《南華真經新傳》Vol. 20

This passage from the New Commentary on the Zhuangzi elucidates the essence of the Dao and its manifold manifestations in the world. Through his interpretation of Zhuangzi's "All Under Heaven" chapter, Wang Yuanze reveals the relationship between the primordial Dao and the various schools of thought.

The true Dao of sages should remain whole and unified. Once fragmented, it becomes superficial and chaotic, leading to the disunity of moral standards in the world. It was for this reason that Zhuangzi composed "All Under Heaven" to clarify this principle.

Many scholars under heaven study various doctrines, each believing their theories to be perfect and unsurpassable. But where does the "art of the Dao" spoken of by the ancients truly reside? In truth, it is omnipresent. From where does divine revelation emerge? How is wisdom born? How do sages arise? How do true kings achieve their status? All originate from the same root.

When the Dao of sages became fragmented, the Hundred Schools of Thought emerged. Various theories spread across the world but could not achieve unity, with each school convinced it had exhausted all truth. How could they know that principle is not confined to any single school? The ancient "art of the Dao" is everywhere—its subtle essence manifests as Shenming (divine luminosity), its concrete expression becomes wisdom, internally it perfects sages, and externally it establishes true kings, all stemming from the same source.

When Zhuangzi expounds the Great Dao at the conclusion of his work, he particularly highlights the relationship between these four: the divine, the luminous, the sage, and the king. Those who do not deviate from the Dao's origin are called "heavenly humans" (those united with heaven); those who do not deviate from Jing (essence) and Qi are called "spiritual humans" (those who comprehend the divine); those who do not deviate from their true nature are called "perfected humans" (those who reach the highest state). Those who take the heavenly Dao as their root, virtue as their foundation, and the Great Dao as their gateway—who can foresee transformations—are called sages.

Using benevolence to bestow kindness, righteousness to handle affairs, ritual to regulate conduct, and music to harmonize emotions—those overflowing with compassion and humaneness are called noble persons. Using laws to define duties, names to establish standards, comparison for verification, and examination for decisions—these concrete methods form the basis for officials administering governance. Taking daily affairs as routine, food and clothing as primary concerns, caring for the elderly, weak, orphaned, and widowed—these constitute the principles for governing the people.

The "ancestral" refers to the fundamental source of the Dao. Since the Dao's origin comes from heaven, those who do not deviate from this source are called "heavenly humans." "Essence" (Jing) refers to the state not yet separated from Yang Qi (vital energy).

This passage elucidates the hierarchical stages of Daoist cultivation and the distinctive qualities of the Sage's path:

The path of cultivation comprises four levels: Divine Persons (Shenren) maintain undispersed pure essence (Jing) and vital energy (Qi); Perfect Persons (Zhiren) preserve their innate true nature undisturbed by external phenomena; Sages (Shengren) take the natural Dao of heaven as their foundation, virtue (De) as their basis, and the Great Dao as their gateway; while Noble Persons (Junzi) embody virtues like benevolence, righteousness, ritual propriety, and harmonious music. Among these, the Noble Person's attainment ranks below that of Perfect Persons, Heavenly Persons and Divine Persons.

The ancient Dao-realized ones achieved consummate perfection - they became counterparts to the divine, harmonized with heaven and earth, nurtured all beings, balanced the world, and showered blessings upon the people. They comprehended both fundamental principles and concrete methods, understanding the operational patterns of all things whether great or small, refined or coarse. These truths are extensively recorded in historical texts and classical works, with the poetry, documents, rituals and music classics being particularly mastered by scholars of the Zou-Lu region.

The Sage's Dao appears mysteriously unfathomable yet benefits all things - as refined as heaven and earth, its transformative nourishment pervades all living beings. Its blessings spread universally, existing simultaneously in subtle essence and concrete manifestations. From the most exquisite to the most ordinary, the Sage's Dao permeates everywhere. The subtle essence of this Dao originates from profound metaphysical truth, granting it unique insight; while its concrete expressions reside in normative principles, making it practicable for ordinary people. Thus learned scholars can comprehend these truths as recorded in classical texts.

