《南華真經註疏》Vol. 19

The True Classic of Southern Florescence, with Commentary and Subcommentary, Scroll 19: Outer Chapter, “Autumn Floods,” Chapter 17

The autumn rains arrived in their season, and the waters of countless rivers flowed into the Yellow River. Its waters surged so widely that, looking across from one bank to the other, one could not even tell an ox from a horse in the distance.

Commentary: This describes the broad expanse of the Yellow River.

Subcommentary: “The River” refers to the Yellow River; Mengjin is a ferry crossing on it. Jing means that the water flows freely; si means the bank, and ya the boundary. A zhu is a small island in the water, while a place in the water where people can live is called a zhou. The great waters begin to rise in spring and reach their fullest in autumn. Autumn belongs to Yin, whose strength often brings prolonged rain, so the river rises in that season. Waters from rivers and valleys everywhere flow into the Yellow River, filling its channel and sending its waters surging onward. The banks lie far apart, and the sandbars are distant; looking across the water, one can no longer distinguish even an ox from a horse.

At this, the River Earl, the god of the Yellow River, became delighted, believing that all the finest things in the world were gathered within himself.

Subcommentary: The River Earl is the river god. His surname was Feng and his given name Yi. He came from Tongdi village in Huayin, attained the Dao, and became an immortal of the waters. As the Yellow River grew broad and vast, the River Earl was pleased with himself, believing that all the world’s glory and splendor belonged to him.

The River Earl followed the current eastward and came to the North Sea. Facing east, he looked out but could not see where the water ended. Only then did he turn around and look up toward Hai Ruo, the sea god, as he gazed into the boundless ocean. He sighed, “There is a saying in the countryside: ‘Once you have heard a great many teachings, you think no one can match you.’ That is exactly what I was like!”

Subcommentary: According to the commentary and subcommentary, the North Sea is what is now Laizhou. “Gazing into the ocean” means that the view is indistinct: the water and the light of the sky merge, leaving only a vast haze in the distance. The River Earl followed the water eastward to the sea, looked back, and could see no boundary to the waters. Only then did he turn and look up toward Hai Ruo, sighing in reflection. By citing a country saying, he means that even a great many teachings amount to no more than a tiny fraction, and are no cause for pride. The one who thought no one could match him was the River Earl himself. This is merely the understanding of country folk, not yet a truly discerning argument.

“I have also heard that some people consider Confucius’s knowledge and experience meager, and look down on Boyi’s sense of righteousness. At first I did not believe it. Now that I have seen with my own eyes how vast and unfathomable you are, I would have been in danger if I had not come to your threshold. I would have been mocked forever by those who understand the Great Dao—the great masters of understanding.”

Commentary: The River Earl recognized the narrowness of his own understanding and stopped regarding himself as superior. As for admiration and the desire to compare himself with others, those feelings could no longer arise.

The Earl of the River, the god of the Yellow River, said, “People in the world all think that Confucius revised the Six Classics because he had wide experience and extensive knowledge. They also think that Boyi, a worthy man at the end of the Shang dynasty, gave up his claim to the state and kept himself pure and upright, and that his righteous conduct deserves praise. Yet there are learned and perceptive people who speak at length, saying that Boyi’s righteous conduct is nothing remarkable and that Confucius did not know all that much. I had heard these arguments before, but did not believe them. Now that I have seen with my own eyes the vast, boundless expanse of the sea, I understand that what I heard before was true.

“If I had not come to the realm of the Sea Lord, I would have considered my own knowledge complete. But once I saw a world more vast, I realized that what I had seen was narrow and shallow, and that I would surely be mocked for a long time by those who understand the Dao.”

The Sea Lord of the North said, “You cannot speak of the sea to a frog in a well, because it is confined within the well’s walls. You cannot speak of ice to an insect born in summer, because its understanding is limited by the season. You cannot speak of the Dao to someone with a narrow outlook, because that person is bound by doctrine.”

Note: Each thing dwells in the environment it inhabits, and each has limits to what it can reach.

Commentary: The Sea Lord knew that the Earl of the River had a narrow outlook, so he offered three examples. If a frog at the bottom of a well heard that, even when there was no wind, the sea could raise waves a hundred feet high, it would surely refuse to believe it, because it was confined to the well and could see only the small world within it. An insect born in summer dies when autumn comes. If it heard that water freezes in the depths of winter and rain turns to sleet—small pellets of ice—it would surely refuse to believe it, because its thoughts are confined to summer. A person with a narrow outlook who clings to their own views would likewise refuse to believe in the open and unobstructed Dao; in setting aside sage wisdom; in valuing what is as fine as a hair while dismissing Mount Tai; or in treating someone who died young as equal to Pengzu, the legendary long-lived figure. Such people are bound by doctrines and ritual conventions. Before the Earl of the River had gone beyond the banks of the great river and met the Sea Lord, he considered himself vast; the same principle applies.

“Now that you have crossed beyond the riverbanks and seen the sea, you know how limited your understanding is. You can therefore speak of the principles of the Dao.”

Note: Since he now understands his own limitations, one can speak with him about the principles.

Commentary: The Earl of the River rode the waters and followed the current beyond the riverbanks, entering the sea. Only after carefully observing its endless expanse did he feel that the place where he had lived was small and shallow. Now that he understands the limits of his own situation, he can speak of principles that are broad and far-reaching.

