《南華真經循本》Vol. 20

Tian Zifang was seated beside Marquis Wen of Wei and repeatedly praised Xigong. Marquis Wen asked, “Is Xigong your teacher?” Tian Zifang replied, “No. He is simply from my hometown. He speaks about the Dao so aptly that I praise him.” Marquis Wen asked again, “Then do you have no teacher?” Tian Zifang said, “I do. My teacher is Dongguo Shunzi.”

Marquis Wen was puzzled. “Then why have I never heard you mention this teacher?” Tian Zifang explained, “My teacher is a true person who has attained the Dao. Though ordinary in appearance, he follows his natural nature, moves with all things while keeping his original integrity, and is inwardly pure yet able to embrace everything. When he encounters something contrary to what is right, he simply straightens his bearing, prompting others to reflect; their bad thoughts then fade away on their own. How could I be worthy of praising him?”

After Tian Zifang left, Marquis Wen felt bereft and remained silent all day. Later, he said to the ministers around him, “How profound! This is what it means to be a gentleman of complete virtue. I once thought that the words of sages and the conduct of benevolence and righteousness were the highest attainment. But now, hearing of Zifang’s teacher, I feel as though my body has fallen apart and I have no wish to move, while my mouth seems clamped shut and cannot speak. Everything I learned before was as useless as clay or wooden figures. Even being ruler of Wei has become a burden to me.”

Another person who had attained the Dao, Wen Boxuezi, was traveling to Qi and stopped for the night in Lu. A man from Lu asked to meet him, but Wen Boxuezi refused. “I have heard that gentlemen of the Central States are well versed in ritual and righteousness but do not understand the human heart. I do not wish to meet him.”

On his return from Qi, Wen Boxuezi again stayed in Lu, and the man once more asked to meet him. Wen Boxuezi came out to receive the visitor, but afterward returned sighing repeatedly. The next day, after meeting the visitor again, he sighed once more. His attendant asked, “Why do you sigh every time you have met with him?” Wen Boxuezi said, “I told you before: people of the Central States may understand ritual and righteousness, but they do not understand the human heart. The people I met these past few days observed every ritual in their movements and manners, yet their bearing was as imposing and threatening as that of tigers and leopards. They use rules to admonish the young and empty ceremony to pacify the people. I cannot bear to look at such false ritual for long.”

This passage recounts dialogues between Confucius and his disciples, primarily discussing the realization of the Dao (the Way) and the teacher-disciple relationship.

When Confucius met Wenbo Xuezhi, he simply gazed at him silently without speaking, which puzzled Zilu. Confucius explained that with someone like Wenbo Xuezhi, one could perceive the Dao within him at a glance, rendering words unnecessary. This illustrates the meaning of "the Dao is present when eyes meet" (目击而道存) — the Dao can be sensed through a single look without detailed observation.

Yan Hui said to Confucius: "When you walk slowly, I follow slowly; when you quicken your pace, I match it; when you run, I run too. But when you dash ahead leaving only dust behind, I can only stare after you, unable to keep up." Confucius asked what he meant. Yan Hui explained this was an analogy for learning: "I echo your words and debate what you debate, but when you influence people without speaking or deliberate effort, I cannot attain such a state."

Confucius sighed and said: "The greatest sorrow isn't physical death, but the death of one's heart. Like the sun rising east and setting west, all things follow this principle. Once we receive our physical form, we cannot change it but must adapt to the transformations of all things, moving ceaselessly day and night without knowing our final destination. Though we spend mornings and evenings together, you've missed what truly matters by clinging to my external manifestations—those have already passed, yet you still try to grasp them, like shopping in an empty marketplace. My teachings will soon be forgotten, as will your learning of them. Yet fear not, for though you may forget my past self, something essential will always remain."

The phrase "staring after in vain" (瞠若乎后) depicts watching wide-eyed yet being unable to catch up. "Having no authority yet people follow spontaneously" (无器而民蹈乎前) describes influencing others without relying on formal power.

The people danced spontaneously ahead, needing no drums or music as external motivators. Yan Hui failed to comprehend this principle, prompting Confucius to remark: "How could one not examine this carefully?" People's inability to understand stems from clinging to preconceptions that rigidify the mind.

