《南華真經義海纂微》Vol. 89

The “Parables” chapter says: Parables make up nineteen-tenths, repeated words make up seventeen-tenths, and goblet words—speech that tilts with what it encounters, like a wine cup, and changes with the moment—arise daily, following the natural limits of things. A parable uses something external to make a point. A father does not serve as matchmaker for his own son: when a father praises his son himself, people are often less inclined to believe him than when someone else offers the praise. This is not the father’s fault; it is caused by people’s bias.

When another person’s opinion agrees with one’s own, one approves of it; when it differs, one rejects it. Whatever accords with one’s ideas, one considers right; whatever does not, one considers wrong. Repeated words are words borrowed from elders to make one’s own words acceptable. People trust the elderly because they are old. But if someone is old without having the insight to grasp how things fit together and distinguish what is fundamental from what is secondary, then expecting wisdom on the strength of age alone is to mistake age for foresight. Someone who cannot surpass others in insight does not truly understand how to live among people. One who does not understand this is merely an old-fashioned person.

Goblet words arise daily, following the natural limits of things; in this way, they can extend without end and accompany a person throughout life. When one does not speak, the mind can remain undivided; as soon as one speaks, words become differentiated. Words themselves are not the same as an undivided state of mind. Hence the saying, “speech without speaking.” One may speak all one’s life and yet never have spoken; one may remain silent all one’s life and yet never have been without speech. Speech has its own grounds: sometimes something can be so, and sometimes it cannot. Things that are naturally so sometimes hold true, and sometimes do not. What does it mean for something to hold true? It holds true in the circumstances in which it does. What does it mean for something not to hold true? It does not hold true in the circumstances in which it does not. What does it mean for something to be possible? It is possible where it can be done. What does it mean for something to be impossible? It is impossible where it cannot be done. All things have their own grounds for holding true and for being possible. Nothing wholly fails to hold true, and nothing is wholly impossible. If goblet words did not arise daily, following the natural limits of things, who could sustain this state for long?

All things arise through the proliferation of kinds. Their forms differ, and they take one another’s place; beginnings and endings join like a ring, with no fixed order to be found. This is called the Heaven’s Balance—the natural equilibrium. The Heaven’s Balance is the natural limit of things.

Guo Xiang’s commentary says: When one entrusts one’s words to someone else, nine out of ten are believed. When one borrows the words of elders, whom the world esteems, seven out of ten are believed. Goblet words are like a wine cup: when full, it tips over; when empty, it turns upright. They are not fixed or unchanging. To use them as a metaphor for words is to say that speech changes with the things it encounters. The sun rises each day, and all things are renewed day after day. By following this renewal, each thing can fully realize its natural endowment; when that endowment is fulfilled, it harmonizes with all things.

When words come from one’s own mouth, worldly people are often unwilling to accept them, so one borrows the words of others. Shoulder-Wu and Lian Shu, among others, are examples of this. People generally do not believe a father who praises his son; even if someone does believe him, existing suspicions often lead others to question the claim. That is why one borrows another person’s voice to make a judgment. Even when one believes something oneself, those burdened by habitual suspicion may still refuse to accept it; entrust the words to someone else, and they will believe them. When people listen to opinions, they are subject to this kind of bias: whatever agrees with…

People hold fast to their own views and oppose one another. As opinions divide into factions, disagreement follows. If we trust only those who take no part in the dispute, they too will have differing views. How, then, can we determine who is right? What is so special about gaining people’s trust through appeals to outside authorities? It is only because respected elders are often honored by society that people tend to believe them. Without such authority, people might believe only some of what is said. But although elders have seen and heard more than others, that alone does not make them more correct: their claims must still be judged against the things themselves. People simply grow to believe statements that have been repeated for a long time. This is why society settles into old habits.

