《南華真經註疏》Vol. 10

Are fused toes and extra fingers congenital? They simply extend beyond the usual measure.

Explanation: Pian means joined together; mu means the big toe. Fused toes occur when the big toe and second toe are joined, forming a single toe. An extra finger is one that grows beside the thumb, resulting in six fingers. “Arising from one’s nature” means that both conditions belong to the natural endowment of life and are present from birth. “Excess” means something additional. Here, De refers to the five virtues of benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness. Zeng Shen and Shi Qiu were endowed with these five virtues and held them within themselves; they were not something superfluous.

Are attached lumps of flesh and hanging little warts things that grow from the body? They simply extend beyond the usual measure.

Note: The fact that something grows does not make it superfluous, just as something lacking does not make it deficient. Fused toes and skin tags both arise from the body and its nature; neither comes from outside. Whether the toes are joined or separate, each arrangement is complete in itself. Fused toes merely seem to others to be an excess, which is why they are called “excess.” The deluded may sometimes think they do not arise from nature and try to cut them off and discard them. In doing so, they cause the Dao to be lost and De to be unable to sustain them. People abandon their own endowments, and things are left unused. Can this really be what it means to bring governance to perfection?

Things in the world vary in size, and their capacities vary in amount. A larger part is called “fused”; a greater amount is called an “appendage.” Fused and appendaged forms differ from one thing to another. If things are not allowed to follow their nature, then the natures of all things are being discarded.

Explanation: Attached lumps of flesh and hanging little warts grow only after the body has taken shape. To say they “extend beyond nature” would be like saying that the extraordinary gifts of sight and hearing possessed by Li Zhu and Shi Kuang—figures famed for their keen vision and hearing—are abilities within body and mind, not acquired through later study, and therefore cannot be considered additions beyond nature.

Taking up the many aspects of benevolence and righteousness and putting them into practice: although these virtues exist within body and mind, they are not the proper way of De.

Note: Those who merge with the myriad things and accord with them do not think they possess too much. Although expressions of benevolence and righteousness exist within body and mind, they are merely the standards of one particular school. They cannot yet accord with the myriad things and enable each thing to set its nature and life aright, so they are not the proper way of De. The differences between things in the world, whether in abundance or scarcity, are endless, but each has its own measure of how much or how little it should have. Even the slightest difference cannot be imposed upon another. Therefore, when each keeps to its own proper bounds, both abundance and scarcity find their proper place. Yet some people, hearing that “abundance” is somehow inadequate…

If standards called “the right way” praise some people simply because they have less feeling for benevolence and righteousness, then reject others because they have more, does this not mean praising a small group on behalf of everyone under Heaven while leaving everyone else aside? Is that not absurd?

This passage examines different approaches to the Dao. People such as Zeng Shen and Shi Qiu were especially strong in the Virtue of benevolence and righteousness. It was as if they had gathered these qualities into themselves one by one and then put them into practice. Yet this was ultimately only the view of one school; it did not yet accord spontaneously with the whole of the myriad things. Someone who truly accords with the myriad things does not cling to benevolence or righteousness, but responds to each situation as it arises: acting with benevolence when benevolence is called for, and acting righteously when the situation calls for it. Benevolence and righteousness need not be fixed in abundance or in scarcity; they should adapt flexibly as circumstances change, without becoming attached to either extreme. This is the proper principle of the Dao and De.

Thus, when the toes are joined together, an extra piece of useless flesh has grown; when a branch finger grows beside the hand, an extra useless finger has appeared.

These bodily forms arise naturally. They did not grow this way in order to serve some useful purpose.

Joined toes do not help a person walk. Though connected, they are ultimately just useless flesh. A branch finger growing on the hand does not help a person grasp things, so even though it is there, it remains a useless finger. The point is that the forms people receive from nature are not shaped because they can be put to use.

When feelings of benevolence and righteousness exceed a person’s nature, they are like joined toes or a branch finger. Someone who does not naturally excel in benevolence and righteousness but forces themselves to imitate such conduct will veer into distortion.

The dispositions contained in the Five Viscera naturally differ from one another. If someone whose dispositions are less pronounced forces themselves to imitate and exalt qualities they do not possess, they may become excessively fixated and lose their inner balance.

People like Zeng Shen and Shi Qiu naturally had a stronger inclination toward benevolence and righteousness. Those with less of these qualities, however, altered their own nature, envied them, and adopted their conduct as a rule for themselves. In doing so, they did not follow the principle of Heaven but went against their own nature, ultimately falling into distortion. “Excess” means indulgence or going too far; “deviation” means what is not upright.

The same problem arises when people unrelentingly seek to increase the use of their intelligence and abilities.

Intelligence and abilities each have natural limits. Having more ability in one area does not mean having too much; having less does not mean being deficient. Yet when people’s desires are pulled along by external things, they often look down on what is scarce and value what is abundant. Seeing a particular ability prized by others, they force themselves to pursue and exalt it. As a result, they go beyond the measure allotted to them by nature and damage their innate nature. If they can let go of their attachment to what is prized and maintain their own proper measure, then, whatever their abilities may be in number or kind, each person can preserve what is theirs.