Of all the waters in the world, none is greater than the sea. The many rivers flow into it, and no one knows when they will stop. The sea’s waters also flow out through the Tail Drain, the legendary outlet for the sea, and no one knows when that will stop. Yet the sea neither overflows nor dries up because of it. Spring and autumn...

It is unaffected by floods or droughts, and no one knows how much the sea rises or falls. Its vastness far exceeds the flow of rivers and streams; it cannot be measured at all.

[Commentary] The “Tail Gate” is where the sea’s waters drain away, east of the Blue Sea. It is said that a stone lies there, forty thousand li wide and forty thousand li thick, at the place where all the rivers converge. Because it resembles both the sea’s tail and a gate, it is called the “Tail Gate.” The sea’s waters dry up as they pour into it, so it is also called the “Scorched Basin.” The Classic of Mountains and Seas says that after Yi shot down nine suns, they fell to earth and transformed into the Scorched Basin. This account is winding and strange, so I will not record it in detail here.

There is little rain in spring and much in autumn. In the time of Yao, there were floods; in the time of King Tang of Shang, there was drought. The sea takes in thousands upon thousands of rivers but does not overflow; the Scorched Basin drains the sea, but the sea does not dry up. The changing seasons of spring and autumn do not alter the amount of water in the sea. Even in floods or droughts, no increase or decrease in the sea’s waters can be discerned. As for the sea’s vastness, it far exceeds the flow of rivers and streams. The difference between them is immense—how could their sizes be measured?

Yet I have never taken pride in myself on that account. Compared with Heaven and Earth, I am merely one of the beings between them that receives Yin-Yang Qi. I am to Heaven and Earth as a small stone or a tree in a great mountain. Since I have already recognized how small I am, why should I boast?

[Note] The waters of all the rivers flow into the Yellow River, which in turn flows into the sea; the sea lies between Heaven and Earth. Each of these things has its own measure. The passage may sound as though it first observes great things and then uses them to explain small things, but on closer examination, that is not its meaning.

A common failing among people is that they cannot regard great and small on equal terms. Those with large forms think they have enough and that the small have nothing at all. Those with small forms stubbornly believe they are already sufficient and that the great are nothing special. Some boast upward, while others look down on those beneath them. In comparing themselves with one another, they lose their own true nature. This is where people go astray.

The best way to correct this confusion is first to see clearly the difference between great and small, then to explain the principle by following people’s own talk of greatness and smallness. What is called great has reached the utmost: not even the fine new hairs on an animal in autumn can make Heaven and Earth seem greater. What is called small has likewise reached the utmost: Heaven and Earth cannot be smaller than a single hair. In this way, those who are confused have reason to turn back and recognize the limits proper to each thing, allowing all things to rest content in their own place. Those who wander freely act in accord with their nature and roam in a state of ease and contentment. This is the intent behind Zhuangzi’s subtle words.

If, like those who are confused, we let the great and the small overpower one another, their comparison will never end. As for seeing what is great and then being unable to accept one’s own smallness, or seeing what is small and then thinking oneself sufficient, one will rush…

To rush about in a realm of victory and defeat, encouraging people in the world to pride themselves and boast—is this really in keeping with Zhuangzi’s purpose?

Commentary: What does “existence” mean? It means simply that something exists. Heaven and Earth cover and sustain the myriad things, and nothing is greater than them. Yin and Yang spread primordial Qi and bring the myriad things into being through transformation; nothing is greater than them, either. So, when Hai Ruo, the sea deity, is compared with Heaven and Earth in terms of physical form, there is no rank of higher or lower. But if we say that it came into being by receiving the Qi of Yin and Yang, then it is merely one thing transformed by Yin and Yang. Zhuangzi therefore makes a comparison with other things: isn’t Hai Ruo like a small piece of wood or a pebble set among the peaks of Mount Tai? And from the perspective of the great Dao of Heaven and Earth, how slight is the part Hai Ruo occupies! Each thing has its own measure. Why, then, think oneself great?

Consider the space occupied by the Four Seas between Heaven and Earth. Isn’t it like the space taken up by a small ant’s nest in a vast marsh? Consider the space occupied by China—here meaning the Nine Provinces of ancient usage—within the Four Seas. Isn’t it like a tiny grain of barnyard grass in a great granary?

Commentary: “Ant’s nest” refers to an ant hole. “Tí” is a grass resembling barnyard grass, whose seeds are extremely tiny. “China” refers to the Nine Provinces. The Four Seas lie between Heaven and Earth, and the Nine Provinces lie within the Four Seas. Isn’t this like an ant hole in a vast marsh, or a grain of tí grass in a great granary? The point is that the difference between things in size and worth can be immense.

The totality of things is called “the myriad things,” and human beings are just one among them. The Nine Provinces have a large population; grain grows there, and boats and carts travel through them. Yet among the places where people live, the Nine Provinces occupy only one. Compared with the myriad things, aren’t human beings like the tip of a single hair on a horse?

Note: Size has many degrees, and things at different degrees cannot be meaningfully compared as rivals.