Each thing has its own natural bounds, and right and wrong have no fixed master. Change therefore unfolds without end, and no single standard can settle everything once and for all. When the mind is open and free of preconceptions, and we follow what is natural and let things take their own course, each thing can complete its allotted span of life. Let things themselves guide our judgments, and let our words respond to how things actually are: then opposing views of right and wrong will naturally come together. But if we first establish a doctrine to make them conform, I will no longer be in accord with the things of the world.

I say what the other person has said. I have not set out a separate doctrine of my own, so it cannot be said that I have spoken, yet neither can it be said that I have not spoken at all. Each side has its own inclinations, judging some things acceptable and others unacceptable; yet each thing takes shape according to its own nature. In sum, nothing is absolutely acceptable, and nothing is absolutely unacceptable. This is the way of understanding. Only when words change in response to how things are, and follow their natural bounds, can we avoid premature ending and injury. Though things continually alternate and change, Qi (vital energy) flows through them as one. Today may be regarded as a beginning, and yesterday as an end; this is simply how things are, and no fixed sequence can be imposed from elsewhere. What does it mean to regard things as equal? Does it mean carelessly declaring everything the same? No. It means recognizing that each thing has its own natural bounds.

Lü’s commentary says that the Zhuangzi contains nineteen chapters of parables, though not every chapter uses a story merely to explain an argument. It also contains seventeen chapters of authoritative sayings, though not every chapter simply borrows the words of the ancients. If “goblet words”—speech that pours and responds to circumstances like wine from a vessel—arise each day and take nature as their measure, then all speech can be called goblet words, whether or not it takes the form of a parable or an authoritative saying.

What does it mean to say that there are nineteen chapters of parables? The truth is already within one’s own mind, but if one speaks only from one’s own convictions, others often doubt and refuse to believe. This is like a father being unable to act as matchmaker for his own son. One must rely on something outside oneself. This is not because one is unwilling to speak plainly, but because people may not be willing to hear plain speech.

What does it mean to say that there are seventeen chapters of authoritative sayings? When someone whose views match our own speaks, we agree and think that what they say is right. When someone whose views differ from ours speaks, we disagree and think that what they say is wrong. When I explain a principle to others, I hope they will accept it rather than oppose it. So I express it through the words of respected elders. Since the words I cite are ones I myself respect, it is as though I had spoken them in person. Whenever this book quotes the ancients, it borrows the words of elders whom people esteem, because they had seen and heard things before I did.

A sage is not simply someone who is older than others. Only those who can grasp how things fit together and distinguish root from branch are capable of guiding others, and others will follow them. Without this ability, even a very old person is merely someone worn out by time. Why should they be esteemed?

Once spoken, words have no fixed and unchanging content. The words a sage speaks each day in response to events are like “goblet words,” like wine poured as needed from a drinking vessel. The vessel draws wine from the jar and pours it out according to need; when empty, it stores no wine. The sage likewise does not cling to a fixed set of words, but responds to changing circumstances. What is called the “Heavenly Pivot”—a state of following nature and dissolving distinctions between right and wrong—is where the sage makes their home. The sage uses the “Heavenly Balance,” a natural, impartial measure of right and wrong, to dissolve disputes. Whether entering public service or withdrawing, speaking or keeping silent, they accord with nature’s impartial balance. Following this principle, one can pass through life in peace.

Only when one does not cling to the self can one speak without bias. Once one speaks while asserting a self and things as fixed, it becomes difficult to bring them into alignment. Thus “sameness” and speech, and speech and “sameness,” can never be united through fixed formulations. Silence may seem to bring everything into alignment, yet it remains opposed to speech and is therefore not true “Great Sameness”—the complete dissolution of distinctions. Great Sameness is reached only by speaking without clinging to what one says; this is “goblet words.” Thus a person may speak throughout their life as though they had never spoken, or remain silent throughout their life without ever truly leaving speech behind.