Zhuangzi ultimately elucidated the true essence of Confucian teachings. The ancient classics each had their focus: the Book of Songs (Shijing) expressed aspirations, the Book of Documents (Shangshu) recorded governance, the Book of Rites (Liji) regulated conduct, the Classic of Music (Yuejing) harmonized emotions, the Book of Changes (Yijing) revealed the transformations of Yin-Yang, and the Spring and Autumn Annals (Chunqiu) established hierarchical norms. These teachings spread throughout the land and gave rise to the Hundred Schools of Thought in the Central Plains. Though each claimed authority, they plunged the world into chaos—the Dao of the sages was obscured, moral standards fragmented, and each school became self-satisfied with its narrow perspective, much like ears, eyes, noses, and mouths each having their function but unable to communicate. The Hundred Schools were like specialized crafts—each skilled in its own way yet incomplete. These biased scholars fractured the holistic beauty of heaven and earth, dismembered the complete principles of all things, and rarely grasped the full breadth of the great Dao of the cosmos.

Zhuangzi’s vision transcended worldly concerns. Unperturbed by external things, he remained steadfast in the Dao. He was not ignorant of benevolence and righteousness (Ren-Yi) but considered them too limited; nor did he reject ritual and music (Li-Yue), but saw them as superficial. As Laozi said: "When the great Dao (Da Dao) declined, virtue (De) was emphasized; when virtue declined, humaneness (Ren) was promoted; when humaneness faded, justice (Yi) was upheld; and when justice collapsed, ritual (Li) was instituted." Thus, Zhuangzi profoundly understood the true meaning of benevolence, righteousness, ritual, and music—yet regarded them as mere branches of the Dao. Though Confucian teachings were refined, they failed to grasp Zhuangzi’s depth. Even those who admired Zhuangzi’s words might read his texts without truly comprehending them.

By Zhuangzi’s time, the legacy of the ancient kings had nearly vanished. Society was rife with cunning and hypocrisy, and innate simplicity had dissipated. Even scholars and officials no longer understood the principle of "valuing the inner and belittling the outer." People abandoned propriety and righteousness (Li-Yi) to compete for profit, chasing fame and gain without shame, losing themselves without realizing it—until they were mired beyond redemption. Distressed by this, Zhuangzi sought to rectify the age through his teachings. He recognized that benevolence, righteousness, ritual, and music alone could no longer save the world. Thus, he proposed "dissolving the boundaries of right and wrong," "equating self and other," and "indifference to gain and loss," elevating the contentment of the heart-mind (Xin) as the highest attainment.

This passage discusses how Zhuangzi used his teachings to rectify the social maladies of his time. While employing his theories to correct contemporary ills, Zhuangzi was unconcerned that future generations might rigidly adhere to his doctrines at the expense of the fundamental truth of heaven and earth or the holistic wisdom of ancient sages. Thus, he embedded his philosophy within this text as a means of self-clarification.

The text references how the Book of Songs (Shijing) expresses aspirations, the Book of Documents (Shangshu) records governance, the Book of Rites (Liji) regulates conduct, the Classic of Music (Yuejing) harmonizes emotions, the Book of Changes (Yijing) elucidates Yin-Yang transformations, and the Spring and Autumn Annals (Chunqiu) establishes social roles. These examples demonstrate that Zhuangzi was not ignorant of the Dao of the sages. He illustrates this by comparing the distinct yet irreplaceable functions of ears, eyes, nose, and mouth to the specialized strengths of various philosophical schools—each valuable in its proper context.

Zhuangzi places his own writings alongside the partial and incomplete doctrines of thinkers like Song Jian, Shen Dao, Mo Di, and Lao Dan (Laozi), deliberately showing his teachings as targeted remedies rather than complete expressions of the Dao. Nevertheless, his underlying intention aligns with that of the sage-reformers Boyi (renowned for purity) and Liuxia Hui (known for harmony), who likewise sought to correct their era's failings.