Commentary: “Call” means to name; “many” means numerous. The number of things far exceeds ten thousand, but people in the world commonly use “the myriad things” as a collective name for them. Human beings are one kind among the myriad things. The Nine Provinces gather people, grow the five grains, and carry boats and carts; yet among the many things, they occupy just one place. But compared with all things—or with the whole cosmos—the human world and the Nine Provinces are like a single hair on a horse. Why should we take this to heart?

The Five Emperors successively yielded the throne to one another; the Three Kings took up arms to seize it. Benevolent men worried over their states, and capable ministers labored at their duties. All these affairs took place within no more than their own limited sphere.

Note: These affairs never went beyond the particular realm each belonged to.

Commentary: The Five Emperors passed the throne to one another through abdication; the Three Kings raised armies to contend for the realm; benevolent men worried deeply about their states; and capable ministers worked hard at governing. Though their actions differed, each was carried out within this small sphere alone.

Bo Yi, who became renowned for yielding, declined a noble title and thereby gained a reputation. Zhongni (Confucius) discussed the Six Classics and was consequently considered learned. Each was merely taking satisfaction in what he had achieved. Is this not like your earlier boast, by the water’s edge, about the breadth of your knowledge?

Commentary: Every thing has its own bounds. Even the wisest cannot go beyond them. This is why differences in size arise. The point here is that the highest principle has no fixed distinctions.

Subcommentary: Bo Yi yielded the five ranks of nobility and thereby won a reputation; Zhongni discussed the Six Classics and was consequently considered learned. How is using these achievements to belittle other things and exalt oneself any different from the River Earl boasting by the water’s edge earlier? This passage follows from the preceding parable and further explains what was said before: Zhongni had not heard much, and Bo Yi’s sense of right was not especially lofty.

The River Earl said, “Then may I say that Heaven and Earth are vast, while the tiniest hair is minute?”

Subcommentary: Nothing in physical form is greater than Heaven and Earth, and nothing in substance is smaller than the tiniest hair. The greatest and the smallest are cited to show that things receive their endowments differently. The River Earl states his understanding and asks the Sea Spirit for guidance. Another way to understand this is: if being self-satisfied counts as greatness, I can be greater than Heaven and Earth; if having nothing left over counts as smallness, I can be smaller than the tiniest hair. Now that the River Earl has understood that things and the self should be regarded as equal, he states his understanding and asks whether it is correct.

The Sea Spirit of the North Sea said, “No. The measure of things is without limit.”

Commentary: Every kind of thing has its own measure.

Subcommentary: The Sea Spirit of the North Sea answers the River Earl’s question: no. Things receive different capacities, and each is suited to its own endowment. Their kinds are infinitely varied. Within the measure suited to each, there is no absolute great or small. How, then, can the measure you know be imposed as the standard for all things?

Time has no end.

Commentary: Death and birth both follow the course of time.

Subcommentary: Things are continually renewed; nothing comes to a standstill.

Endowments have no fixed form.

Commentary: What is gained and lost both belong to one’s endowment.

Subcommentary: The allotted share one receives changes with time.

Ends and beginnings leave no fixed traces of the past.

Commentary: Things are renewed day after day.

Subcommentary: Though things end and then begin again, they are always being renewed.

Thus, great wisdom looks into what is far and near, and knows that even the minute is not lacking.

Commentary: Each thing is complete in itself.

Subcommentary: What follows explains why the measure of things is without limit. The wisdom of a great sage can discern principles far off and examine things close at hand. Thus, though the tiniest hair is small, it is complete in itself and lacks nothing.

Though Heaven and Earth are vast, they have nothing to spare.

Commentary: They likewise have nothing in excess.

Subcommentary: Though Heaven and Earth are immense, they have nothing beyond what is their own. They therefore cannot boast of their vastness.

If we do not have more than one thing, we will not exaggerate its importance; if we do not regard something as scarce, we will not constantly seek it.

Understand that the measures of things have no end. Observe the myriad things with penetrating wisdom, and you will see that they differ in distance and size, each with its own corresponding measure. Though their forms and names vary, each has its own distinctive character. Thus, the measures of the myriad things are without end.

Understand that the past and present have no fixed boundary. “Xiang” means the past, while “jin gu” refers to past and present. The past and present are continuous, ever-changing. Once you see that distinctions such as large and small, past and present, are not fixed, you will no longer cling to those boundaries.

Thus, those who live long do not grow weary or vexed by longevity, and those whose lives are short do not envy or seek a distant old age. “Yao” means long, and “duo” means short. See that change between past and present never ceases, and you will understand that long and short lives are not absolute or unchanging. Follow change and let things take their natural course; then you will not grieve over a long or short life, or envy another’s.

Understand that the changes of time have no end. This sums up what has been said about change between past and present: change continues without stopping, and life and death change along with it. Therefore, one does not grow vexed by a long life or seek a longer life because one’s own is short.

Observe the changes between fullness and depletion, and you can receive without rejoicing and lose without sorrow. The Dao of Heaven waxes and wanes, and human affairs naturally have their gains and losses. See clearly how fullness and depletion change, and understand the principle of gain and loss. Then you need not rejoice over an unexpected gain or grieve over an unexpected loss.

Understand that people’s fortunes and circumstances are not constant. Seeing that things wax and wane, you know that what is gained will not remain unchanged forever. In this way, you can let go of sorrow and joy over gain and loss.