What is called “acceptable” and “unacceptable,” “right” and “wrong,” each has its own grounds. Once something is judged right or acceptable, there will also be a corresponding judgment set against it. From this we can see that although the kinds of things in the world are many, their origins may not be different. Understanding that all things come from one source makes it possible to see how beginning and end join like a ring. This is called the “Heavenly Balance.” The Heavenly Balance allows different judgments of right and wrong to harmonize naturally with one another, so that all things find their proper alignment. It is the highest state of Wuwei (non-action), and is therefore called the “Heavenly Boundary.”

The Commentary on the Mystery of Solitary Understanding explains: “Metaphorical words, weighty words, and goblet words” are different ways of speaking. Goblet words are like the good words spoken of by Laozi: they leave no flaw open to criticism. When a wine vessel is full, it tips and pours; when empty, it tilts upward. This serves as a metaphor for someone skilled in speech, who can change with the moment and is not bound by fixed formulations. Only by speaking each day in response to events and changing without limit can one follow nature. If nine out of ten statements are believed, or seven out of ten, they are still confined by the changes of Yin-Yang and cannot exhaust the principles of things. People in the world often distrust what one says oneself, so one may sometimes convey an idea through the words of others; this is called “metaphorical speech.” “Weighty speech” means invoking the words of respected figures such as Confucius and Yan Hui. Even words that originate with oneself can become the words of an elder if they withstand scrutiny and earn respect. But without understanding the connections among things and distinguishing root from branch, even an old person cannot become an elder worthy of respect. Only by learning the Dao (the Way) can one guide others; otherwise, one is merely worn out by time. The sage’s words respond to things and accord with reason; once spoken, they leave no residue. This is why they are called “daily renewal.” The sage harmonizes all things through the principles of nature, so their words change without limit and enable them to pass through life in peace. Goblet words arise from speech that does not cling; when one can let go of clinging, distinctions no longer bind the myriad things.

The Dao is originally one and undivided, but as soon as it is put into words, language creates distinctions. The “goblet words” Zhuangzi speaks of are utterances that arise after all things have been seen as one. Yet once this unity is expressed in words, neither the Dao’s unity nor language itself remains undivided. Rather than clinging to speaking or silence, it is better not to be bound by words. Even when someone appears not to speak, that does not mean they have never expressed anything. Confucius said he wished to say nothing, but did he ever truly say nothing at all?

Words arise from wordlessness. Even if one speaks all day, one is simply responding to things and events as they come, without deliberately intending to say something. And even if one remains silent all day, that does not prevent one from responding to the world. Can that really count as having expressed nothing at all? This is what Zhuangzi means by “goblet words.”

Everything has its own origin and its own natural way of being. Right and wrong, self and other, all arise from distinctions; what is permissible and impermissible, what is so and what is not so, arise in the same way. Zhuangzi calls for us to view self and other, right and wrong, as one. Each thing has its own grounds for being as it is and for being able to act as it does; let all things be complete within the bounds of their own nature and life. What is permissible and what is so belong to things themselves; I do not determine them. Without “goblet words” flowing forth day after day and the “Heavenly Balance” harmonizing all things, who could maintain this equilibrium for long?

“Seed” refers to the beginning from which all things come into being. The forms of things are countless, their transformations endless. The new replaces the old in a continuous cycle, like a ring without end, with no fixed pattern to be found. This is called the “Heavenly Equalizer”: the balance that arises naturally, not something that human effort can arrange. The “Heavenly Equalizer” refers to balance, while the “Heavenly Boundary” refers to nature’s beginnings. Both are metaphors for the natural state of things.

Bixuzi’s commentary says: “Of every ten ‘lodging words,’ nine are spoken; of every ten ‘weighty words,’ three are untrustworthy.” This reflects the common view. “Lodging words” convey a point by borrowing someone else’s words; “weighty words” borrow the words of people held in high esteem. People often trust words from outsiders, yet are less willing to believe a father who praises his son. They do not carefully distinguish right from wrong; they assume something is good simply because it agrees with their own views. “Weighty words” are often trusted when spoken by the elderly, but age without virtue is no true foresight; it is merely long experience.

