《南華真經新傳》Vol. 5

In the fifth volume of the New Commentary on the Nanhua Zhenjing (Southern Florescence Scripture), the Song Dynasty scholar Wang Yuanze's interpretation of the Zhuangzi's "Great Ancestral Teacher" chapter can be understood as follows:

Those with perfected De (Virtue) can merge with the Dao, which is the universal principle governing all things in existence. Even entities as vast as heaven and earth, or as numerous as the myriad creatures, ultimately return to the same origin. This profound insight explains why Zhuangzi composed the "Great Ancestral Teacher" chapter and placed it after "The Sign of Complete Virtue."

The true sage comprehends both the movement of celestial patterns and the principles of human affairs. The Dao of heaven operates through wuwei (non-action), while the Dao of humans involves purposeful action. Non-action brings tranquility that returns one to original nature; action generates movement that must accord with righteousness. One who masters these ultimate principles of celestial and human relationships becomes the ancestral teacher of all things.

Those who understand the Dao of heaven follow nature's course to live fully, while those who comprehend human affairs use known knowledge to nurture the unknown, completing their natural lifespan without premature demise—this represents the highest wisdom. Yet such understanding has limitations: people often perceive the Dao of heaven through a state of "not-knowing" (attaining the mysterious realm of non-action), and similarly grasp human affairs through "not-knowing" (exhausting the extremes of action). The former leads to life's natural source, the latter to roaming with heaven and earth. But excessive reliance on cleverness in pursuit of knowledge may instead harm life's essence.

Knowledge depends on specific conditions that are themselves unstable. Who can determine whether what we call "heaven" isn't actually "human," or what we term "human" isn't truly "heaven"? Zhuangzi maintains that heaven and earth coalesce from primordial Qi, just as humans are aggregations of Qi. Those awakened to the Dao understand that heaven and humanity are fundamentally one, without ultimate distinction.

(Note: The subsequent explanation regarding "Zhenren" [True Person] is abbreviated due to length constraints. Zhenren refers to ancient Dao-realized beings whose characteristics include transcending life-death and uniting with the Dao—a crucial cultivation concept in Zhuangzi's philosophy.)

True practitioners of the Dao never bully the weak, flaunt their achievements, nor deliberately seek followers. Such individuals neither regret their mistakes nor grow complacent over their successes. Standing atop great heights, they feel no fear; entering water, they remain unsoaked; plunging into fire, they sense no burning. This is because their wisdom has merged with the Great Dao (the Way).

Those who unite with the transformations of Heaven and Earth, whose hearts remain pure and unattached to external things, are called "true persons" (zhenren). What we call "true" refers to one's innate nature. Because this nature is authentic, their understanding is not artificial or contrived knowledge. Thus, it is said that true persons precede true knowledge. True knowledge is actually a state of "not-knowing"—what makes true persons genuine is their maintenance of a yielding and humble attitude, appearing as if they are incomplete. They do not scheme to attract followers, yet people naturally gather around them. How could such individuals err? Even if they make mistakes, they do not dwell on gain or loss. Free from such calculations, they transcend external things and remain uncontended with them, so external things cannot harm them.

The true persons of antiquity dreamed no dreams while sleeping, harbored no worries upon waking, sought no delicacies when eating, and breathed with deep, measured rhythms. Liberated from worldly entanglements and free from emotional turmoil, they dreamed not while sleeping; content with Heaven's will and knowing their fate, they awoke without anxiety; savoring the flavorless flavor, they desired no gourmet tastes; returning to deeper stillness within stillness, their breath flowed profoundly.

The breath of true persons reaches down to their heels (symbolizing depth and continuity), while ordinary people's breath barely passes their throats. Those bound by desires speak as if retching—the deeper their desires, the shallower their innate spiritual nature (shen). The heels represent the body's foundation, while the throat is merely a passage for qi (vital energy). The foundation must not be abruptly shaken, nor qi obstructed for long. True persons breathe to their heels because they return to the root and maintain tranquility; ordinary people's breath stops at the throat because they block qi's flow. Returning to the root with stillness makes breath increasingly serene; obstructing qi's movement renders breath unsustainable. Long breath comes from desireless detachment; short breath arises from indulgence in desires.

The ancient perfected beings (those who attained the Dao) neither clung to life nor despised death. They neither rejoiced excessively at birth nor resisted death's coming, simply following nature's ebb and flow. They neither deliberately pondered life's origins nor forcibly sought its ultimate destination, joyfully accepting what life bestowed while forgetting their limited selves to return to original truth. This is called "not using human intentions to harm the Heavenly Dao, nor employing human effort to interfere with nature"—only such individuals may be called perfected beings.

These perfected beings maintain focused and tranquil minds, with serene countenances and broad foreheads. They embody autumn's crisp solemnity and spring's gentle warmth, their emotions flowing in harmony with the seasons, existing in perfect attunement with all things—none can fathom the limits of their realm.

Perfected beings regard their bodies as temporary dwellings and their senses as symbolic expressions. Content with circumstance and yielding to nature's flow, neither sorrow nor joy can disturb their hearts. Hence they "know neither delight in life nor aversion to death." Wherever they go, they adapt to their environment; wherever they dwell, they remain at ease—thus they "neither rejoice at emergence nor resist return."

That transcendent state of coming and going refers to the spirit soaring beyond physical form; that effortless movement describes the mind unbound by material constraints. They deeply comprehend the Dao's mysteries yet remain unattached to life's origins, merging with creation's work yet making no demands about final destinations. Therefore they "neither forget beginnings nor seek predetermined ends." They rejoice in receiving truth's gifts ("accept and delight in them"), forgetting limited selves to return to heavenly mandate ("forget and thus return").