Confucius used the sun as a metaphor: all things follow its rising and setting in their activities, just as they undergo birth and death in accordance with natural cycles. Confucius merely emulated the Dao (the Way) of nature in his actions, flowing continuously with all things, allowing them to take form naturally. He neither debated fate nor forced outcomes, simply moving like the sun itself. The term "xunran" (薰然) describes this natural process—like mist forming effortlessly from rising vapor.

To Yan Hui, Confucius said: "Throughout my life, I've taught you using this principle, yet now you deem it unattainable. This resembles two people meant to embrace with both arms, but releasing after clasping just one—is this not lamentable? What you perceive are merely my external manifestations. That elder Lao Dan (Laozi) has already attained the realm of serene emptiness, yet you seek concrete forms from him—like searching for a horse in a horse market. Though the market exists for trading horses, can one expect to find them present at every moment?"

(Quoting the Book of Songs and Han dynasty texts to clarify that "tangsi" [唐肆] refers to a horse market with passageways for steeds to enter and exit.)

Confucius continued: "I appreciate your insights, and you acknowledge my views—yet all these should be wholly relinquished. Though I worry you may never fully grasp this, why fret? Within forgetting itself, there remains an unforgettable 'authenticity.' Even if you forget my past teachings, should you arrive at understanding independently, this proves the 'authentic' already exists."

Another passage describes Confucius visiting Laozi, who had just washed his hair: Laozi stood with damp locks loose, his spirit so concentrated he seemed detached from the human realm. After waiting respectfully, Confucius approached: "Are my eyes deceived? Moments ago, your form appeared as still as withered wood, as if transcending all things to stand alone beyond the world." Laozi replied: "My shen (spirit) was journeying through..."

This dialogue records Confucius seeking Laozi's (Lao Dan) profound teachings about the Dao (the Way). Using vivid metaphors, Laozi explains to Confucius the state of the "perfected person" (zhiren).

Laozi begins by describing how when the human mind is bound by confusion, it becomes like a mouth blocked from speaking. He explains the fundamental principle of all creation—the extreme Yin (feminine cosmic force) brings cold and desolation, while extreme Yang (masculine cosmic force) brings scorching brightness. The harmonious interaction of these two energies gives birth to all things. This cyclical transformation has no end, with day and night alternating and life and death revolving as natural laws, yet no visible controller drives these processes.

When Confucius inquires how to realize this state, Laozi responds: those who reach the realm of ultimate beauty and joy are the "perfected persons" (the highest state of cultivation). Using examples of animals adapting to their environments, he illustrates: grass-eating beasts don't resent changing pastures, water-dwelling insects don't dislike shifting waters—because they grasp the fundamentals of existence. If humans can perceive the essence of all things, regarding their bodies as mere dust and viewing life and death as day and night alternating, they won't be troubled by gain and loss, fortune and misfortune. Like someone who casts off servitude, realizing their intrinsic worth surpasses any imposed status.

Laozi emphasizes: true De (Virtue/Power) flows naturally like water, requiring no forced cultivation. The perfected person's De is as naturally lofty as heaven, as inherently solid as earth, and as spontaneously luminous as the sun and moon. Hearing this, Confucius sighs to Yan Hui: his own understanding of the great Dao is as shallow as a gnat trapped in a wine jar. This dialogue reveals the core Daoist concept of "natural Wuwei (non-action)," demonstrating that true awakening must be personally realized.

When Zhuangzi met Duke Ai of Lu, the duke said: "Our state of Lu has many Confucian scholars, but few study your Daoist teachings." Zhuangzi replied: "Lu actually has very few true Confucians." Puzzled, the duke asked: "The whole country wears Confucian robes—how can you say they're few?"

Zhuangzi explained: "I've heard that genuine Confucians—those wearing round hats understand celestial timing, those in square shoes know geography, and those wearing jade pendants can make decisive judgments. But a true gentleman's learning needn't match his attire, nor does Confucian dress guarantee real knowledge. If you doubt this, issue a decree: 'Those wearing Confucian robes without true learning will face capital punishment.'" When Duke Ai implemented this, within five days no one dared wear Confucian garments—except one robed man standing at the palace gate. Summoned for state affairs, his brilliant responses proved his worth. Zhuangzi then remarked: "With only one true Confucian in all Lu, can you call that many?"