People like Li Zhu and Shi Kuang were naturally endowed with exceptional sight and hearing. Is it not absurd for those whose nature does not particularly excel in these areas to force themselves to imitate and pursue the same abilities, making them their goal?

Thus, those with overly acute vision are thrown into confusion by the five colors and elaborate patterns. Blue, yellow, and other colors interweave into ornate patterns of ritual embroidery that are certainly dazzling; Li Zhu, the legendary figure of exceptionally keen eyesight, is an example of this kind of person.

The commentary explains that a pattern shaped like an axe is called fu (黼), while a pattern of two human figures turned away from each other is called fu (黻). Blue-green, yellow, red, white, and black are the five colors. Blue-green paired with red forms a pattern; red paired with white produces decorative brilliance. A dazzling radiance that makes the eyes swim—isn’t that the work of Li Zhu? Exactly. Here, “assist” is a particle. Li Zhu, also known as Li Lou, was a man of extraordinary eyesight in the time of the Yellow Emperor, able to see a fine hair a hundred li away.

To hear better than ordinary people can also lead one to become absorbed in the sounds of the five notes, the six pitch standards, and instruments made of metal, stone, silk, and bamboo, even music in the registers of Huangzhong and Dalu. Isn’t that the condition of Shi Kuang? Exactly.

The commentary says that people with ears and eyes do not imprison themselves by envying the deaf or the blind. What truly troubles people is often their single-minded admiration for figures like Li Zhu and Shi Kuang. Though Li Zhu and Shi Kuang were naturally gifted, they too could become sources of disturbance to the ears and eyes, confining the mind and spirit.

The commentary explains that the five notes are gong, shang, jue, zhi, and yu. The six pitch standards include Huangzhong, Dalu, Guxian, Ruibin, Wushe, and Jiazhong. The six lü standards belong to Yang, and the six lü standards known as lü belong to Yin; together they make up the twelve pitch standards. Metal, stone, silk, bamboo, gourd, clay, hide, and wood are collectively called the eight kinds of sound. The question “Isn’t that Shi Kuang?” means: if a person becomes attached to music and is held fast by sound, isn’t that just like Shi Kuang? Shi Kuang, whose courtesy name was Ziye, was the musician of Duke Ping of Jin and had a profound command of musical pitch. Li Zhu and Shi Kuang were both naturally gifted. If people of ordinary ability admire them single-mindedly, they will lose their own nature—isn’t that a form of confinement? Thus, even the brilliance of Li Zhu and Shi Kuang can disturb the ears and eyes and become a source of constraint.

Those who become fixated on benevolence and righteousness deliberately cultivate a particular virtue while obstructing their own inborn nature. They use this to win a reputation, stirring the people of the world as though they had heard music played on pipes and drums, and urging them to follow standards beyond their abilities. Isn’t this the condition of Zeng Shen and Shi Qiu? Exactly.

The commentary says that Zeng Shen and Shi Qiu were naturally inclined toward benevolence and righteousness, but some people who were not suited to these qualities nevertheless admired and imitated them. Once imitated, their displays of benevolence and righteousness became artificial. People of the world do not admire Jie and Zhi, but they certainly admire Zeng Shen and Shi Qiu. So the influence of Zeng Shen and Shi Qiu on the people can cause them to lose their true nature, with consequences even more serious than those of Jie and Zhi.

The commentary explains that “branching out in benevolence” means that a person has an excess of benevolence and righteousness in their nature, like a supernumerary finger growing from the hand. Deliberately cultivating one particular virtue leads to imbalance and fixation, which in turn obstructs one’s upright nature. People use this approach in their dealings with others to gather a reputation. As a result, the crowd rushes about in competition, as if the sounds of pipes could stir people’s hearts and make them eagerly admire what they hear. Zeng Shen and Shi Qiu were naturally inclined toward benevolence and righteousness. Those who were not naturally suited to them nevertheless admired them, abandoned their own strengths and weaknesses, and turned to imitating others. That is why this is called “following standards beyond one’s abilities.”

This passage discusses two deviant tendencies in thought. First, it addresses how "flaunting false virtue" obscures one's true nature, citing the positive examples of Zeng Shen (styled Ziyu, a disciple of Confucius) and Shi Qiu (styled Ziyu, a minister of Wei), both naturally benevolent and filial individuals.

It then critiques two types of obstinate debaters: those who, like piling tiles or tying knots, play with rhetoric while obsessing over sophistry like the "hardness and whiteness, similarity and difference" debates (the School of Names' abstract arguments about object properties); and representatives like Yang Zhu and Mo Di. Yang Zhu (styled Ziju, from Song) advocated "egoism," while Mo Di (i.e., Mozi, a Song official) promoted Mohist doctrines—both adept at using abstruse and perilous rhetoric to stir emotions, stubbornly clinging to their views while obscuring simple truths. Their debates resemble bundling and hiding objects, fixating on impractical propositions like "hardness and whiteness," ultimately confined to fault-finding circles.

