《南華真經循本》Vol. 19

Zhuangzi was walking through the mountains when he came upon a great tree with luxuriant branches and leaves. A woodcutter had stopped beside it but did not cut it down. When asked why, the woodcutter replied, "This tree is useless." Zhuangzi said, "This tree survives to its natural lifespan precisely because of its worthlessness."

Later, Zhuangzi left the mountains and stayed at an old friend’s home. The friend was delighted and told his servant to slaughter a goose for the meal. The servant asked, "We have two geese—one that can honk and one that cannot. Which should I kill?" The master said, "Kill the one that cannot honk." The next day, Zhuangzi’s disciple asked him, "Yesterday, the mountain tree was spared because it was useless, yet today the master’s goose was killed for being useless. How would you position yourself, Master?"

Zhuangzi laughed and replied, "I would position myself between usefulness and uselessness. But this may seem wise, yet it still has its limitations. If one follows the natural Dao (the Way) and wanders freely through the world, one will not be troubled by such dilemmas. Neither pursuing praise nor fearing slander, now soaring like a dragon, now hiding like a snake, adapting to the changes of circumstance without fixating on any single extreme. Rising or falling, advancing or retreating, one takes harmony as the guiding principle, roaming in the source of all things, mastering external things without being enslaved by them. How could one ever be burdened? This is the way of Shennong and the Yellow Emperor."

"As for the constant principles of worldly affairs and human relations, it is otherwise: where there is union, there must be separation; where there is success, there must be ruin. Integrity meets with obstruction, eminence invites slander, action brings harm, the worthy are plotted against, while the unworthy are bullied. How can one cling to any single extreme? Alas! My disciples, remember—only by returning to the realm of the natural Dao (the Way) can one find true refuge."

He then spoke of how the wise exhaust their hearts in planning, while petty men scheme with deceit.

Shinan Yiliao noticed the Duke of Lu looking troubled and asked him why. The Duke said, "I study the ways of the ancient kings, inherit the legacy of my ancestors, revere the spirits, honor the worthy, and devote myself tirelessly to these pursuits. Yet I cannot avoid calamity—this is why I am distressed." Shinanzi said, "Your method for dispelling calamity is too shallow. The fox with its splendid fur and the leopard with its spotted coat dwell in the mountains, hiding in caves—this is their quietude. They move by night and rest by day—this is their vigilance. Though driven by hunger and thirst, they still avoid human settlements to seek food by distant rivers and lakes—this is their caution. Yet they still cannot escape traps and snares."

This passage expounds on the principle of shedding external constraints to return to the authentic Dao. The calamity brought by animal traps—do the beasts themselves bear any guilt? Their fur alone invites misfortune. Is not the state of Lu like Your Majesty's fur? I hope you may relinquish attachment to form, cleanse desires from your heart, and wander freely in the untrodden wilderness.

Like water birds (Xu) that instinctively keep their distance—even when hungry or thirsty, they prefer watching lakes from afar, foraging only in mountain forests rather than venturing onto open waters. In the southern lands lies the country of Jiande, where people embody purity and simplicity. With few selfish thoughts and faint desires, they know only labor without hoarding, delight in giving without seeking reward. Unversed in worldly rites of benevolence and righteousness, they follow their hearts yet unknowingly align with the Great Dao (Da Fang). They live in spontaneous joy and are laid to rest in peaceful burial. May Your Majesty cast aside state rituals and walk instead with the Dao.

When the ruler protests that the path seems distant and perilous without carriage or boat, Shinanzi replies: Abandon regal posturing (Xing Ju), cease clinging to fixed positions—this itself becomes your vehicle. To the ruler's concern about desolate roads without provisions, he responds: Diminish expenditures, temper desires, and even without grain, you shall have enough. When crossing rivers or sailing seas until shores vanish from sight, voyaging ever farther into the limitless, as those who bid farewell return to land—only then are you truly free from worldly dust.

Later passages add: Governing others is a burden; being served brings anxiety. May Your Majesty release these loads to wander alone with the Dao through vast borderless realms. Consider two boats crossing a river—if an empty vessel drifts into collision, even hot-tempered men won't rage; but should someone be aboard, shouts will arise. If one maintains emptiness like a valley in worldly affairs, who could harm them?