The true "inner sageliness and outer kingliness" (neisheng waiwang)—where inner cultivation reaches sagehood and outer achievements manifest kingly virtue—remains obscured. Instead, people act according to personal desires, clinging stubbornly to partial views. Tragically, the hundred schools of thought fixate on fragments without returning to the source, making synthesis impossible. Later scholars, failing to perceive heaven-earth's fundamental truth or the ancients' holistic wisdom, will inevitably fragment the Dao.

When the Dao resides inwardly, it constitutes sageliness; when manifested outwardly, it becomes kingliness. The competing rise of various philosophical schools obscures the true Dao, rendering it dim and indistinct. Since the heavenly Dao remains unilluminated and hidden, how can ordinary people perceive its complete purity? That later scholars cannot see the Dao's wholeness explains why Daoist practice fractured and competing doctrines proliferated. Thus, Zhuangzi first declares "the Dao will be split apart by the world" before analyzing the differences among philosophical schools—this being the logical sequence of his argument.

This passage critiques certain doctrines and practices of the Mohist school. Mo Di (Mozi), the founder of Mohism, and his disciples like Qin Guli advocated a return to ancient simplicity, promoting frugality, rejecting material indulgence, and opposing elaborate rituals. They established principles such as "condemning music" (opposing musical enjoyment) and "economizing expenditures" (advocating thrift), believing people shouldn't sing during life nor practice lavish burials after death.

Mozi championed "universal love" and "mutual benefit," opposed conflict, discouraged anger, and was himself a diligent scholar with broad knowledge. Yet his teachings clashed with the ritual-music systems of ancient sage-kings. From the Yellow Emperor to King Wu of Zhou, each era maintained specific ceremonial and musical traditions, with graded funeral rites. Mozi, however, insisted on using only a three-inch-thick paulownia wood coffin without outer casing, considering this the proper standard.

The author argues that while Mozi's practices appear compassionate, they ultimately demonstrate neither love for others nor for oneself. His doctrines were excessively austere, creating anxiety and sorrow, making them impractical and contrary to human nature. Though Mozi admired Yu the Great's tireless flood-control efforts and required later Mohists to wear coarse clothes and straw sandals while practicing asceticism day and night, such extreme living could hardly embody the Dao of sages.

The text concludes by noting Mohism's later fragmentation into factions like Xiangli Qin, Wu Hou, Ku Huo Ji Chi, and Deng Lingzi. Though all recited the Mohist Canon, their interpretations diverged, each accusing others of heresy while engaging in debates about "hardness/whiteness" and "sameness/difference." This reveals how Mohist teachings became fractured and transformed during later transmission.

This passage primarily critiques the philosophical doctrines of the Mohist school (founded by Mo Di and Qin Guli) as well as the teachings of Song Jian, Yin Wen, and others.

The Mohist school advocated asceticism, promoting an extreme frugality epitomized by the saying "no flesh on the calves, no hair on the shins," which they considered virtuous conduct. While the author acknowledges that Mozi (the founder of Mohism) genuinely cared for the world, such excessively harsh living standards ultimately disrupted the order of social governance. Mohist disciples willingly endured hunger and hardship, tirelessly working day and night to save the world, yet their methods were far too extreme.

Next, the discussion turns to the school of Song Jian and Yin Wen. They wore the Huashan cap, a symbol of equality, and advocated eliminating prejudice (别宥 bieyou), studying mental activities (心之容 xin zhi rong), and promoting conflict resolution (聏合驩 er he huan). They traveled tirelessly, preaching even when unwelcome, spreading pacifist ideas such as "being insulted is no disgrace" (见侮不辱 jian wu bu ru) and "opposing war and halting aggression" (禁攻寝兵 jin gong qin bing). These individuals lived with extreme austerity, content with just five sheng of rice to stave off hunger, yet never ceased striving to save the world.