The text describes their self-righteousness with the term "蹩躠" (limping gait), portraying such scholars as flaunting shallow knowledge and bewildering the masses with useless words—veritable disruptors of thought. The author likens these doctrines to "extra toes or fingers" ("骈拇枝指"), innate yet superfluous appendages. The true Dao does not unify the world under any single school but lets all things abide in their authentic states.

Finally, it emphasizes that while these debaters may be naturally eloquent, their traits are like congenital extra digits—personal peculiarities. Foolish people, however, abandon their inherent nature to imitate them, pursuing what lies beyond their proper roles, only to be led astray by doctrines that "use one standard to correct ten thousand." This proves their theories are far from the ultimate truth of the world.

Each thing follows its own nature and preserves its original character; this is called “rightness.” Here, “nature” means the innate nature of each thing, and “nature and life” means each thing’s inborn character and proper lot in life. Every thing finds its proper place, and so it is said to “lose nothing.” The preceding passage discussed the harm caused by forcibly correcting one’s nature; what follows discusses the benefits of living in accord with it.

What is joined together is not thereby an unnecessary growth; what branches out is not thereby a superfluous offshoot. Someone who measures the whole by its branches will say that the whole has an extra part. Someone who measures the branches by the whole will say that the branches are malformed. In fact, the whole is not superfluous, and the branches are not malformed.

What is long is not excessive, and what is short is not deficient. Measure the long by the short, and you will say it is too long; measure the short by the long, and you will say it is too short.

Those described as “long” include Zeng Shen, Shi Qiu, Li Zhu, Shi Kuang, as well as Yang Zhu and Mo Di. They were born with exceptional gifts for benevolence and righteousness, intelligence, and eloquence, surpassing ordinary people; hence they are called “long.” They acted in accord with their nature and were not excessive. Those described as “short” are ordinary people who do not possess talents like those of Zeng Shen and the others. They, too, follow their nature and are not deficient.

Thus, although a wild duck’s legs are short, it would be distressed if they were lengthened; although a crane’s legs are long, it would be saddened if they were cut short.

The commentary says: Every thing has standards suited to itself. One must not use the standard for one thing to measure another and then arbitrarily add to or subtract from it.

The subcommentary explains: “Fu” means wild duck; “crane” refers to cranes and similar birds; “shins” means legs. Nature brings forth all things, whose forms may be long or short, yet each form is complete in itself and suited to its own needs. Some people, however, would cut a crane’s legs short and lengthen a duck’s legs to make them look alike. This goes against nature’s creation and harms their inborn character, bringing distress and sadness.

Therefore, what is naturally long should not be cut short, and what is naturally short should not be lengthened. When we understand that each thing’s proper lot should not be arbitrarily diminished or enlarged, and let it follow its own nature, there is nothing to cause distress; distress then fades away of its own accord.

The subcommentary continues: All things that receive their nature and take on a form each have their own limits and measures. Differences such as length and shortness, brightness and darkness, each have their inherent allotment.

Just as a wild duck’s feet and a crane’s legs differ in length, they should not be forcibly shortened or lengthened. Each should simply remain true to its own nature.

If the heart is not burdened by external things, worries will fade of themselves.

Is benevolence and righteousness not part of human nature?

Note: Benevolence and righteousness are already part of human feelings and nature. One need only let them unfold naturally.

Why, then, do those who call themselves benevolent and virtuous have so many worries?

Note: If they worry because they fear that benevolence and righteousness are not part of human nature, then their worry truly is excessive.

Commentary: Here, “Yi!” is an exclamation of lament. The feelings of benevolence and righteousness arise from the principle of Heaven. When people follow their nature, they possess them naturally; they do not acquire them by imitation and study. Those who make a name for themselves through benevolence and righteousness, such as Zeng Shen and Shi Qiu, do not grasp the truth. Instead, they deliberately urge people on, claiming that benevolence and righteousness can be cultivated through learning. Zhuangzi deeply laments this confusion, and so he cries out. The more insistently they exhort others in the name of benevolence and righteousness, the more they make people worry. That is why he says they are “full of worries.” “Is benevolence and righteousness not part of human feeling?” means that benevolence and righteousness are already part of human feelings and nature.

Moreover, people whose toes are webbed together will cry if someone forcibly separates them. People with an extra finger will cry if someone forcibly bites it off. In one case, there are more fingers than usual; in the other, fewer. Yet the anguish they feel is the same.

Note: Those who think they have too few toes cry as they try to separate their webbed toes; those who think they have too many fingers cry as they try to bite off the extra one. If people always act this way, then even amid the differences among all things in the world, there will be nowhere to escape worry. Only when each thing abides by its own nature—without separating webbed toes or biting off extra fingers—can it follow its natural course without being harmed. What, then, is there to worry about?

Commentary: “He” means to bite off; “jue” means to separate. “More than usual” refers to having six fingers; “fewer than usual” refers to webbed toes that appear to make only four. Webbed toes and extra fingers are both natural as they are. One should simply let them be, without fretting over having more or less. Yet some people cannot be content with things as they are. They insist on judging right and wrong, deeming extra fingers excessive and webbed toes deficient, and forcibly separate or bite them off to make five. This harms what is natural, and so they cry out. Though separating toes and biting off fingers are different actions, the anguish they bring is the same.