Perfected beings completely follow their heart's authentic understanding without deviating from the Dao, allowing all things their natural development without interference, thereby maintaining pure original nature. This embodies the true meaning of "not using mind to sacrifice the Dao, nor humans to assist Heaven." Their attainment comes from the true self (inner sovereign) abiding in stillness without distraction; dignified bearing without frivolity, broad foreheads without affectation. Their authority needs no anger, their compassion requires no pretense—they move in perfect rhythm with the seasons, interact flawlessly with all creation. Who could measure the boundaries of their realm?

Thus when sages employ military force, they may extinguish states without losing the people's hearts; when their blessings extend through ten thousand generations, it springs not from calculated benevolence. Those attached to external interactions aren't sages; those with partial affections aren't truly humane; those constrained by seasonal concerns aren't worthies; those who can't discern benefit and harm aren't noblemen; those pursuing fame at truth's expense aren't gentlemen; those damaging their bodies and violating nature cannot govern others. The fox, though cunning, lacks the leopard's purity; though swift, cannot match the tiger's majesty.

This scripture reveals the essence of Daoist cultivation by contrasting ordinary people with genuine adepts (zhenren). Historical figures like Wu Guang, Bo Yi, Shu Qi, Ji Zi, Xu Yu, Ji Ta, and Shentu Di exemplify those entangled in worldly affairs—seeking external validation while losing their true selves. They become slaves to material things, drifting with the current, unable to settle their inherent nature.

True Dao-realized individuals, however, attain the state of "forgetting the small self to merge with the great Dao" (wu sang wo). Guided by the Dao, their minds remain undisturbed by external influences. They master material things without being enslaved by them, follow their nature without being constrained by it. The historical figures, by contrast, neither forget their petty selves nor preserve their true nature; they neither follow the Dao nor resist temporal pressures, thus failing to find their proper place in life.

The ancient zhenren embodied these qualities: they upheld Daoist principles without forming factions, appeared incomplete yet made no deliberate effort to compensate; they had clear edges but weren’t rigid, broad-minded yet never ostentatious; their expressions radiated joy as if celebrating something, their movements flowed effortlessly without pause; their serene countenances reflected cultivation, their profound virtue (De) naturally drew others to them; they commanded respect like rulers of the world, yet remained transcendent and unconstrained; in silence, they seemed to close the gates of their minds, and in wordlessness, they became one with primordial harmony.

Zhenren take the laws of heaven (xing, natural principles) as their foundation, ritual propriety (li) as their support, wisdom (zhi) to adapt to changing times, and virtue (De) as their guiding standard. With heaven’s principles as their root, they face life and death with equanimity; with ritual as their aid, they navigate the world unimpeded; with wisdom responding to circumstances, they flow with events; with virtue as their compass, they ascend life’s heights as naturally as one with feet climbs a hill. Ordinary people mistake this for deliberate effort.

Heaven’s laws (tian xing) represent celestial ordination—all things follow their inherent destiny. This is the profound meaning of "taking natural principles as the foundation." Ritual (li) is like walking: when the path is correct, one arrives without strain, hence "using ritual as wings." Wisdom (zhi) must remain flexible to keep pace with the times, thus "employing wisdom as timing." Virtue (De) arises from inner contentment, manifesting spontaneously in daily conduct—this is why they "follow virtue as their path." Life and death are but fleeting phases; why cling excessively? Thus, by taking heaven’s principles as root, one transcends them. The Dao has no end, yet we practice without cease—this is how ritual as support enables passage through the world, adapting to each era’s transformations.

This passage elucidates the realm and worldly attitude of Daoist perfected beings (zhenren). The actions of perfected beings—those who have attained the supreme state through Daoist cultivation—are never forced but always follow natural spontaneity. Like knowing one must act when the moment arrives, though possessing feet yet unaware why they walk. The perfected take De (Virtue) as their standard, just as those with feet naturally reach the hills without conscious effort.

The four perfected beings don't deliberately display their cultivation, yet people call them diligent practitioners. They maintain equanimity toward both desirable and undesirable things—this "uniformity" represents their unity with the Dao of Heaven, while their "non-uniformity" manifests in interacting with ordinary people. Being free from discriminatory thoughts, they preserve pristine simplicity; simultaneously embracing differences, they harmonize with the multitude. Following nature means "being a companion to Heaven," while conforming to worldly ways means "being a companion to men."

The Dao of Heaven and human affairs aren't opposed—this is the realm of perfected beings. Life and death alternate like day and night, being natural patterns beyond human control. People revere Heaven as their father—how much more should they venerate the supremely transcendent Dao? Men consider rulers nobler than themselves and willingly die for them—how much more for the true Dao?

When springs dry up, fish stranded on land moisten each other with spit—far better to forget one another while swimming freely in rivers and lakes. Rather than praising Emperor Yao and condemning Tyrant Jie, better to forget both and merge with the Great Dao. The world's praise and blame reflect mundane conventions—though sages may respond outwardly, their inner serenity remains undisturbed. Those who deliberately pursue transcendence or flaunt their disregard for worldly affairs actually betray Zhuangzi's original intent.

The earth bears my physical form, life makes me labor, old age brings me repose, and death grants me rest. Thus those who cherish life properly can face death serenely. Perfected beings neither covet the ease of old age nor crave the rest of death—this simply describes how physical forms work throughout their existence.