“Goblet words” are like a wine cup: when full, it tips; when empty, it turns upward; only when its contents are at the right level does it stand upright. “The sun rising” refers to the sun coming up and its light becoming visible. Goblet words take their meaning from uprightness, and the rising sun from clarity and rightness. A noble person should speak with clarity and rightness, harmonizing all things until each finds its proper place. People are often more willing to trust an idea when it is expressed through someone else’s words. And when “weighty words” are left unspoken, lodging words and goblet words alike return to unity, for silence brings them together. The principle of wordlessness is inherently one, whereas lodging words, weighty words, and goblet words each have their own distinctions. That is why it is said: “The principle of unity and language are not themselves one.”

“Each thing has its own way of speaking, and each has its own points of agreement.” This is much the same as saying, “The Dao is one, but speech is two.” “Speech without words” means speaking without private feelings or bias. “Goblet speech”—words that emerge in response to events, like wine flowing from a goblet—accords with what is balanced and proper. How could it carry private feelings or bias? Without feelings of right and wrong, liking and disliking, there can be no speech shaped by such judgments and preferences. Thus one may speak throughout one’s life as though one had never spoken. But if one merely keeps silent with care, like a sack tied shut, while the principle of balance and propriety remains in one’s heart, then one has gone all day without speaking, yet has never truly been without words.

Each thing has its own causes, and so there are things that can or cannot be done, things that are so or not so. Do they not each have their own reasons for being as they are? Something can be done because it accords with the Dao; something else is not so, or cannot be done, because it does not accord with the Dao. Since each has its own reasons and its own possibilities, nothing is absolutely “all so” or “all not so.” The text therefore mentions “goblet speech” again to show that it can endure, and to sum up what came before: the kinds of things in the world differ, and their principles take turns succeeding one another. What has form can change into formlessness, and formlessness can give rise to what has form. Things with feeling and things without feeling alternate, and what lacks feeling can also change into what has feeling. At first, no beginning can be seen; at the end, no conclusion can be found. The cycle turns endlessly and is hard to fathom, so it is called the “Heavenly Equalizer,” the natural balance. Nature brings all things into balance; each simply reaches its own proper measure.

Liu Gai’s commentary says: Water held in a goblet is like speech arising from De; until the goblet is full, it does not pour out. Adding water from outside may seem to increase it, but cannot change its nature. When water flows out from within, no matter how much pours forth, nothing is diminished. Hence the phrase, “Goblet speech emerges day after day.” All things have their limits, and so must have beginnings. Nature’s beginnings and endings form a circle; hence the phrase, “Harmonize with Heaven’s boundaries”—follow nature’s limits and distinctions. The spreading of plants and the meandering of streams may serve as images of nature’s patterns. When the Dao is whole, nothing is damaged, and all things can therefore enjoy the full span of their allotted lives. One may speak throughout life as though never having spoken, and remain silent throughout life without being entirely without words. In this way, the Six Classics need not be dismissed as fragmented and cumbersome, nor Laozi’s words as overly brief. If parables are used to gain others’ agreement, and repeated sayings—quotations from the ancients or elders—are used to win their trust, these are all purposeful forms of speech, merely the lesser end of speaking. Goblet speech may be the root of speech.

The Yanzhai Commentary in Plain Language says: A goblet is a vessel for wine, whose flavor becomes apparent as one drinks. “Emerges day after day” means that all things contain this kind of speech: using the principles of Heaven to bring people’s hearts into harmony. When a father seeks a match for his son, others may not believe him, so he draws on another person’s words to make his case. One may speak up oneself in order to settle an argument and change the situation. Invoking the words of someone who is old and respected gives them greater weight, so listeners dare not readily object. The ancient rulers were all people of great virtue and age. To understand the constant and the changing in things, while attending to both root and branch, is to understand the constant way and its changes.

