

“Digging a hollow” means lowering the ground by excavating it. If there is only a small foothold beneath one’s feet and a deep abyss all around, it becomes impossible to walk. Thus, “the use of what seems useless” means wandering freely in places that appear useless, where there is a sense of ease and contentment.

Some people are capable of achievement, while others are not; it is like some being adept and others inept. Those with shallow understanding, little De (Virtue), and an inability to follow nature are often swept along by worldly affairs and caught up in them. They rush about like fire, chasing fame and profit, never turning back to reflect on themselves. Though distinctions between ruler and subject, noble and lowly may exist for a time, what remains noble or lowly once life has ended?

Only the Perfected Person, one who has attained the Dao, acts without attachment to the secular world. People of the past and the present have always been in a state of change and flux. Yet those who study revere antiquity and look down on the present, failing to understand that the ways of the world change. If we judge today by the conditions of high antiquity, would not everyone living now be someone who has been swept along and lost their original nature?

To live in the world without taking an eccentric or perverse path is to avoid clinging to judgments about who is right or wrong, past or present. One can go along with others without losing one’s own original mind, engaging with the world outwardly while holding firm inwardly. Others may teach a principle and believe it to be correct; I may choose not to learn it, yet still go along with them in our dealings, without setting us against one another. This is the meaning of “following what is so” in the “Treatise on the Equality of Things.”

To wander in what is useless is to roam at ease in places that seem useless, thereby preserving one’s true, great usefulness. Only someone who has attained the Dao can do this. Those capable of it need not avoid such wandering; those who are not capable cannot force themselves to achieve it. People of the world often chase external things and let themselves be swept along. If they do not, they may veer toward the opposite extreme of cutting themselves off from human ties, deliberately becoming severe, affected, and arrogant, and so lose their freedom. They regard the human world as a cauldron for execution or a pitfall; some even sink themselves in water with stones tied to their bodies or burn themselves while clutching wood. How could such people speak of wandering freely? These are not the paths followed by those of broad understanding and deep De.

Such people are often driven to and fro, chasing fame and profit in hopes of consoling their hearts. Even if distinctions between ruler and subject, noble and lowly exist for a time, when circumstances change, there is no longer any basis for one to be esteemed above the other. Only the Dao is truly honored under Heaven. Those who turn away from the Dao cannot win the respect of the world.

Thus, the Perfected Person lets the myriad things follow their natural course, placing no obstruction in their way, and wanders with them in the primordial Qi of Heaven and Earth. The principles of the past and present are constant. If I can transform external things, I can make the present as it was in antiquity. How can one hear much about the events of ancient times, then look down on the present one sees with one’s own eyes and presume to rank them? Besides, if we judge the present by the standards of high antiquity, who is not someone swept along by the current? To keep the mind free of attachment to past and present, live in the world without deliberately acting in eccentric ways, and go along with others without losing oneself: this is what is meant here.

When the intentions of all people can become my own, my heart is able to understand things fully. This is called “returning to the present and becoming ancient”: returning to the state of the ancients while also understanding the affairs of today.

What is noble, and what is humble? When Confucius answered Ran Qiu, he said that ancient times and the present are no different. That is what he meant. So when teaching those who come to study, teach in accord with their nature; do not teach them what they cannot bear. Understand and accommodate their intentions; do not treat them as outsiders. In this way, the past and present, things outside oneself and the self, can all roam together within the Dao. Even if separated by ten thousand years, ten thousand miles, or ten thousand kinds of people, it is as though they shared a hall and sat together under the Master of the Lacquer Garden—Zhuangzi—and shared a love of the Dao of the Yellow Emperor and Lao Dan. This describes how a perfected person, one who has attained the state of the Dao, responds to the affairs of the world: the perfected person does not roam in the Dao alone, but with all things. Thus, they can penetrate the ways practiced by rulers throughout history, connect with all ages, and attain a state of pure unity.