Three parables then illustrate the power of focus: Baili Xi, indifferent to rank, nurtured such thriving cattle through single-minded care that Duke Mu of Qin promoted him; Emperor Shun (of the Youyu clan), transcending life and death, moved others effortlessly; when Song Yuanjun sought painters, he recognized the true master as the latecomer who worked bare-chested, unbound by etiquette.

Finally, King Wen of Zhou encountered an old fisherman in Zang who seemed to angle yet remained utterly detached. Though wishing to employ him, the king feared ministers' objections, so he claimed ancestral spirits had ordered "the old man of Zang" to govern through a dream. His officials replied: "If the former kings decreed it, why consult divination?"

These stories share one truth: genuine ability lies not in outward form but inner cultivation; those absorbed in selfless focus achieve greatness effortlessly; the wisest rulers follow nature's flow without forcing outcomes.

The passage recounts several Daoist parables that primarily illustrate the principles of governing through Wuwei (non-action) and following the natural Dao (the Way).

When King Wen invited the fictional sage Zang the Elder to administer state affairs, during his three-year governance, Zang neither altered existing laws nor issued biased policies. As a result, scholars ceased forming cliques for personal gain, officials stopped boasting about individual achievements, even measurement vessels became standardized, and feudal lords pledged allegiance. When King Wen sought to inquire about statecraft, Zang silently departed. This resembles fishing—the true angler doesn't strive for fish but fishes naturally. It demonstrates that the highest form of governance follows nature's course without forced intervention.

When Yan Yuan asked Confucius why King Wen still sought sages through dreams, Confucius replied: King Wen had already achieved perfection, requiring no further discussion. Here "a brief moment" (斯须) signifies the instantaneous present, implying the sage's way lies in seizing the immediate moment.

The story of Lie Yukou (Liezi) archery carries deeper meaning. Shooting on level ground, he never missed, but when Bohun Wuren (an enlightened master) took him to a cliff edge, Liezi collapsed in terror. Bohun pointed out: The genuine perfected person (至人) observes the blue sky above and yellow springs below, remaining unshaken in any peril. This shows no skill surpasses natural mental composure—only by transcending fear of life and death can one attain the state of "shooting without shooting" (不射之射).

These parables collectively expound core Daoist philosophy: governance through Wuwei (non-action), self-cultivation through returning to nature, with the highest state being form-transcending unity with the Dao. Expressions like "shooting without shooting" and "fishing without fishing" serve as vivid metaphors for the principle that "through non-action, nothing is left undone" (无为而无不为).

This passage contains several allegorical stories illustrating the Daoist wisdom of "accepting gain and loss with equanimity."

The first story uses archery as a metaphor: arrows are shot one after another—as the first arrow leaves the bowstring, the next is already nocked. This mirrors life's natural rhythm of alternating gains and losses, coming and going effortlessly.

The second story features Sunshu Ao, the renowned prime minister of Chu, who neither boasted when appointed chancellor three times nor grieved when dismissed three times. He explained: "Gains and losses aren't determined by me—what comes cannot be stopped, what goes cannot be retained. Since these matters lie beyond my control, why should they trouble me?" The key lies in understanding what truly belongs to oneself.

When Confucius heard this, he marveled: "The perfected persons (zhenren) of antiquity couldn't be persuaded by wise men, seduced by beauties, or threatened by robbers. Even sage-kings like Fuxi and the Yellow Emperor couldn't make them seek favor. Matters as significant as life and death couldn't shake them—how much less official positions and salaries? Their spirit connects with mountains yet meets no obstruction, dives into deep waters yet remains dry, dwells in humble circumstances yet knows no hardship. Their vital essence fills heaven and earth. The more they give to others, the richer they become."

The dialogue between the King of Chu and the ruler of Fan State ultimately reveals the core teaching: Fan's destruction couldn't strip the Fan lord of inner fulfillment, just as Chu's existence couldn't grant the Chu king true contentment. From the fundamental perspective, Fan never truly perished, nor did Chu ever truly exist—this represents the Daoist supreme realization of "the unity of gain and loss."