Today’s benevolent people are deeply troubled, lamenting the world’s calamities.

Note: If the practice of caring for others impartially is held up as a model worthy of admiration, people’s minds throughout the world will be thrown into confusion. First setting up a practice for people to admire, thereby driving them into difficulty, and then worrying about them and trying to rescue them is no different from first putting people in hardship and then coming to their aid. Yet people today call this benevolence.

Commentary: “Hao mu” means to throw people’s minds into confusion. “Benevolence” here refers to the practice of caring for others impartially. “The present age” means a time when the Way of the world has declined. People such as Zeng Shen and Shi Qiu practiced this kind of impartial care, leading some to abandon their own nature and imitate them.

Once the path of seeking good fortune by chance and competing for fame and profit is opened, the senses of hearing and sight are disturbed by external things. When the senses are disturbed, troubles arise. People then worry about disorder and try to remedy it with benevolence and righteousness, unaware that the troubles began with the conduct of the sages—the teachings and standards they left behind.

Those who lack benevolence go against the truth of their nature and life, coveting wealth and status.

Note: People covet wealth and status because someone has elevated them as things worthy of esteem. If there were no conduct held up as an example, people would be content with their proper place and take on duties according to their abilities. Why would they go against their nature, imitate others, and seize what does not belong to them?

Commentary: “Gluttony” means greed for possessions. Those who disregard their proper place and have no benevolence or righteousness in their hearts are called “those who lack benevolence.” They devote themselves to coveting profit and stipends, secretly maneuvering to gain wealth and status. In doing so, they sever their inborn nature and lose the genuine feelings that come with their proper place. They disguise their nature and feign emotion, abandoning themselves to pursue external things. These failings all arise because the conduct of the sages is held in high esteem. From this we can see that preserving simplicity and returning to natural sincerity requires casting aside benevolence and righteousness.

But surely benevolence and righteousness accord with human feeling?

Commentary: This restates the point made above.

Since the Three Dynasties of Xia, Shang, and Zhou, why have people everywhere been so noisy and contentious?

Note: Benevolence and righteousness originally arose from human feeling, yet after the Three Dynasties people went against their nature and feelings to pursue outward models, fearing they would fall behind. Is this not a cause for excessive worry?

Commentary: “Since” means “from.” The Three Dynasties are Xia, Shang, and Zhou. “Noisy and contentious” describes a state of clamor and disorder. Benevolence and righteousness arose from people’s nature and feelings, yet after the Three Dynasties people abandoned what was genuine and followed outward models, clamoring and competing—truly foolish behavior. The Xia promoted benevolence, the Shang promoted righteousness, and the Zhou promoted ritual. This is precisely what people’s clamor and competition looked like.

Moreover, to rely on the carpenter’s square, the ink line, and the compass to make things conform to straightness, crookedness, squares, and circles is to diminish their inborn nature.

Commentary: The hook determines a curve, the line determines straightness, the compass draws circles, and the square draws right angles. A thing must rely on these tools to meet the standards of curved, straight, round, or square; those standards do not come from the thing’s own nature. This serves as a metaphor: if people must first receive instruction and follow rules before they can practice benevolence and righteousness, then these do not come from their genuine nature and feelings. Acting in accordance with one’s nature requires no deliberate learning. To disguise one’s nature and feign emotion, abandoning oneself to imitate external things in practicing benevolence and righteousness, is to injure and destroy one’s inborn nature.

And to rely on ropes to bind things together and glue and lacquer to make them hold fast is to damage their inherent nature.

Commentary: “Binding” means tying together; “firm” means held fast; “injure” means damage; and “De” here refers to genuine nature and wisdom. If something can be made firm only by binding it with ropes or joining it with glue and lacquer, that shows it has reached this state by relying on external things, not through its own inherent nature…

Here Zhuangzi uses the "cage" metaphor to criticize those who imitate Confucian disciples like Zeng Shen or virtuous ministers like Shi Yu in promoting artificial benevolence and righteousness—such conduct is hypocritical affectation, not arising from genuine nature. Forcing humaneness and righteousness against one's innate character actually damages the authentic De (Virtue/Power).

The elaborate rituals, music systems, and contrived morality used to pacify people's hearts actually deviate from the natural state of things. Specifically: forcing straight things to bend is called "ritual," cutting long things short is called "music," showing favoritism while giving is called "humaneness," and clinging to superficial forms is called "righteousness." These artificial constructs replace authenticity, making people lose their fundamental nature—like chasing branches after cutting roots, one naturally loses the enduring constancy of true being. This passage summarizes the faults mentioned earlier and introduces the subsequent discussion on "attaining the Dao."