When the eyes are unobstructed, this is called clarity; when the ears are unobstructed, this is called acuity; when the nose is unobstructed, this is called sensitivity; when the mouth and tongue are unobstructed, they can taste what is sweet and delicious. When the heart is unobstructed, there is awareness; when awareness is unobstructed, De (Virtue/Power) is realized. Nothing that belongs to the Dao should be blocked. Once blocked, it becomes stifled and cannot flow; if this continues, things will trample over one another, and many troubles will follow.

Living creatures depend on breath to survive. If their breath is not abundant and free-flowing, this is not Heaven’s fault. Heaven opens their apertures without rest, day or night, yet people do the opposite and block their own apertures. The body’s bao—the open space between chest and abdomen—is spacious, and the heart, too, has a natural realm in which to roam. This “Heavenly Roaming” means that the heart and spirit follow the Dao without constraint. When a house has no open space, mothers-in-law and daughters-in-law quarrel; when the heart has no Heavenly Roaming, the six apertures—the sensory openings, such as the eyes, ears, nose, and mouth—compete with and repel one another.

The great forests, hills, and mountains benefit people in part because they contain a wondrous vitality. Yet when one’s De exceeds what one’s reputation can contain, it spills over into reputation; when reputation becomes excessive, it appears boastful. When plans become rushed and pressing, wisdom arises from contention. Firewood comes from holding office and clinging to one’s duties; affairs are carried out by catering to what people in general recognize as necessary. When spring rain falls at the proper time, plants and trees flourish, and people begin to sharpen their hoes and weeders. More than half the plants are then hoed down or pulled up, yet people do not know why this happens.

Guo Xiang’s Commentary: When what should be open is blocked, the underlying principle cannot unfold, and things consequently trample over one another. Whatever grows naturally can sustain its breath even without awareness. “Yin” means abundant. Breath is not sustained by awareness; once awareness arises, one may instead lose the proper state. When that state is lost, breath no longer flows freely. Awareness therefore depends on breath to exist, but breath does not depend on awareness. When awareness tries to control the movement of breath, it creates constraint. “Human” is not a mark that Heaven has set down out of necessity. The principle of Heaven has a constant course: it acts without feeling and lets things be natural. When one follows Heaven’s course, the apertures remain open and the heart becomes spacious, undisturbed by quarrels, competition, or resistance. The principle of nature sometimes appears and finds expression through things. The higher one’s reputation, the greater the benefits one is likely to gain; when cultivating De goes beyond what is appropriate, it… (The original text ends here.)

Making plans and calculations about matters that have already been settled cannot truly be effective. When wisdom is blocked, it too loses its usefulness. What suits each person differs, and so offices and duties are established. Everything comes into being for a reason, and events unfold according to their inherent patterns, though people often fail to notice.

Lü’s commentary says that if a person’s ears, eyes, nose, and mouth are not blocked by sounds, colors, smells, and tastes, they can remain alert and perceptive, distinguish sounds and tastes, and gain understanding. When these senses are obstructed, the flow of Qi (vital energy) becomes blocked. If the blockage grows severe, people collide with one another, while thoughts of gain and loss struggle within them. How could this fail to bring the calamity of Yin-Yang imbalance and give rise to all kinds of harm?

Every living thing that can perceive is alive while its Qi remains, and dies when its Qi departs. The coming and going of Qi waxes and wanes with the hours of Zi and Wu, following the course of Yin-Yang. It remains connected with primordial Qi, and this happens every day. This is the state in which Heaven and Earth let Qi pass freely, keeping the cycles of day and night in balance. Yet people block the openings of their senses with sounds, colors, smells, and tastes, preventing Qi from flowing through; their life energy then gradually declines.

When people are calm and detached, with an empty and quiet mind free of desire, their true Qi flows freely. When the body is upright and still, the harmony of Heaven arrives. In this way, the inner self becomes settled and strong, giving rise to clear Qi that keeps harmful and impure influences from entering. If the mind has a natural freedom to roam and remains at ease in Wuwei (non-action), external things cannot disturb it.