From beginning to end, a person’s life may extend to a full century. Yet even if that person studies throughout, they may never learn anything that gives them an advantage over others. Such people are merely the antiquated, useless sort of person spoken of in the world. They let their thoughts roam without limit, take pleasure in doing so, and spend their whole lives passing the time.

To take silence as speech is to arrive at “the one principle.” If one clings to expressing it as a definite principle, or then discusses that principle in words, it shows that the mind still makes distinctions and holds fast; it cannot return to unity. Only silence can bring things together as one. This is what is meant by “words spoken without a mind.” Someone may speak throughout their life and yet never truly say anything; conversely, when a principle is understood through silence, it cannot simply be said that nothing has been said.

What people call “acceptable” and “unacceptable,” “right” and “wrong,” each rests on its own grounds. What grounds do I have for judging something right or workable? I simply accept it as right and workable in keeping with how it is. If it is considered workable, there is a reason why it is workable; so there is no reason to insist that it must be unworkable. The “Discussion on Making All Things Equal” explains this at length. If words that follow nature cannot harmonize the opinions of everyone, how could they endure through the ages without being worn away?

The source of all things lies in the creative transformation of nature, the force by which Heaven and Earth bring forth the myriad things. They cycle back and forth between Heaven and Earth, ending and beginning again, each taking the place of another. The subtleties of their inherent patterns and order cannot be exhausted. “Heaven’s Equalizer” means that the principles of Heaven and Earth are alike in this regard.

The meanings of “hearsay” and “weighty words” have been clearly explained by various commentators. The account that “nine out of ten statements are weighty words” seems the most fitting. The author says relatively little directly from his own mind. This probably means that ordinary people have no settled views, and their judgments of importance shift with those around them. So the author adopts expedient ways of speaking, guiding them in step with the moment, so they can first be persuaded and then gradually cultivate a good heart. This also reflects a profound concern for the state of the world and care for the people.

Commentators differ in their explanations of “goblet words,” a metaphor for words that carry meaning as a goblet carries drink. A goblet can hold water, just as words can carry the Dao. The Dao cannot, of course, be fully expressed in words; but that does not mean the Dao has nothing to do with words, just as water cannot be said to have nothing to do with a goblet. Goblet words emerge ceaselessly day after day, and people never tire of hearing them. Unlike hearsay and weighty words, they do not select one side over another.

Perhaps only by following the distinctions made by nature can one accord with the hearts of people everywhere. If one has no fixed opinion, why contend over sameness and difference, right and wrong? The saying “A father does not find a matchmaker for his son” is enough to explain the purpose of hearsay: I borrow the words of someone else because people are less likely to believe my own. If one merely argues over whether words are the same or different, the traces of speech and action will eventually give one away. This is inferior to the wholeness of silence, in which others have no opening to disagree with me. And the wholeness of silence is itself inferior to having no mind…

Zhuangzi said to Huizi, “Confucius lived to the age of sixty and underwent sixty changes. What he first thought right, he later came to think wrong. Who knows whether what he now thinks right will not later seem wrong to him?”

“To transform the myriad things without going against their underlying patterns is the function of ‘weighty words.’ Weighty words, too, come from one’s own speech. The warp and weft—the principles that run through things in every direction—set forth the range of human understanding and distinguish the roots of what one has learned from its branches. Here, too, the point is to caution and encourage those who study.

“Goblet words, like a wine cup that tilts with what is poured into it, have no end, yet follow the natural bounds of each situation. They unfold with ease and composure, until one reaches the end of one’s allotted years. How could worldly entanglements affect a person like this? To reach this point is enough.

“Next, the text continues to clear away the traces left by speech. The patterns of things under Heaven, when left unspoken, are one with the Dao. Once spoken, however, they are divided into ‘nothing’ and ‘something,’ and distinctions emerge between the coarse and the subtle. How, then, can they still be called one? Only by going beyond something and nothing, and mysteriously joining the coarse with the subtle, can one attain true great unity. So here, where the text says ‘no words,’ the word should be ‘words’; the passage that follows makes this clear.