Understand the level road. “Tan tu” means a level road. Life and death are the ordinary path by which the myriad things continually renew and change. If you do not cling to death as absolute death, or life as absolute life, you can see that life and death are not fundamentally separate and understand the level, impartial Way.

Therefore, birth need not bring excessive joy, and death need not be seen as a calamity. Those who understand the Way know that life and death are not two utterly opposed things.

Why worry about joy and sorrow? It is because the endings and beginnings of all things have never been fixed. The commentator explains: “End” and “beginning” are renewed every day, so one knows that things of the past cannot be clung to or held back. Thus, even when faced with changes that come with each passing day, one is not startled; in letting go of what is past, one is not afraid. The changes of death and life may be regarded as a single process.

The subcommentary says: This passage sums up the preceding discussion of endings and beginnings as ceaselessly changing, with no fixed former state.

What people know is far less than what they do not know. The commentator says: What each person is able to know is limited. The subcommentary says: Insisting on knowing everything can instead run counter to one’s true nature; those who do not insist on seeking knowledge may, by contrast, accord with the Great Dao. Judged by this principle, what is known is naturally less than what is unknown.

The time after a person is born is not as good as the time before birth. The commentator says: After birth, each person has a lifespan of a different length. The subcommentary says: Before birth there is no joy, and therefore no sorrow; after birth there is love, and therefore there is also hatred.

Using extremely limited intelligence to seek a vast, boundless realm leads to confusion and turmoil, leaving one unable to settle oneself. The commentator says: It is better to be content with the portion one has received. The subcommentary says: “The utmost small” refers to limited intelligence; “the utmost great” refers to a boundless realm. When limited intelligence seeks an infinite realm, the realm remains unexplored while one’s limited understanding is already exhausted. Thus, a person remains confused throughout life, unable to return to the root. By constantly abandoning oneself to pursue external things, one cannot be free and at ease.

From this, how can we know that a hair’s tip, something exceedingly minute, is enough to define the limits of “the utmost fine”? And how can we know that Heaven and Earth are enough to exhaust the extent of “the utmost great”? The commentator says: Seeking the great through the small will ultimately fail; when each is content with its own portion, both the small and the great can be self-sufficient. If the hair’s tip did not seek the functions of Heaven and Earth, then everything beyond the whole body would be useless as well. If one does not regard Heaven and Earth as greater than a hair’s breadth, but looks only at one’s own body, one will feel that one’s body is already sufficient. How, then, can one determine what counts as fine or great?

The subcommentary says: The portions received by all things differ. Though they vary in size, each is suited to itself. Seeking the great through the small leads to confusion and the loss of one’s nature; when each is content with its own portion, all can wander freely and at ease. Thus, although the tip of a hair is exceedingly small, in terms of its own nature it may be called “great”; although Heaven and Earth are vast, in themselves they may be called “small.” From this, we can see that the limits of the utmost fine need not lie at a hair’s tip, and the extent of the utmost great need not end at Heaven and Earth.

The Earl of the River said: People in the world who discuss such matters all say that what is most subtle has no form, and that what is greatest is too large to be enclosed. Is this true?

“Faith” means what is certain and true. Before ordinary discussion has distinguished right from wrong, people say that the most subtle things have no form, while what is vast beyond measure cannot be circled or encompassed. In fact, they do not yet understand the principle at issue, nor can they tell what is real from what is void. That is why the River Earl, the spirit of the Yellow River, raises this question.

The Lord of the Northern Sea, the spirit of the Northern Sea, says: “Look at something vast from a small vantage, and you cannot take it all in. Look at something small from a vast vantage, and you cannot see it clearly.”

The commentary explains: The range of what the eyes can see is always limited; they cannot take in everything. Thus, when looking at something vast, there will be parts one cannot see; when looking at something small, there will be parts one cannot make out. This is only a limitation of the eyes. It does not mean that these things do not exist. The subtle and the vast are both real. How, then, can one conclude that something without form, or beyond all encompassing, does not exist?

The commentary also explains: Use a small form to look at something vast, and inevitably you cannot take in its breadth and depth; so you call it “beyond encompassing.” Use something vast to look at a small form, and inevitably you cannot see it distinctly; so you say it “has no form or substance.” These claims still concern things within the realm of form. They do not mean “the Utterly Void.”

“Subtle” means extremely small, and “vast” means extremely expansive. Things differ in size, and what suits each of them differs as well.

The commentary explains: Since things differ in size, what suits each cannot be the same.

The subcommentary explains: “Subtle” refers to what is small, and “vast” to what is expansive. The point is that within the small there is something smaller still, and within the vast there is something vaster still. The Qi they receive may differ, but all remain within the realm of things that have form. The natural order unfolds differently in each, and each has what suits it.

This describes the circumstances that arise among things with form.

The commentary explains: If something were formless and beyond all encompassing, it would not have these circumstances in which what suits it differs according to its size.

The subcommentary explains: Since things differ in size, what suits them also differs. This shows that such circumstances still fall within the realm of “existence.”

“Subtle” and “coarse” are both terms applied to things with form.

The commentary explains: The distinction between subtle and coarse shows that the things being discussed are not formless.

The subcommentary explains: To speak of subtlety and coarseness is necessarily to remain within the bounds set by form and name. It has not gone beyond what language and images can express.

What is formless cannot be divided by number; what is beyond all encompassing cannot be exhausted by measurement.