Finally, the text addresses the philosophies of Peng Meng, Tian Pian, and Shen Dao. They held "equalizing all things" (齐万物 qi wanwu) as their primary principle, believing that Heaven and Earth each had their own capacities and limitations, while the Dao (the fundamental law of the universe) embraced all things without discrimination. They advocated impartiality, aligning with nature, avoiding deliberate scheming, and harmonizing with all existence.

Though these schools differed in their specific doctrines, they all reflected the ancient Daoist tradition of "acting for the world" (为天下 wei tianxia), albeit through varying approaches to practice.

This passage primarily discusses the philosophical views of Shen Dao (a Daoist thinker from the Warring States period), along with the ideas of representative Daoist figures like Guan Yin and Laozi (Lao Dan). Here's the modern interpretation:

Shen Dao believed that all things in the world have their feasible and unfeasible aspects. He advocated abandoning subjective human cognition and acting in accordance with natural laws. He criticized the contemporary social trend of venerating talent and virtue, arguing that true wisdom doesn't lie in deliberate pursuit but should operate naturally like inanimate objects—just as whirlwinds spiral, feathers float, and millstones turn, maintaining their complete nature without violating natural principles. This way, one achieves appropriate movement and stillness without committing errors.

Shen Dao proposed: Objects without subjective consciousness neither invite disaster through novelty-seeking nor bear burdens through clever artifice. All their movements perfectly align with natural laws, thus remaining free from praise or blame throughout existence. He considered the highest state to be achieving the condition of inanimate objects, making the veneration of sages entirely unnecessary.

Contemporary intellectuals mocked Shen Dao's doctrine as resembling "a dead man's philosophy." Tian Pian shared similar views, having studied under Peng Meng while advocating non-deliberate teaching. Peng Meng's teacher held that ancient Dao-realized individuals neither affirmed what was right nor denied what was wrong. Their teachings flowed naturally like the wind, without catering to worldly expectations, yet ultimately still faced misunderstanding.

Though the doctrines of Peng Meng, Tian Pian, and Shen Dao were considered unorthodox, they had all encountered genuine Daoist teachings. True Daoist practice regards fundamentals as subtle essence and concrete matters as coarse manifestations, considering accumulated knowledge ultimately insufficient—one should instead cultivate serene detachment and commune with the divine.

When Guan Yin and Laozi (Lao Dan) encountered this intellectual current, they greatly admired it. They established the doctrine of "constant non-being and being," taking the "Great One" (Taiji, the cosmic origin) as its core. They advocated external manifestations of softness and humility while embodying the essential quality of embracing all things. Guan Yin said: "Don't cling to selfhood—let things manifest naturally. Move like flowing water, remain still like a clear mirror, respond like an accurate echo. Be indistinct as if nonexistent, yet luminously aware in stillness. Harmonize with all things to gain; force things and you'll lose. Never rush ahead, but always follow behind."

Laozi added: "Know the masculine thoroughly yet abide in the feminine, becoming the world's valley. Be fully aware of brightness yet dwell content in obscurity."

This passage describes the worldly wisdom of Daoist sages. Ancient perfected beings like Guan Yin and Laozi (Lao Dan) embodied emptiness and humility, willingly taking the rear position. While others rushed ahead competitively, they consciously yielded; where people pursued solid benefits, they maintained emptiness; when humanity sought blessings and honors, they accepted imperfection, simply avoiding calamity.

They took profundity as their foundation and simplicity as their standard, understanding that what appears strong is actually fragile, and what seems sharp is easily broken. Maintaining tolerance toward all things without harsh judgment, they reached the highest state of being. These perfected ones seemed formless and indistinct, yet they flowed with transformation, coexisting with heaven and earth while communing with spiritual forces (Shen). Vaguely unaware of their destination, suddenly appearing without apparent movement, they embraced all things without becoming constrained.