“This further explains the subtlety of ‘never having spoken, and never having not spoken’: speech is allowed to move like a wondrous transformation, without clinging to the traces of speaking or silence. Then the people of the world respond like grass bending in the wind, or a shadow moving with its form.

“Speech is sometimes fitting because it arises naturally. Since some statements can be valid, there can be no statements that are absolutely incapable of being valid; since some statements are unfitting, there can be no statements that are absolutely incapable of being unfitting. Goblet words can therefore accommodate both parable and weighty words, without rejecting either. In this way, even if speech reaches throughout the world, it leaves no fault behind.

“The final chapter of the Nanhua True Scripture says that goblet words lay out transformations, weighty words express what is true, and parables broaden the meaning. This shows that the scripture is vast and profound, full of countless transformations, yet ultimately its speech takes these three forms.

“Still, leaving no trace at all is easy; walking where there is no path is difficult. Keeping silent is easy; speaking without a flaw is difficult. The Master of Nanhua established these three forms of speech to avoid faults in words. Using speech to avoid flaws is close in meaning to forgetting speech and leaving no flaws behind. Here, ‘forgetting’ means recognizing speech as something that exists without becoming attached to it; it does not mean stubbornly refusing to speak. Forgetting words and exhausting argument comes close to what Confucius meant when he said, ‘I would rather not speak.’

“The myriad things in the world all issue from a single pivot, the source of change and movement. Once they receive physical form, they take on different shapes, replace one another, and never come to an end. Speech likewise comes from within, but the arguments it produces differ, and contention has no limit. The sage follows this situation, initiating no argument but responding to what others say. Such speech answers the other person; it is not fixed as ‘my own words.’ Speech is therefore like a ring, with neither beginning nor end, and no final point to pursue. I need only follow the changes between right and wrong and rest within the bounds of nature. This, too, is what it means to let go of attachment to speech.

Huizi said, “Confucius applied himself diligently and worked hard to acquire knowledge.”

Zhuangzi said, “Confucius has already rejected that way of describing him.” Confucius, however, never said this. He said, “People receive their endowment from the root of the Great Dao and recover their innate clarity; only then can they live. When their voices accord with musical pitch and their speech accords with proper standards, they lay out principles such as benefit and righteousness before others. People’s likes and dislikes, their judgments of right and wrong, then serve only to win others’ assent. If people can be convinced in their hearts and dare not go against them, the world will naturally be at peace, will it not? Peace is enough. Why would I need to catch up with others or surpass them?”

Guo Xiang’s commentary says: People live through the passing years and changing circumstances, changing along with their times. When the times change, popular customs and human feelings change too. How could someone who accommodates things and lets the mind wander freely be any different from ordinary people? Change never ceases, so no particular moment’s view can be treated as eternal and unchanging. To think that Confucius came to know things only after applying himself diligently and committing knowledge to memory is to fail to understand that things are allowed to change naturally. This shows how far Huizi stood from the realm of the sages.

What Confucius rejected was the idea that change is brought about through knowledge and effort. Change is simply how things are. So he followed the times and let all things develop, without deliberately making pronouncements. If one puts one’s intelligence to work and no longer returns to one’s innate clarity, life itself is lost. Sound arises from musical pitch, and speech proceeds according to standards. Pitch and standards were created by people; the sage simply makes use of them, so they are always fitting. Yet the sage has never deliberately spoken or made anything. This is what the sage means by saying, “I do not speak.”

Principles such as likes and dislikes, right and wrong, righteousness and benefit are set forth only by using people’s mouths to express them. The mouth conveys what is in the heart; to speak through the mouths of the people is therefore to follow their hearts. If I follow what the people want, who would go against it and establish a different view? Let the world follow its natural tendency toward peace, and peace will come of itself. What more need be done? By going with the natural course, there is nothing one cannot keep up with.