A room must have open space within it to preserve distinctions of rank; otherwise, mothers-in-law and daughters-in-law will quarrel and fall out. The mind, too, must have a realm in which it can roam freely, beyond the dust of the world. Otherwise, the “six openings”—the ears, eyes, nose, mouth, and intellect—will compete and cause turmoil. Those who truly understand this freedom of the mind can live among other people without letting the myriad things disturb them, because their spirit is sufficient to master those things. Why must one go off to the great forests and mountains to find peace?

Those of highest De (Virtue/Power) do not think of themselves as virtuous, and so they have no reputation. Once they acquire a reputation, their De is exposed outwardly instead of remaining within; this, too, is an excess of fame. Excessive fame makes repeated weighing and calculation unavoidable, draws wisdom into rivalry, and forces the mind and spirit to cling and hold fast. Thus, although the things suited to each person take shape, they are blocked by all kinds of impediments: sounds, colors, smells, and tastes obstruct from outside, while thoughts and schemes obstruct from within, keeping the inner and outer worlds from communicating.

Those who cultivate the Dao (the Way) and seek to regulate the mind should begin before it becomes unsettled. It is like preparing hoes and farming tools to tend plants as soon as they begin to grow vigorously.

The commentary by Yidu says that “unobstructed” means flowing through without hindrance. If the ears, eyes, nose, mouth, and intellect—the six faculties—are all unobstructed, they can fully exercise the powers of hearing, sight, smell, taste, and understanding. Whatever they encounter, they can…

To understand this is to return to the root. A person can therefore observe inwardly, listen back to the heart, and then regulate the breath and nourish Qi (vital energy). When the mind’s awareness seeks within, the six sense faculties—the eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind—can be freed from pollution by external things. Only then can one enter the Dao (the Way). If the six faculties cannot function freely, they are obstructed by external things, press against one another, and lead people to despise and harm living beings.

For living beings with awareness, breathing is fundamental. Breath is the coming and going of harmonizing Qi; its root lies in the heart, while the nose is the passage through which it enters and leaves. As stated earlier, the six faculties are most valuable when they function freely, and breath governs them. When a person’s likes and dislikes depart from what is balanced and right, it is because external things have blocked the openings of the heart; Heaven is not at fault. The principles of nature run through all things and continue without pause, day and night, never diminishing. It is people themselves who allow their six senses to turn around and block the openings of the heart.

The ear contains many hollow chambers. These allow it to receive and carry the Qi and fluids that emerge from the five organs. “Wandering in Heaven” uses the image of the heart’s emptiness and freedom from attachments to describe how the Dao arises within the heart. When a mother-in-law and daughter-in-law share a home, a crowded interior can easily lead to disputes over rank. The heart is the same: when many desires crowd in at once and it is not empty, the six openings contend with one another and damage life. If the heart is empty and still, death and life, alarm and fear cannot enter it; wherever one may be, one can remain at ease.

Great forests, hills, and mountains are places where spirits dwell. People know that forests and mountains are beneficial, but do not know that spirits govern them. Spirits dwell in forests and mountains just as the principles of nature dwell in the heart. De (Virtue/Power) is what one naturally receives through one’s original nature. If a person flaunts their reputation, De flows outward. Once De is exposed, people cease to cherish De and turn instead to fame. Striving for fame makes people fierce. “Xian” refers to speaking in haste, while contention is an instrument of danger. Seeking quick success leads to hasty speech; wanting to win leads to conflict; when desires fill the heart, one clings to them. None of this accords with nature.

People do not all need the same things. When government affairs meet people’s needs, they can be carried out decisively. In the spring rains, plants and trees break through the earth and grow. If people rush to use their farm tools before they have fully grown, many plants will be knocked down and planted upside down. Such plants should not be able to grow, yet when spring comes, even those that have fallen will grow again. This is the work of creation, whose cause people do not understand. All of this shows that one should follow the principles of nature.