The concluding reference to Beigong She collecting funds for Duke Ling of Wei's bell-casting (likely a later interpolation beyond Zhuangzi's original text) describes setting an altar outside the city gate to gather contributions.

This passage contains two Daoist parables from the Zhuangzi. The first recounts a dialogue between the craftsman Shi She (also known as Prince Qingji), while the second describes Confucius's encounter with Taigong Ren during a period of hardship.

Shi She spent three months crafting a hanging bell frame. When Prince Qingji inquired about his special technique, Shi She replied: "I dared not employ any deliberate method. I've heard that all carved objects ultimately return to simplicity. I maintained a state of primal unknowing, drifting in a trance-like state without conscious thought. I let all things come and go naturally—not obstructing their arrival nor clinging to their departure. I yielded to the strong while accommodating the gentle, allowing everything to follow its natural course. Thus though I worked day and night, I never felt fatigued—how much more so when following the Dao (the Way)?" This emphasizes the Dao's singular nature—any deliberate action deviates from its essence. The phrase "dared not employ technique" signifies maintaining an attitude of natural wuwei (non-action).

The second parable describes Confucius trapped between Chen and Cai states without food for seven days, when Taigong Ren came to visit. Using the metaphor of the "sluggish bird" of the Eastern Sea—a clumsy flier that stays within the flock, neither leading nor lagging—Taigong Ren illustrates how this bird avoids misfortune. He observes: "Straight trees are felled first; sweet wells are drained dry. You constantly display wisdom to startle fools and cultivate yourself to highlight others' flaws. Like carrying the sun and moon while walking, you inevitably attract calamity." Quoting ancient sages, he adds: "Those who boast of themselves never succeed; achievement brings loss instead." Truly enlightened individuals seek no fame, blending seamlessly with ordinary people.

Deeply moved, Confucius immediately dismissed his disciples. Both stories exemplify the Daoist wisdom of wuwei (non-action) and "preserving simplicity"—rejecting deliberate striving and intellectual ostentation in favor of harmonizing with nature and merging with worldly existence.

This passage presents two stories that illustrate Daoist philosophy of life through the experiences of Confucius and Zhuangzi.

The first story tells how Confucius sought advice from the hermit Zisanghu about his repeated misfortunes. Confucius recounted being expelled from Lu, humiliated by tree-cutters in Song, barred from entering Wei, impoverished in the Shang-Zhou region, and besieged between Chen and Cai, which caused his friends to drift away. Zisanghu responded with the parable of "the fleeing man": When Lin Hui fled disaster, he abandoned a priceless jade disk but carried an infant on his back. Asked why, Lin Hui explained "the jade was connected by profit, the child by natural kinship." Relationships based on interest dissolve when trouble comes, while natural bonds strengthen in adversity. Zisanghu concluded: "The friendship of noblemen is insipid as water yet enduring; the friendship of petty men is sweet as honey yet easily broken." Profoundly moved, Confucius returned and instructed his disciples to set aside their books and focus on practical cultivation.

The second story describes Zhuangzi meeting the King of Wei in patched coarse clothing. When the king asked why he appeared so destitute, Zhuangzi distinguished between "poverty" and "distress": worn clothes signify poverty, but inability to practice virtue constitutes true distress. He used the analogy of gibbons: when moving among nanmu and catalpa trees, even the divine archer Houyi couldn't catch them; yet when trapped in thorny bushes, they become helpless. This shows how circumstances determine conditions, not any change in the creature's inherent capability.

The core teachings are:

1. Human relationships should follow natural spontaneity - utilitarian bonds cannot withstand trials

2. External circumstances don't determine inner worth - a virtuous person may be poor but never truly distressed

3. Environment profoundly affects people - the wise understand situational adaptation

Phrases like "The friendship of noblemen is insipid as water" and "Poverty is not distress" became celebrated maxims. Through concrete examples, these stories vividly demonstrate the Daoist attitude of embracing naturalness and transcending utilitarianism.

This passage depicts a dialogue between Confucius and his disciple Yan Hui during their hardship between the states of Chen and Cai, revealing Daoist reflections on heavenly mandate (天命) and human effort.