When Zhuangzi (Zhuang Zhou) encountered this tradition, he was deeply inspired and expressed it through seemingly absurd language. Recognizing that people were lost in worldly turbidity and couldn't communicate through solemn discourse, he employed unrestrained words to convey truth—drawing on ancient wisdom while spreading understanding through allegories. He wandered freely with the spirit of heaven and earth yet never disparaged the myriad things; unattached to judgments of right and wrong, he harmonized with conventional society.

His writings, though unconventional, formed a coherent whole; his words, though uneven, remained profoundly meaningful. His inner abundance overflowed endlessly—above, he roamed with the Creator; below, he befriended those who transcended life and death. At the root, his vision was vast and open; in purpose, penetrating and sublime. Though he adapted to change and rose above material concerns, the principles within were inexhaustible, profound beyond measure.

The passage concludes with Hui Shi, a logician whose learning was broad yet fragmented. He proposed paradoxes like "The supremely great has no beyond—call it the Great One; the supremely small has no within—call it the Small One," discussing the infinite extension of space and the relativity of time (the noon sun already begins to decline; creatures begin dying the moment they're born), along with theories about the similarities and differences among things.

This passage primarily critiques the thought patterns of debaters like Hui Shi (scholars skilled in argumentation). The text points out that Hui Shi proposed a series of seemingly profound propositions, such as "interlocking rings can be separated," "the area north of Yan and south of Yue is the center of the world," "eggs have feathers," and "horses can lay eggs." While these statements might intrigue other debaters and spark endless disputes, they ultimately deviate from the Dao (the Way).

Hui Shi delighted in using his intellect to debate others, specializing in all sorts of peculiar claims. When the southern scholar Huang Liao asked him questions like "why don’t heaven and earth fall?" or "how are wind, rain, and thunder formed?" he answered without hesitation, expounding endlessly on the nature of all things. Feeling this wasn’t enough, he piled on even more bizarre theories. He constantly sought to outdo others with counterintuitive arguments to win fame, but this only made him stand apart from the crowd.

Zhuangzi believed that while Hui Shi excelled in debate techniques, he was lacking in moral cultivation (De). From the perspective of the great Dao of heaven and earth, Hui Shi’s talents were as insignificant as the busyness of fleas and mosquitoes. Obsessed with debating all things, he never found inner peace, ultimately earning nothing more than a reputation for being "skilled in argumentation." It’s regrettable that his talents were wasted in such a manner—like chasing echoes or racing against shadows, utterly futile.

The text also mentions other debaters like Huan Tuan and Gongsun Long, noting that while they could bewitch minds with ornate rhetoric and sway others’ opinions, winning verbal battles, they could never truly earn heartfelt respect. This is the inherent limitation of such debaters.

This passage discusses ancient thinkers such as Guan Yin, Laozi (Lao Dan), Hui Shi, Tuan Tuan, and Gongsun Long. While all claimed to inherit the Dao of ancient sages, in reality they each drew upon fragments of the sagely tradition to form distinct schools of thought.

The text particularly elevates Guan Yin and Laozi as "Zhenren" (Perfected Persons in Daoist terminology), because their teachings did not rely on external constructs. Their words flowed purely from their authentic nature, earning them recognition as ancient masters of profound and comprehensive wisdom who had attained the Dao.

The author notes that Zhou dynasty contemporaries dismissed these teachings as absurd and boundless. This perception arose precisely because such philosophies operated on a plane so elevated that they completely transcended mundane understanding, serving specifically to rectify societal flaws. Consequently, ordinary people inevitably found their writings bizarre and disconnected from reality. The text suggests these thinkers anticipated such reactions not through prescience, but through understanding how their doctrines would necessarily be misunderstood by conventional standards.

(Note: Guan Yin was a Daoist figure traditionally considered Laozi's disciple; Lao Dan is Laozi; Hui Shi and Gongsun Long were representatives of the School of Names; little is known about Tuan Tuan's life.)