The commentary by Bixu says: When a person gathers in their gaze, listens inwardly, regulates the breath, swallows fluids to nourish the body, and keeps the heart empty and still so it can hold its function within, the workings of the six senses can all flow freely, reaching the highest subtlety. Otherwise, obstruction and collision follow, the upper and lower become disordered, and various illnesses arise. All animals with awareness…

The six senses—the eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind—depend on the breath to sustain life. When the breath is weak and the senses are obstructed, this is usually caused by craving and wrongdoing, not by any fault of Heaven. Original Qi flows through all things, and the apertures of the human body rise and fall in rhythm with it day and night, without end. But craving blocks these empty passages and makes them stagnant. Where, then, can the mind and spirit find a place to dwell?

Within the body are the Dantian (energy center), the Three Palaces, the Golden Hall, and the Jade Chamber; within the womb are also layers of inner chambers. The heart, too, has an aperture called the “Heavenly Storehouse,” where the spirit and intention roam and rest. When a house is cramped, a mother-in-law and her daughters-in-law are more likely to quarrel; when the aperture of the heart is blocked, desires and ill thoughts likewise fall into disorder. Thus, dense woods are the beauty of hills and mountains, but when the trees are felled, their vitality is diminished. Exceptional intelligence is what makes a scholar valuable, but when that intelligence is put to work, the spirit is depleted. Boasting of one’s reputation harms De (Virtue/Power); an overbearing will harms one’s good name. Planning is best done with depth and calm, while haste leads to superficiality. Wisdom should be restrained and kept within; once displayed amid rivalry, it struggles against external things. If one can stand unmoving like a withered tree and guard oneself, one can avoid harm from the outside world.

In handling public affairs, one should take what everyone considers appropriate as the standard. In private matters, one should decide firmly and take responsibility oneself. When virtue and the body are displayed too openly, reputation and talent are exposed, and rivalry follows. Spring rain nourishes plants and trees, allowing them to grow; once hoes and sickles are taken up to cut them down, they are harmed. When people go against the natural way in seeking to live, they are like plants that turn away from their roots yet still expect their branches and leaves to flourish.

The Yanzhai Kouyi (Yanzhai’s commentary on this passage) says: “Once one grasps the principles of nature and becomes attuned to them, what the ears and eyes perceive becomes true clarity; what the nose and mouth smell and taste becomes true sensation; what the heart knows becomes true knowledge; and one’s conduct becomes true virtue.” “Choked” means obstructed; “traces” refers to footprints. When people encounter an obstruction in the Way, they become entangled in visible traces, and all kinds of calamities arise from this.

Here, “breath” is like the continual vital breath described in the phrase, “The constant renewal of life is called nature.” Everyone receives this life-giving nature; through it, we have perception, so perception depends on the breath. If people act contrary to reason, can this really be because Heaven is unwilling to bestow its gifts? The principle of Heaven manifests in the human body day and night, but people use material desires to block the aperture of the heart. The ears and the membranes of the womb are originally open and clear; when the heart takes the principle of Heaven as its guide and moves freely, this is called “Heavenly roaming.” The cramped house and the quarrel between a mother-in-law and her daughters-in-law serve as an image of the six senses stirring against one another after the heart has been clouded.

People praise vast forests and mountain landscapes because they seem open and natural. Those whose ears and eyes are narrow in daily life cannot preserve the spirit of nature within themselves, and so find it difficult to resist material desires. Pursuing fame and profit causes virtue to dissipate; an irritable and impatient temperament also damages one’s reputation.

Exaggerated and excessive words, like speech that does not match the facts and loses its truth, are both deviations. A string stretched too tight will later produce a sharp, strained sound; clinging to knowledge and schemes will lead to rivalry; holding fast to fixed opinions and refusing to change will lead to obstruction and inner discontent. Those who seek to make everything fit its proper measure easily fall into the fault of rigid inflexibility. It is like a foolish child trying to settle every matter in the government offices, when such matters can never all be settled.