The subcommentary explains: “Formless” and “beyond encompassing” here refer to the Dao. The utmost Dao is profound and mysterious, beyond the reach of human thought and the senses. It cannot therefore be distinguished by names or numbers, nor exhausted through measurement.

Whatever can be discussed in words belongs to the more apparent and coarse aspect of things. Whatever can be grasped by the mind belongs to their more subtle aspect. What words cannot discuss and the mind cannot discern or grasp can no longer be measured as either “subtle” or “coarse.”

There is only “nothing.” How could there be any distinction between the refined and the coarse? Words and thoughts themselves exist, but what words express and thoughts point toward is nothing. Therefore, one must seek beyond words and thoughts and enter a state without speech or thought in order to reach it.

Commentary: What can be explained through verbal debate concerns the shallow side of things; what can be grasped and understood through the mind concerns their subtle side. But the wondrous principle cannot be expressed even in wondrous words, nor can the sage’s mind perceive it. So one must seek beyond words and thoughts. Why cling to what is refined or coarse?

Therefore, the great person does nothing that harms others.

Note: The great person—one who has realized the Dao—has no private intentions and follows the course of Heaven. Every place he steps is auspicious; how could he ever take a path that harms others?

Commentary: The great person responds to things as the Dao of Heaven moves, without private motives. Wherever he goes is auspicious, and his words benefit things. Thus, in the end, he does not harm others.

He does not boast of his benevolence or kindness.

Note: He harms no one and does not boast of having bestowed a favor.

Commentary: His loving kindness and beneficence are like the sunlight of spring, yet he does not boast that he has bestowed them everywhere.

He does not act to secure personal gain.

Commentary: Acting in accordance with how things are, he naturally causes no harm. He also acts in response to the right moment, without seeking gain for himself.

He does not look down on the gatekeeper or servant.

Note: He assigns each person a suitable position according to their abilities; he does not give them this work because he looks down on them.

Commentary: He makes no distinction between honor and disgrace, success and hardship. So even when serving as a gatekeeper or servant, he does not regard the work as lowly.

He does not compete for wealth.

Note: He lets everyone receive their proper share.

Commentary: Having few desires, knowing contentment, and staying within his proper bounds, he neither covets nor competes with others for wealth.

He does not make a point of offering excessive words of deference.

Note: What is appropriate is enough.

Commentary: He treats others with the humility that comes naturally to him. He responds to each situation as it arises, advancing, withdrawing, choosing, and letting go as needed. He does not put on a show or deliberately say too much to disclaim any claim.

He does not rely on others to get things done.

Note: He lets each person take responsibility for their own duties.

Commentary: Whether people are clever or dull, he lets them act according to their nature; whether skilled or clumsy, he follows their actual abilities. He does not entrust others with matters beyond their duties or demand more of them than is appropriate.

He does not expend excessive effort to obtain food.

Note: What is sufficient is enough.

Commentary: He seeks only enough food within his proper share to satisfy his hunger. He does not crave more and exhaust himself in the pursuit.

He does not look down on the greedy and corrupt.

Note: Following what is right, one naturally has no desires.

Commentary: Once he has realized the mysterious Dao, he is naturally no longer driven by passions and desires. He does not deliberately despise corrupt people in order to make a show of his own purity.

His conduct differs from that of the world.

He lives among others while remaining independent, with nothing he regards as always acceptable and nothing as always unacceptable. In this, he differs from ordinary people.

He adapts to the myriad things and blends into the world, meeting each situation without clinging to what is acceptable or unacceptable. Even while living amid worldly conditions, he remains unstained by them, so his conduct differs from that of ordinary people. He does not deliberately set himself apart; he simply follows the nature of things, and his distinctiveness appears of itself.

He abides in the right path and understands the great Dao, so he does nothing crooked or deviant. At the same time, he adapts to living beings and never goes against the people around him. His actions are guided by following others, because the Perfected Person has no stubborn private concerns and never puts himself first.

He does not look down on flatterers, yet remains naturally upright. This is because he is steadfast and true by nature and does not take a crooked path; he does not first despise flatterers in order to make himself seem upright.

Worldly rank and salary cannot tempt him, and punishment, death, or disgrace cannot shame him. People regard high office and generous rewards as honors, and punishment, execution, or demotion as disgrace. But he understands that honor and disgrace, rise and decline, are not determined by him, and that favorable and adverse circumstances each have their proper time. External things cannot stir his heart: gaining them does not excite him, and losing them does not make him feel ashamed.

He knows that right and wrong have no fixed boundary, and that small and large have no definite limits. This is because he is mysteriously joined with the myriad things. People each cling to their own ideas of right and wrong, so no single standard can settle the matter. Things are compared with one another, and their relative sizes can change; how, then, could small and large have absolute limits? This is what is meant by the relation between Heaven and Earth and the tip of a hair.

An ancient saying goes, “The one who has attained the Dao is not praised by others.” The sage lets the myriad things follow their own course and reach their full potential. The achievements and reputation therefore belong to the things themselves, leaving the sage with no fame to pass down. The sage who understands the great Dao conceals his radiance and hides his abilities, giving credit to the myriad things. He has no personal achievements or reputation to be praised; when people speak of accomplishments, they often praise someone else.