Lü Huiqing’s commentary says: The biographies record that at sixty Confucius’s “ear was attuned,” and at seventy he “followed his heart’s desires.” At the point where one follows the heart’s desires, the mind no longer gives rise to distinctions between right and wrong, and speech no longer concerns itself with gain and loss. Before reaching that state, the Dao cannot help but change along with things. Since it changes, one may first think something right and later think it wrong. How can we know that what seemed right at sixty was not already wrong at fifty-nine?

Huizi did not understand this. He thought Confucius was simply like everyone else, whereas Confucius’s state of being one with the Way of Heaven had never changed with external things, from ancient times to the present. Huizi instead regarded Confucius as someone who came to know things through diligent effort and the hard study of knowledge. “Reject” means to sever or abandon. When all things are able to grow, this is called De. The words, “People receive their endowment from the root of the Great Dao and recover their innate clarity; only then can they live,” refer to this. Before things are born, they have neither Qi nor form. How, then, could there be…

Spirituality is the root of life. Human beings arise from spirituality, and only then have Qi and form; now they must also restore their original spirituality. When one gives voice, it can accord with musical pitch without deliberately adjusting it. When one speaks, one can accord with the proper way without making a special effort to explain principles and meanings.

Yet when righteousness and profit are set before people, they act according to their own likes and dislikes, and their judgments of right and wrong. This can make others obey in words, but it cannot win their willing assent. The standards on which it relies are uncertain, and this is not Wuwei (non-action), allowing the myriad things to transform naturally. If people can be made to feel inwardly at ease and dare not defy the way or set up rival views, then peace throughout the world will be truly secure. This is how the world is allowed to settle naturally, rather than people merely being told to obey.

I fear I may not yet be like such a person. They accord with the changes of things, like the alternation of Yin-Yang through the four seasons, and have never deliberately proclaimed any position.

Commentary by Yidu: Confucius said, “At sixty, my ear was attuned.” This means that he could understand all kinds of statements without clinging to arguments over right and wrong. Hui Shi still did not understand this, believing that diligent reflection and the accumulation of knowledge would bring results. “Yielding” is like the alternation of Yin and Yang: in the midst of change, no deliberate command is issued.

The transformations of Heaven and Earth are the root of the myriad things, and human abilities and dispositions are also bestowed by these transformations. If one can return to the root and restore spirituality, the principles of life become clear. If one is pulled along by external things, one loses the root and forfeits spirituality. How, then, can life be preserved?

“Pitch” refers to the patterns governing the movement of Yin-Yang Qi; “proper way” refers to the Virtue of following Heaven and Earth. The sage accords with the Qi of Yin and Yang, so the voice naturally follows musical pitch. The sage accords with the Virtue of Heaven and Earth, so speech naturally follows the proper way. People today, however, weigh righteousness against profit again and again. From this arise likes and dislikes, judgments of right and wrong, and actions guided by personal opinions. This can make people obey in words, but it cannot win their inner trust. To win their willing assent, one should accord with things and let them follow their own course, without forcibly defying them or setting up rival views. To bring peace to the world by following the peace already present in it—this is to accord with nature.

“Let it be, let it be!” These words express the meaning of Wuwei: when I do not act presumptuously, others can settle naturally. That is why he says, “I fear I may not yet be like such a person.”

Commentary by Bixu: As people grow older, their Virtue becomes ever clearer. The wording here resembles the passage in the Zhuangzi about Qu Boyu, but the meaning is different. Qu Boyu understood that what one first takes to be right may later prove otherwise as circumstances change, yet he had not entirely forgotten himself. Confucius transformed people by responding to things and was able to remain free of constraint, but helping people forget themselves was still difficult.

What was first judged right may later be rejected as circumstances change, and one may ultimately return to the right path. What was previously not accepted as right is not necessarily wrong now. By continually diminishing attachment, one may in fact gain something. Diligent reflection can leave little room for change; clinging to knowledge can foster self-importance. Confucius kept himself apart from worldly distractions for a long time and did not deliberately record or publicize his words.