When the spring rain comes, plants and trees flourish. People repair their farming tools and use hoes to pull weeds. Do they mean to harm the plants and trees? They do this to cultivate the land; it is unavoidable. Plants and trees grow naturally, and people naturally pull them out. Once the weeds are removed, the crops that have been planted grow again. This is how destruction brings about growth: achievement is also contained in destruction, and destruction in achievement. From this, we can see that gain and loss, life and death, should all be left to follow their natural course.

The various conditions described from “De overflowing” onward—when one’s thoughts and intentions reach out excessively—are all faults caused by attachment. If one can be free of such clinging, one can attain “Heavenly Wandering,” a state in which the mind is empty, still, at ease, and in accord with nature.

When the ears, eyes, nose, mouth, and mind can communicate with one another without hindrance, this is the virtue made possible by “thorough understanding.” If De does not run through them, all five will become blocked together. When the sensory openings are obstructed, desires for things stir and race about, bringing many harms.

Living beings breathe so that Qi can flow freely through the whole body and mingle with the harmonious Qi of Heaven and Earth. As the breath rises and falls, the body is nourished; thus it can endure without decline and may even grow stronger in old age. This is precisely the principle advocated by those who cultivate life today. But if one fails to nourish the root and instead undertakes actions that obstruct the flow of Qi, this goes against the principle of circulating with the primordial Qi of Heaven and Earth—the fundamental Qi between Heaven and Earth. Primordial Qi runs through all things and moves without pause. Life declines because people themselves use their six senses and bodily activities to block the pathways through which breath enters and leaves.

Animals rely on breathing, while plants rely on their roots; these are the roots by which they receive breath and sustain life. “Womb” refers to the cavities within the body. “Layered hollowness” means that the human body takes shape out of emptiness, while its interior also contains the hollow spaces of the five organs, through which breath and bodily fluids circulate. “Heavenly Wandering” means that when the mind can be empty and still, one can feel at ease wherever one goes.

If the inside of a house is not spacious, people of higher and lower rank are prone to clash. If the mind is not empty and still, desires and aversions contend with one another. My house and my mind each have a master; how, then, could external things disturb them?

Great forests, hills, and rivers bring people pleasure because the surroundings they usually see are narrow and mean. When they suddenly encounter a scene that is spacious, lofty, bright, and open, their hearts naturally rejoice. Yet this is really a case of the spirit failing to master external things and instead being controlled by them. Mountains and forests, lakes and marshes, and open plains make me…

Joy in the heart has barely run its course when sorrow follows. This is because all things in the world change unseen, and events inevitably reach this point in their development. Only the “Perfected Person,” one who has attained a lofty state, does not rely on external things for happiness, and so does not grieve when things change. Such people can settle themselves and transform external things without being led about by them.

But can things truly make a person good? Is the pleasure people take in external things truly a joy that comes from within? When the heart is consumed by desire, the inner self is diminished; when one prizes external things, one’s own worth is made light. Fame is a possession shared by all under Heaven, and should not be grasped in excess. Pursuing fame damages De (Virtue/Power), while flaunting and showing off one’s fame also damages it. Both are misguided. Those who rush after fame will see that once it comes into view, rivalry follows, bringing many calamities in its wake.

Some people can preserve their fame, yet fall into the error of becoming closed and rigid: they cling to their own prejudices and cannot adapt. In handling public affairs, one should take the needs of the people as one’s guide. To follow the people means that the six senses and the mind discussed above can function freely, without selfish intent. Otherwise, likes and desires will arise one after another, like plants springing up vigorously in the spring rains, and will be difficult to stop.

Therefore, governance must begin early. Even when plants are pulled out, they grow back as soon as the rain comes; the seasons make this happen, though people may not notice. Human life depends on the breath. If the breath gradually weakens and can no longer flourish, are there no ways to support and protect it, to replenish and sustain it? The key is simply to understand how to follow the right moment. This is also the essential teaching on nourishing life that the True Classic of Southern Florescence, that is, the Zhuangzi, quietly reveals. Those who study it should reflect on it deeply.