All things under heaven have their natural norms: the curved need no compass, the straight require no plumb line, the round need no compasses, the square need no set square, joining requires no glue, and binding needs no rope. Just as reeds grow curved naturally and hemp stalks stand straight naturally, as human heads are round and feet square, as water freezes in winter and melts in summer, as fish gather in spring and scatter in autumn—all these form spontaneously without external coercion. Artificial constructs like rituals, music, and morality disrupt these natural patterns. "Attaching" here implies forced adherence, like officials clinging to Dong Xian during Emperor Ai of Han's reign—all are artificial affiliations.

Thus all things grow without knowing why they grow, and equally attain existence without knowing how. Everything has its natural state. By following this spontaneity without interference, people find joy unconsciously. All beings receive Qi (vital energy) from heaven and earth to take form—some square, some round, some curved, some straight—each abiding in its nature without striving, free from anxiety over gain or loss. This reveals how all contrived actions violate natural norms.

The Dao remains unchanged through past and present—nothing can diminish it. Because the Dao is one with all things, it remains eternally whole. Ordinary people think things constantly change, deluded by appearances; the wise understand past and present share one essence—this is true insight.

Throughout the ages, what has truly remained unchanged is the Dao revealed by the wisdom of the sages. Things come into being without knowing why they were born; they attain what they attain without knowing how they were able to do so. Although the ages continually change, the laws of the Dao neither increase nor diminish. Amid the ceaseless changes of all things, what lies at the root remains as it has always been.

If this is so, why must benevolence and righteousness be bound together as tightly as rope wound with glue, trapping people within morality?

Note: When one follows the natural course of the Dao and thereby attains something, one can preserve simplicity and proceed alone. But if one keeps relying on external things, one cannot truly practice Wuwei (non-action) amid morality.

Commentary: “Why” means “for what reason”; “bound together without end” means to continue in succession. De (Virtue/Power) is neither existent nor nonexistent; it neither arises nor perishes. It cannot be sought through the sages’ cleverness, nor grasped through concrete forms or names. People like Zeng Shen and Shi Yu were naturally inclined toward benevolence and righteousness. By using their own standards to guide others, they became attached to distinctions of status and rigid doctrines. These doctrines bind people like ropes and, like glue, keep their thoughts joined and entangled without end. To enter the realm of De while clinging to such ideas is like trying to draw a square with a compass, or like a fish envying a bird: one merely longs in vain for a reputation and never gains any practical benefit. If one cannot forget the fish basket or the rabbit snare after they have served their purpose, one will lose the fish and the rabbit. A straw dog used for a sacrifice is not worth treasuring once the rite is over. Why, then, prize such things?

This only confuses the people of the world.

Note: When ideas of benevolence and righteousness continue without end, they only lead people astray and make them lose their true nature.

Commentary: The teaching of benevolence and righteousness is an artificial display of cleverness. It goes against the natural course of the Dao and disturbs the minds of the people.

Minor confusion can make people lose their way; great confusion can alter their nature.

Note: Mistaking east for west is an error of direction, but it does not harm the body itself. Yet boasting of benevolence and admiring righteousness can make people lose their original natural state and even lead them to their death. That is great confusion.

Commentary: Calling south north is only a minor mistake. Becoming attached to outward conduct and losing one’s true nature is a far greater confusion.

How do we know this is so?

Commentary: “So” means “in this way.” The question is posed here to introduce what follows.

Ever since the Yu clan promoted benevolence and righteousness and thereby disrupted the world, there has been no one among the people who has not rushed about in the service of benevolence and righteousness.

Note: When all things do not harm one another, this is not done to win a reputation for benevolence, yet the traces of benevolence appear naturally. When every matter is made fitting, this is not done to proclaim righteousness, yet righteousness takes effect naturally. Thus, fitting conduct and mutual harmlessness are not results brought about by proclaiming benevolence and righteousness. Yet the people of the world rush after benevolence and righteousness, abandoning themselves to pursue external things and thereby losing their original natural state. What disturbs people’s minds does not always come from what is ugly; often it may come from beauty that people desire. What disrupts the world does not necessarily arise from wrongdoing; it often begins with fine-sounding names such as benevolence and righteousness.

Benevolence and righteousness are precisely the tools that throw the world into disorder.

Commentary: “Yu” refers to Yu Shun. “Attract” means to draw people in, while “disturb” means to throw them into disorder. Before Tang Yao, people still preserved their plain and unspoiled nature. After Yu Shun, the honest and generous ways of the age gradually faded. The deeds of benevolence, righteousness, and the sages were then used to win over and comfort the people. Yet they led everyone in the world astray, keeping them in ceaseless activity, causing them to lose their nature and chase after the sages’ example.

Does this not mean using benevolence and righteousness to alter people’s nature?

Note: Yu Shun himself did not intend to change the nature of the world, yet the nature of its people was indeed changed as a result.

Commentary: From this, we can see that benevolence, righteousness, and the deeds of the sages do throw the world into disorder, leading people to abandon what is fundamental, pursue what is secondary, and alter their nature. Let us therefore venture this claim: ever since the three dynasties of Xia, Shang, and Zhou, there has been no one in the world whose nature has not been changed by external things.