An ancient saying goes, “The person of highest De has nothing to gain.” What is called “gain” exists only in relation to “loss.” If nothing in the myriad things has lost anything, there is no basis for speaking of gain. The person who has reached the highest state regards gain and loss alike: with nothing lost, there is nothing gained. The Laozi says, “Highest De does not regard itself as possessing De.”

An ancient saying goes, “The great person has no self.” The sage acts in accord with the myriad things. When moved by things, the sage responds; acting according to the particular form of each thing, he does not cling to a fixed self.

“Bringing restraint to its utmost” means gathering oneself in complete accord with one’s proper measure, and thereby merging with the great Dao. This is possible only upon reaching a state without form, a state that cannot be bounded.

Commentary: “To accord” means to follow; “bounds” means limits. A person of great character—one who possesses De (Virtue) and can embody the Dao (the Way)—can benefit all things in many ways.

In brief, the first thing is to follow each thing’s proper role and limits. The eyes see only what they are able to see, and the ears hear only what they are able to hear. To understand the bounds of one’s knowledge and remain within one’s proper role is the highest expression of De.

The River Earl said, “Where, within or without all things, are distinctions of noble and base drawn? And where are the boundaries between great and small?”

Commentary: The “within and without” of all things refers to what lies inside and outside their nature and proper role. The word “where” means “how” or “by what means.” Do distinctions of nobility and baseness, and boundaries between great and small, lie within the nature of things, or beyond the proper bounds of life? Where do these distinctions come from? The River Earl has not yet understood their source, so he asks this question.

The Ruo of the Northern Sea, the deity of the North Sea, said, “From the perspective of the Dao, no thing is noble or base.”

Commentary: Each thing is complete in itself.

Commentary: The Dao is an empty, open, and subtle principle; things are concrete entities with form and substance, confined by their particular limits. Looking at the subtle Dao from the standpoint of concrete things leads one to distinguish great from small. Looking at concrete things from the standpoint of the subtle Dao makes distinctions of nobility and baseness disappear.

From each thing’s own standpoint, it regards itself as noble and looks down on other things.

Commentary: These many distinctions are precisely where the Dao interweaves and unifies things, bringing them into equality.

Commentary: The nature and order of things are often turned upside down. People become confused about right and wrong, each wishing to exalt themselves and demean others. Others, too, regard themselves as noble and look down on those around them. Because all sides share this confusion, the text says that they do so “to one another.”

From the standpoint of worldly convention, nobility and baseness are not determined by oneself.

Commentary: This is what is meant by things being turned upside down.

Commentary: Honor and disgrace often arrive by chance. Yet worldly people rejoice or become troubled by them: they treat what comes by chance as noble, and feel favored when they gain it; they treat what departs by chance as base, and feel disgraced when they lose it. Since favor and disgrace depend on external things, how could nobility and baseness be determined by oneself?

From the standpoint of difference, if something is measured by the aspect in which it appears great, it is great; if measured by the aspect in which it appears small, it is small. To understand that Heaven and Earth can be as small as a grain of rice, and that a hair’s tip can be as great as a mountain, is to understand that things are viewed according to different measures.

Commentary: “Great” means fully complete; “small” means having nothing left over. If we call things great according to the way each is complete in its own nature, then a hair’s tip and a mountain can both be called “great.” If we call them small according to the way each has nothing left over, then Heaven and Earth and a grain of rice can both be called “small.” If we fail to observe differences and use this method, we will keep piling distinctions upon distinctions, until minute things crowd against one another and distinctions become endless.

The “Commentary” says: Here, the distinction between large and small is being examined. If we take what each thing possesses in itself as the measure of size, then a hair is as large as a great mountain. If we take the absence of anything superfluous as the measure, then Heaven and Earth are as small as a single seed of ti, a kind of small grass. Thus, if we take a hair as large, nothing among the myriad things is not large; if we take Heaven and Earth as small, nothing among the myriad things is not small. Though the myriad things differ in countless ways and vary in number, viewed from this perspective, the principle within them becomes clear.

In terms of function, if we affirm the myriad things on the basis of what each possesses, then none of them is nonexistent. If we deny them on the basis of what each lacks, then none of them exists. East and west are opposites, yet neither can be dispensed with. In this way, each thing’s function and proper sphere are established.

The “Commentary” says: Everything under Heaven distinguishes “the other” from “itself,” and each seeks its own advantage, so they pull in opposite directions. Yet they also depend on one another, like lips and teeth: without lips, the teeth grow cold. Thus, in each pursuing its own ends, each also brings about the flourishing of the other. This is how opposites can be unable to do without one another.

If we see only that each thing goes about its own business, but fail to acknowledge the way they bring about one another’s flourishing, then the functions of everything under Heaven would cease to exist. If we recognize that the myriad things cannot do without one another, and thus each has its own function, then the functions of everything under Heaven exist. If we forget the functions inherent in each thing and instead deliberately seek to benefit one another, then the more earnestly we bestow benefits, the more severe the falseness becomes. Each thing under Heaven would lose its proper place, and its true nature would become unsettled. In that case, the boundaries of each thing’s function could never be established.