Confucius found himself in dire straits between Chen and Cai, going seven days without lighting a fire to cook. Leaning on a withered tree with his left hand and tapping a dry branch with his right, he sang an ancient song from the era of the Flame Emperor (炎帝). Though his actions resembled musical performance, there was no rhythm; though sound was produced, there was no melody. This spontaneous, unrestrained state was like the way soil naturally crumbles when plowed. Yan Hui stood respectfully by, observing, and Confucius worried that his disciple might overly revere him and fall into melancholy.

Confucius said: "It is easy to avoid harm from the mandate of heaven, but difficult to resist the temptations of human benefits. All things have neither beginning nor end—humanity and heaven are originally one." He explained that hunger, thirst, cold, heat, and all forms of hardship are merely expressions of heaven and earth’s natural movement, just as a minister serves his ruler. In the same way, humans can only submit to the mandate of heaven.

Regarding the difficulty of "resisting human benefits," Confucius pointed out: When one begins to be employed and titles and emoluments flow in continuously, these external gains do not truly belong to oneself. A true noble person does not seize them like a thief, just as the wise swallow (鷾鴯) knows to avoid places unfit for dwelling. What, then, does it mean for a person to forcibly pursue such external things?

This dialogue embodies the Daoist philosophy of following nature and transcending material desires, emphasizing that one should face external gains and losses with the same composure as facing the mandate of heaven, maintaining inner detachment and freedom.

The Nanhua Zhenjing Xunben passage reveals the core Daoist concept of "harmony between heaven and humanity" through vivid stories and dialogues.

The text begins with the metaphor of swallows building nests: these birds only briefly dwell among humans during spring and autumn sacrifices to the gods of land and grain, abandoning their nests after laying eggs due to their innate fear of people. This phenomenon illustrates that all beings follow their intrinsic nature, which should not be forcibly altered.

Through Confucius's (Zhongni) dialogue, the text then expounds the philosophy of "having neither beginning nor end": all things undergo continuous transformation, making it impossible to determine their origins or destinations. The statement "humans and heaven are one" means both humanity and nature follow the movement of the Dao (the Way). Sages do not forcibly alter reality but live in peaceful accordance with natural patterns.

Finally, the passage recounts Zhuangzi's famous observation of "the mantis stalking the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind" while wandering in Diaoling: the cicada, indulging in shade, forgets danger; the mantis exposes itself while hunting; and a strange magpie prepares to prey on the mantis. This food chain epiphany reveals how all creatures constrain one another while losing their true nature to desire. When Zhuangzi discards his slingshot to leave, a park keeper scolds him. Returning home, he remains secluded for three months until his disciple Lin Qiu inquires about his contemplation—hinting at Zhuangzi's profound reflection on how material desires obscure human nature.

Collectively, these stories demonstrate that humans should follow natural patterns without being blinded by immediate gains, preserving their authentic nature. Like sages who recognize the limits of human effort and serenely accept heaven's arrangements, one may thereby attain the state of "harmony between heaven and humanity."

Zhuangzi here presents two parables to illustrate the principles of "forgetting the self" and "humility."

The first story recounts: I once became overly attached to external appearances, thereby forgetting my fundamental nature. It was like gazing at turbid water while losing sight of the clear spring at its source. Confucius taught us to follow local customs when traveling, yet while wandering in Diaoling, I completely forgot my own existence. When a strange magpie brushed against my forehead, I became so absorbed among the chestnut trees that even the orchard keeper found my behavior peculiar, considering it self-demeaning.

The second story tells of Yangzi (Yang Zhu) visiting the state of Song and lodging at an inn. The innkeeper had two concubines—one beautiful and one plain. Strangely, the plain one was favored while the beautiful one was neglected. When Yangzi inquired, the innkeeper replied: "The beautiful one acts conscious of her beauty, so I no longer see it; the plain one knows her plainness, so I no longer notice it." Hearing this, Yangzi told his disciples: "Remember this—those with true De (Virtue) must abandon all self-conscious claims to wisdom. Master this, and where would you not be welcome?"

Both stories demonstrate how one should relinquish self-attachment and avoid deliberate self-display. The truly cultivated never presume their own superiority—only thus can they win others' regard. The orchard keeper found Zhuangzi peculiar precisely because he was completely immersed in nature, forgetting worldly conventions; likewise, the innkeeper favored the humble concubine because she made no pretensions.