Note: Before the three dynasties, there truly was a model of governing through Wuwei (non-action). But even the example of non-action can become something that people who act deliberately admire. Once they set out to praise it, people lose their natural, unspoiled nature. Thus even a sage may sometimes have to replace a state of ease and non-action with arduous toil—how much more so an ordinary person?

Commentary: Before the Five Emperors, people still carried on the ways of Wuwei. After the three dynasties, the practice of deliberate instruction gradually took hold. As the ages changed, so did the degree of honesty and superficiality, and the methods of governing changed with them. As a result, people abandoned themselves to imitate others; their true nature was altered and taken from them. They chase external things without knowing to return to their roots. Is this not tragic?

Note: “Replace the nature of quiet, hands-folded rule with the work of hardship and injury”: hardship and injury mean wounds and toil. The idea is that Xia Yu braved wind and rain until his hands and feet were calloused, replacing the work of governing through Wuwei with these arduous practices. When those in high positions act this way, the people below follow suit.

Petty people abandon themselves for profit; scholars abandon themselves for reputation; high ministers abandon themselves for their families; and sages abandon themselves for the world.

Note: Those who roost like quail and feed like fledglings, acting naturally and without fixed rules—what is there for them to abandon themselves for and sacrifice themselves to? A sage therefore accords with worldly affairs without becoming attached, responding as things change. Outwardly, his conduct may seem to follow convention. The circumstances he encounters may sometimes be arduous and difficult, even injuring his body. But though he travels far and wide, his spirit does not change; though his hands and feet are injured, the nature settled within his body is not disturbed. Why, then, say that he has sacrificed himself? In truth, he has not lost himself. He is simply unattached to the things people commonly pursue, though outwardly his conduct resembles theirs.

“Devoting oneself” here means following, pursuing, seeking, or striving after something. In this passage, it refers to people exhausting themselves for the sake of some goal.

Common people covet profit, the upright value their reputation, high officials worry about their families, and rulers attend to governing the realm. What they pursue differs, but all alter their nature and wear themselves out. Sages, however, often accommodate the world and keep their actions unobtrusive, so they too may pursue things just as other people do. Yet even when this leaves scars or wears the hair from their legs, they never let their spirit become burdened.

Thus, although these people have different occupations and titles, they are alike in harming their lives by using themselves to pursue external things.

“These people” refers to the four kinds mentioned earlier. “Different occupations” means that they pursue different things, such as profit, reputation, or the realm; “different titles” means that they are called common people, high officials, sages, and so on. The point is that although their actions and titles differ, they are no different in wearing out their lives and using themselves to chase external things.

Zang and Gu both went out to herd sheep, but each of them lost his sheep.

This story follows as an illustration, leading into the passage below. Mencius says that Zang was a diligent student, while Gu was a young child. Yang Xiong, by contrast, says that “Zang” and “Gu” may also refer to a son-in-law and a servant girl, or to a young man of a respectable family. “Herd” means to tend livestock, and “lose” means to misplace. The point is that although the two had different identities and did different things, both lost their sheep.

When asked what Zang was doing, he said he was holding a bundle of books and reading. When asked what Gu was doing, he said he was playing the game of bo and sai to pass the time. The two did different things, but the result was the same: they lost their sheep.

“Xi” means “what.” In ancient times, people wrote books on bamboo slips because paper did not yet exist. “Bo and sai” were ancient games: throwing five wooden sticks and then casting dice or similar objects was called “bo”; a version played without casting those objects was called “sai.” Asking about Zang and Gu shows that one was reading while the other was playing. Their actions differed, but while herding they both lost their sheep, so the outcome was no different.

Bo Yi died at the foot of Mount Shouyang for the sake of his reputation; the bandit Zhi died on Mount Dongling for the sake of profit.

The passage now pairs these two figures with the earlier illustration. Bo Yi and Shu Qi were both sons of the ruler of Guzhu. Guzhu was descended from Shennong, and the family name was Jiang. Bo Yi’s personal name was Yun and his courtesy name was Gongxin; Shu Qi’s personal name was Zhi and his courtesy name was Gongyuan. Bo Yi was the elder, but not the legitimate heir; Shu Qi was younger, but was the legitimate heir. Their father had always favored Shu Qi and often praised him in front of Bo Yi. After their father died, the brothers yielded to one another and refused to inherit the rulership. Later, hearing that King Wen of Zhou was virtuous, they set out for Zhou. On the way, they encountered King Wu marching to punish the tyrant Zhou of Shang, and blocked the king’s chariot to remonstrate with him. King Wu did not heed them, so they left and went to Mount Shouyang to gather fern shoots…

Bo Yi survived on bracken shoots, ate no grain, and eventually starved to death on Mount Shouyang. Mount Shouyang lies thirty li south of Puzhou city. The local temple and tomb of Yi and Qi stand there, with dense woods beside the tomb.

Zhi the Bandit was the younger cousin of Liu Xiahui. His name was Zhi, and he commanded nine thousand followers. Because they often robbed people, the world called him “Zhi the Bandit.” Dongling is a mountain, which some say is Mount Tai. It lies within the territory of Qizhou, fifteen li from Dongping. Zhi the Bandit died there.