Human abilities and dispositions are received from the Great Dao; they cannot depend solely on the deeds of sages. When one restores spirituality, accords with change, and lets things follow their own course, the sounds one makes naturally follow musical pitch…

When words about balance and harmony are written down, and the teachings of ritual and music, together with the principles of right and profit, are set out in the classics, are they meant only to make people obey with their lips? They also make people follow eagerly, revere and emulate them, and ultimately become convinced in their hearts. They lead people to follow the ancient Way and the patterns of things. Who would then dare to oppose them? By holding to this attitude of following nature, one can bring stability to the world and peace to all under Heaven. I am no match for Confucius. Here Zhuangzi uses a humble expression to show his respect for Confucius.

The Yanzhai Kouyi, Lin Xiyi’s Song-dynasty commentary on the Zhuangzi, explains “applying the mind diligently in service” as working hard at one’s knowledge and understanding—in other words, learning widely. Confucius set aside broad learning and went further in his pursuit of the Way, though he never told anyone about it. “Inborn capacity” and “nature” are closely related: both refer to the original endowment received by a person at birth. Only by restoring the spiritual awareness and perception bestowed by the Creator to their original state can one fulfill the Way of human life.

“Ming” means to speak, and “lü” means a rule or standard. If right and profit are placed before people, distinctions arise between right and wrong, and between what they like and dislike; this sets self against others. Such distinctions may make people obey outwardly, but they may not convince them inwardly. Only by setting aside disputes over right and profit, and distinctions between right and wrong, can people be convinced in their hearts, with no one daring to oppose or defy them. Only then can one establish the principle by which all under Heaven may be brought to peace. Having praised Confucius’s state of mind, Zhuangzi turns to Huizi and sighs, “Ah, never mind! How could I ever measure up to him?” This expresses the deepest respect for Confucius.

As people live, they change continually as the years pass. Neither the wise nor the foolish can escape this: thoughts and judgments grow more numerous, while outward appearance changes; gain and loss, benefit and harm intermingle, and right and wrong, success and ruin keep shifting. The things before us that appear and vanish like illusions or bubbles are all transformations. With each passing year, Confucius’s state of mind changed; by the age of sixty, he had changed sixty times. This shows that the Way he followed in life was renewed day by day, never fixed in old assumptions. In undergoing change, he was like ordinary people; yet the changes he experienced were unlike theirs.

The Yellow Emperor’s Book says, “The cosmos is in one’s hands; the myriad transformations arise within one’s body.” This is indeed true. Sixty years mark one full cycle of the Heavenly Stems and Earthly Branches; for a person, they are also about half a long life. After so many years, one ought to have come to understand right and wrong. Yet one may still not know whether what one now takes to be right is actually wrong; one may even believe that everything in the previous fifty-nine years was wrong. The cause lies in the presence of an “I” in the heart. Unless one has reached the state of “no self,” even after sixty years one may not truly be right. Thus Master Qu once lamented that his “fifty-nine years had been wrong.”

“Diligently applying one’s will” means accumulating learning; “serving through knowledge” means relying on one’s abilities. Confucius had long since set aside what he had learned and what he could do, silently advancing toward the Way, though others did not know it. Everyone receives inborn capacity and nature from the Creator. One must be able to restore one’s own spiritual awareness before one can…

Only in this way can it be sustained over time: enrich it with learning, and make it beautiful through virtuous conduct.

“Speech accords with the standard” means that words conform to principles; “the body accords with due measure” means that actions follow proper norms. These all arise from inner clarity. One might say that the qualities a person ought to possess are already quite fully developed.

Yet when righteousness and profit are set before them, people often take their own likes and dislikes as the measure of right and wrong. At most, they can make others obey outwardly. Scholars in the world are often like this. But now the Master can win people’s conviction from within, so that they dare not conceal anything from him.

“To establish what is settled throughout the world” means that his teaching is swift and effective. “How far he has reached!” is Zhuangzi’s heartfelt exclamation of admiration for the Master.