The “Commentary” further says: East and west occupy different directions and have opposite meanings, yet without east there would be no way to establish west. The two therefore cannot do without one another. Consider the human body: the eyes see, the ears hear, the hands grasp, and the feet walk. The five internal organs, the six hollow organs, the limbs, and the whole body each have their own functions and definite roles. Are the eyes meant to see on behalf of the ears, or the feet to walk on behalf of the hands? To say that each thing’s function consists in doing another’s work for it would only weaken its own role. This is to deny things on the basis of what they lack, and so everything can be said to be nonexistent.

Yet when the feet cannot walk, the limbs grow weak; when the eyes cannot see, all parts of the body are impeded. When the organs each perform their own duties, they do not deliberately set out to help anyone, yet they naturally bring about the function of supporting one another. This is to affirm things on the basis of what each possesses, and so everything has its own existence. Viewed from this perspective, functions do indeed exist, and each thing has its own definite role. If we then forget again… (The original text ends here.)

If each thing acts from the standpoint of fulfilling itself, yet also seeks to bestow benefits on others, then all will lose their own nature, and right and wrong will become confused. Could this really have been Zhuangzi’s intention?

From the perspective of each thing’s own inclinations, follow what it considers right, and there is nothing among the myriad things that does not consider itself right. Follow what it considers wrong and opposes, and there is nothing among the myriad things that is not considered wrong. Understand that Yao and Jie—two legendary rulers often regarded as exemplars of virtue and tyranny—each followed his own nature and rejected the other, and one can see the inclinations, aspirations, and convictions of people throughout the world.

Note: The myriad things all exist in accordance with their own nature, so nothing is not as it is. They also reject one another, so nothing escapes rejection. If everything is rejected, there is no such thing as “right”; if everything is considered right, there is no such thing as “wrong.” Yao stands for the absence of any distinction between right and wrong, while Jie stands for making such a distinction. Yet each ruler received his own nature from Heaven and could not act on the other’s behalf. Thus, by observing the inclinations and convictions of people throughout the world through Yao and Jie, we can see that people cannot take one another’s place.

Commentary: Here, ran means “so” or “right.” The myriad things each take themselves to be right, so none considers itself wrong; they also reject one another, so nothing escapes rejection. If nothing escapes rejection, then there is no “right” in the world; if none considers itself wrong, then there is no “wrong” in the world. Thus, in keeping with the dispositions and inclinations of the myriad things, follow the principles each takes to be its own, and all will consider themselves right; follow the way they reject one another, and all will consider the others wrong.

Yao and Jie were the two rulers most opposed to one another in the world. They are cited to illustrate two different views of right and wrong: Yao considered Wuwei (non-action) right, and purposeful action and desire wrong; Jie considered Wuwei wrong, and purposeful action and desire right. Thus, understanding that Yao and Jie each followed his own nature and rejected the other allows us to see the inclinations, aspirations, and convictions of the myriad things in the world.

In the past, Yao and Shun became emperors by abdicating in favor of one another; King Kuai of Yan abdicated, but this led to the downfall of his state.

Commentary: The circumstances of emperors differed from one age to another, and so did the outcomes of abdication. Later, when Yao knew that Heaven’s mandate had settled on someone else, he abdicated the throne to Shun. Shun, knowing that the imperial line was about to change, in turn yielded the throne to Yu. Yao and Shun belonged to the Five Emperors, so the text says that they “abdicated and became emperors.”

Zi Zhi was the chancellor of Yan, and Kuai was the name of its king. Zi Zhi was the son-in-law of Su Qin. Su Qin’s younger brother, Su Dai, went to Yan as an envoy on behalf of Qi. He used the story of Yao offering the throne to Xu You to persuade King Kuai of Yan to yield his throne to Zi Zhi. Zi Zhi then took control of Yan. The people resented his acceptance of the abdication and refused to obey him. Three years later, civil unrest broke out in Yan. King Xuan of Qi adopted Su Dai’s plan and sent troops to attack Yan, and King Kuai was killed as a result…

Jiao Zhanzi killed the heir of the state of Yan at court, leaving Yan without a successor. Did he not suffer such disaster by imitating the ancient deeds of Yao and Shun?

King Tang of Shang and King Wu of Zhou raised armies and established royal rule; Bai Gong Sheng raised an army to seize power and was destroyed.

Note: Those who gained the realm by following Heaven’s mandate and answering the people’s wishes may, on the surface, appear to have done so through either a struggle for power or abdication. But if one merely copies these outward actions without understanding why they were appropriate, defeat and ruin will follow.

Commentary: King Tang of Yin-Shang attacked Jie of Xia, and King Wu of Zhou conquered Zhou of Shang. Both rulers acted under Heaven’s mandate, bringing stability to the realm. The various states came to pay court, and later generations carried on the work of the Three Kings. That is why it is said that they “struggled and became kings.” Yet when circumstances call for military action, one should act as Tang and Wu did; when they call for abdication, one should act as Yao and Shun did. Things change in countless ways, and responses must change with the times. One must not cling to the outward forms of struggle or abdication.

Bai Gong’s name was Sheng. He was the grandson of King Ping of Chu and the son of Crown Prince Jian. King Ping of Chu listened to Fei Wuji and married the Qin woman who had originally been intended for Crown Prince Jian, thereby alienating the crown prince. Jian fled to Zheng, married a woman from Zheng, and had Sheng. After the Grand Tutor Wu She was killed, his son Wu Zixu escaped to Wu, and Sheng went with him. The two once farmed together in the countryside. Later, Zixi, the chief minister of Chu, invited Sheng back and enfeoffed him in Bai. Sheng arrogated the title of duke and, claiming that Zheng had killed his father, repeatedly asked permission to send troops in revenge. When his requests were denied, he raised an army against Chu. Chu sent Ye Gong Ziga to attack him, and Bai Gong Sheng was ultimately destroyed. Hence it is said that “Bai Gong struggled and was destroyed.”