Bo Yi and Zhi the Bandit died in different places, but in one respect they were alike: both damaged their lives and harmed their nature.

Commentary: Bo Yi died beneath Mount Shouyang for the sake of fame, while Zhi the Bandit died on Mount Dongling for the sake of wealth and profit. Their pursuits of fame and profit differed, but the harm they did to their lives was the same.

Why must we insist that Bo Yi was right and Zhi the Bandit was wrong?

Note: What people throughout the world cherish is life. Both men now gave up their lives excessively for what they pursued. Since they both damaged their lives, there is no point in debating whether the things they pursued were right or wrong.

Commentary: By worldly standards, there is good and evil. But from the perspective of the Dao, what absolute right and wrong could there be? So we need not necessarily condemn Zhi the Bandit as wrong, nor regard Bo Yi as the only one in the right.

Everyone in the world is rushing after something. Those who pursue benevolence and righteousness are called gentlemen by worldly standards; those who pursue wealth and possessions are called petty men.

Commentary: This sums up what came before and introduces what follows. The Dao has been in decline for a long time; people today are not the only ones who pursue things single-mindedly. Those who pursue benevolence and righteousness may still be unable to escape the pursuit of fame, while those who pursue wealth and possessions are plainly seeking profit. Both fame and material gain are sources of harm to life. They do not accord with one’s nature, but are pursuits close to worldly desires. We therefore cannot judge people solely by the worldly distinction between gentlemen and petty men.

Their ways of pursuing things are the same; some are simply called gentlemen and others petty men. If both groups damage life and harm their nature, then Zhi the Bandit and Bo Yi are no different. How, then, can we distinguish gentlemen from petty men solely by worldly labels?

Note: Everyone in the world believes that not damaging one’s life is good. Since both men damaged their lives in the same way, there is no need to dwell on the difference in what they pursued. Why is life damaged, and why does one’s nature change? It is all because people esteem contrived actions and labels. If we understand that these contrived labels, too, arise from Wuwei (non-action), we should stop esteeming them excessively and return to a state in accord with the Dao, where self and things are both forgotten. Seen this way, Yao and Jie may each be said to have found fulfillment in their own way. What is there to dispute between gentlemen and petty men?

Commentary: Why is there a distinction between gentlemen and petty men? It is precisely because people pursue fame or material gain that they are sorted according to worldly standards.

This course of action harms life and injures one’s nature; it is no different, in fact, from the ways of Robber Zhi and Boyi. This is probably the distinction made by worldly people, not the true and highest Dao. On what grounds do we praise the noble person, and how do we distinguish the petty person? In truth, there is no real distinction.

To bind one’s nature to benevolence and righteousness—even if one becomes as accomplished as Zeng Shen or Shi Qiu—is not what I call good.

Note: To bind one’s nature to benevolence and righteousness is to sacrifice oneself for their sake, and so it is not good.

Commentary: “Bind” means to attach oneself to something; “good” means virtuous; “I” is Zhuangzi’s way of referring to himself. Abandoning oneself to imitate others, or gaining things from outside while losing oneself, is the false way of the worldly. Thus, if one binds one’s inborn nature to benevolence and righteousness and learns these virtues from others, then even if one becomes as accomplished as Mo Di or Yang Zhu, one has gone against one’s nature. This is not what I call being good at preserving life.

To bind one’s nature to the five flavors—even if one understands taste as well as Yu’er—is not what I call good.

Note: To understand taste by following one’s nature is what counts as good.

Commentary: Mencius says that Yu’er was a man from Qi who could distinguish flavors. The Master Shi says Yu’er could blend ginger and cinnamon and prepare food for the ruler. If one does not follow one’s inborn nature but instead imitates things outside oneself, then even if one understands taste as well as Yu’er, one is not truly good.

To bind one’s nature to the five tones—even if one understands music as well as Shi Kuang—is not what I call keen hearing. To bind one’s nature to the five colors—even if one distinguishes colors as well as Li Zhu—is not what I call clear sight.

Note: If one does not draw on one’s own abilities but instead binds them to someone else, then even if one is as accomplished as Shi Kuang or Li Zhu, one has already lost one’s nature. Each person should therefore use the abilities inherent in their own ears and eyes without relying on Li Zhu or Shi Kuang. Only then are hearing and sight truly keen and clear.

Commentary: Li Zhu and Shi Kuang were naturally gifted with keen sight and hearing; these abilities arose from following their nature, not from study. If one now goes against one’s nature and contrives one’s feelings, abandoning oneself to imitate others, then no matter how accomplished one becomes, one cannot be called good.

By “good,” I do not mean benevolence and righteousness. I mean being good at preserving one’s own De (Virtue).

Note: Being good at finding fulfillment in oneself means forgetting the names “benevolence” and “righteousness” while naturally embodying them.

Commentary: De means finding fulfillment in oneself. One who has penetrated the mysterious Dao does not alter their nature to pursue things outside themselves. Why, then, would they cling to antiquated ways and govern by the institutions of former kings? Is it not fitting to understand oneself, attain one’s own fulfillment, and regard this as good?

By “good,” I do not mean benevolence and righteousness as they are commonly understood. I mean only following the realities of one’s nature and life.

Note: If one regards benevolence and righteousness as goodness, one will harm oneself in pursuit of them; as for one’s nature and life…

Return to a state of “being without benevolence.” If someone cannot be without benevolence themselves, how can they do anything to others? Only by following their own nature and life can they influence others. To influence others without becoming entangled, and to let both oneself and others rest in their own natures: this may be called goodness.

Commentary: Zeng Shen, Shi Yu, Yang Zhu, and Mo Di practiced benevolence and righteousness, probably by following their natures and letting their inborn dispositions take their course. These qualities came from the Mandate of Heaven, like limbs one is born with; they were not acquired through study. Some people saw Zeng Shen and Shi Yu practice benevolence and righteousness and assumed they could achieve the same by imitating them. Others heard that Li Zhu and Shi Kuang were perceptive and assumed they too could reach their level. How could such people know that human capacities are formed and nurtured by the transforming power of creation? Wang Bi’s commentary on the Yi Jing says, “If you do not follow your own nature, how can you keep it up for long?” This is the principle at work.

By “hearing,” I do not mean hearing what others say, but being able to hear oneself. By “seeing clearly,” I do not mean seeing others, but being able to see oneself.

Note: If, like Li Zhu and Shi Kuang, you let go of the pursuit of external sounds and sights and simply follow your own nature, then your abilities of perception and understanding in every respect can be preserved naturally.

Commentary: Those who envy Li Zhu and Shi Kuang, striving to see what others see and hear what others hear, let their spirits race outward and wear out their ears and eyes. This is folly and confusion; how could it be called perceptiveness? If you simply use your ears to hear what they can hear and your eyes to see what they can see, keep to your proper bounds, and follow your true nature without being drawn along by external things, then you will hear and see things clearly.

Those who cannot see what they themselves are capable of seeing, yet devote themselves to seeing what others see; who cannot attain what they themselves are capable of attaining, yet devote themselves to seeking what others have attained—such people gain what belongs to others but fail to gain what belongs to themselves. They follow what gives others comfort but do not find ease for themselves.

Note: This is the way of abandoning oneself and modeling oneself on others. Even if you imitate them successfully, you have already lost yourself.

Commentary: To fail to see clearly what one’s own eyes can see, while doggedly pursuing Li Zhu’s eyesight; to be unable to understand things with one’s own mind, while driving the mind to admire Shi Yu’s righteousness—these are all contrived efforts to learn from others. What they gain is only what others have gained, not what they themselves can attain by following their nature. Such contrived outward striving may imitate others and win their favor on the surface, but inwardly it leaves one exhausted. So one cannot rest in one’s own ease.

Following what gives others comfort without finding ease for oneself makes one as deviant as Robber Zhi or Boyi.

Note: If losing one’s nature is called deviance, then even though the paths by which people lose it differ, the loss itself is the same.

Commentary: “Excess” means to become stuck and unable to move freely; “deviance” means to depart from the proper course. Keeping to one’s proper bounds and following one’s nature is the right way.

Behaviors such as competitiveness and sexual misconduct arise when people abandon themselves to pursue external things, thereby opening the way to grasping at things through a stroke of luck. Whether one performs good deeds like Boyi or evil deeds like Robber Zhi, if these actions stem from such pursuit and grasping, they likewise depart from the right Way and fall into deviance.

The phrase “each pursues what suits them” is repeated here to sum up what came before and introduce what follows, carrying the thread of the argument forward.

I am ashamed that I have not attained the moral Way. I therefore dare neither to take the practice of benevolence and righteousness as my own standard, nor to commit depraved and deviant acts.

The commentary says: Ashamed that he has not attained the moral Way, he does not go probing into the obscure depths, where principles leave no trace. He therefore neither clings to fixed conduct nor pursues fame and profit. He simply remains at ease and unhurried, moved by things as dust is stirred by the wind, yet without deliberate intent. He forgets himself and forgets external things; that is all.

The explanatory commentary says: The Way of empty openness and the De of supreme forgetting transcend benevolence and righteousness; they pursue neither profit nor fame. Zhuangzi deeply grasped the Way of the “pivot of the circle”—being at the turning point of change without being constrained by it—and let his spirit roam beyond the myriad things. His aspirations surpassed benevolence and righteousness, while in heart and action he forgot distinctions between right and wrong and realized the state of natural Wuwei (non-action). The text says, “ashamed that I have not attained the moral Way,” and then distinguishes between “not daring, above, to take up the practice of benevolence and righteousness, and not daring, below, to commit depraved acts.” This shows the difference in worth between benevolence and righteousness on the one hand, and depravity on the other. Saying “I am ashamed” and “I dare not” is a humble way of speaking.

Guo Xiang’s commentary explains: “At ease” means relaxed and unrestrained. “Stirred by the wind” means that, like dust blown by the wind, one is moved without deliberate intent. “Wind” refers to the breeze, and “dust” to the fine particles it stirs. It is like a gentle breeze passing by and lightly lifting a trace of dust.