From this we can see that struggle and abdication, as well as the conduct of Yao and Jie, are judged differently according to the times. Honor and disgrace, too, each have their proper time; no single course of action can be treated as an unchanging rule.

Commentary: Struggle and abdication can stand respectively for military force and civil governance; Yao and Jie represent conduct opposed in right and wrong. To govern the realm and establish order, civil governance is more valuable than force. To quell disorder, military force may be more fitting than civil governance. Thus the relative worth of civil and military approaches changes with the times, and there is no fixed rule for choosing between right and wrong courses of action. In the eras of Yao, Shun, Tang, and Wu, abdication or conquest was appropriate in its own way. In the times of King Kuai of Yan and Bai Gong Sheng, copying those actions could be misguided; they cannot be treated as universal rules.

A roof beam or ridgepole can be used to batter a city wall, but not to block a mouse hole. This shows that different implements serve different purposes.

Commentary: “Beam” refers to the roof beam, and “ridgepole” to the roof ridge; “batter” means to strike, and “block” means to stop up. A beam and a ridgepole are large enough to batter a city wall, but unsuitable for blocking a mouse hole. This shows that implements differ in size and therefore in use.

A fine horse such as a Qiji or Hualiu can run a thousand li in a day; but when it comes to catching mice, it is no match for a wildcat. This shows that different abilities each have their own strengths.

Fine horses such as the Qiji and Hualiu can run swiftly, traveling a thousand li in a day. Yet if asked to catch a small mouse, they are no match for a wildcat. Each excels at a different skill, so they cannot be judged by one standard.

Owls can catch fleas and lice at night and see the tiniest things. But in the daytime, even with their eyes wide open, they cannot see a hill. This shows that the natures of all things differ.

The commentary says: If we follow the differences among things and let each develop naturally, all things will find what suits them.

So if one insists that only what one considers right is right, and that only the form of governance one advocates counts as orderly, then one has not yet understood the principles by which Heaven and Earth operate or the natures of the myriad things.

The commentary says: Viewed in light of the principles governing Heaven and Earth and the natures of the myriad things, what accords with oneself is called right, and what does not is called wrong; what follows one’s nature is called stable, and what disrupts harmony is called disorder. Yet the myriad things have no fixed, unchanging standard, and people have no rule that applies forever. Things differ in their natures and needs, so right and wrong have no absolute verdict. If one judges only by one’s own standards, one will conclude that one is right and others are wrong. This shows only that one understands oneself, not others.

From the standpoint of the Dao, right and wrong have no fixed place. Return the myriad things to Heaven and Earth, allowing each to follow its own course and develop alongside the others, and then things of different regions and kinds can all find their proper place.

The subcommentary explains: The word “perhaps” leaves the thought open; “taking as one’s teacher” means using one’s own mind as the standard. Each thing is shaped by its surroundings and its nature. When people cling to their own views, they take themselves to be right without knowing that others consider them wrong. They also think their own governance is orderly without knowing that things may experience it as disruptive. Clinging to one’s own judgment prevents one from seeing one’s own shortcomings; clinging to one’s own way of governing obscures the fact that order and disorder have no fixed standard. Order and disorder both arise from the principles governing Heaven and Earth, while the absence of any fixed place for right and wrong reflects the nature of the myriad things. To miss this point is to have failed to understand the underlying principle.

This is like following Heaven alone and denying Earth, or speaking only of Yin and not of Yang: plainly, this cannot work. The subcommentary says that Heaven and Earth, and Yin and Yang, exist in relation to each other. Without Earth, though there were Heaven, the myriad things could not take shape; without Yang, though there were Yin, living beings could not survive. Therefore…

If you believe one way of doing things is right, you must conclude that all other ways are wrong. The claim that the world should have order and never disorder is plainly untenable. If someone keeps discussing such principles and refuses to stop, they are either foolish or trying to deceive others.

【Commentary】Heaven and Earth, Yin and Yang, arise in relation to one another. Right and wrong, order and disorder also alternate. How could only one side remain?

【Explanation】To insist that everything you advocate is right and reject every differing view is like acknowledging Heaven but denying Earth. Anyone who keeps speaking about such principles is either profoundly foolish or deliberately deceiving others.

The Five Emperors each yielded the throne in a different way, and the Xia, Shang, and Zhou dynasties each had a different way of passing it on. When a practice does not suit its time and goes against the customs of the day, it is called usurpation.

【Explanation】“Emperors” refers to the Five Emperors, and “kings” to the Three Kings; “the Three Dynasties” means Xia, Shang, and Zhou. “Yielding” means giving the throne to another, while “succession” means taking up the throne. Sometimes the throne passed to someone of the same clan, and sometimes it was yielded to someone of a different surname; hence the ways of yielding differed. Sometimes it passed from father to son, while at other times someone raised an army, usurped power, and killed the ruler; hence the ways of succession differed. Some practices came at the wrong time and went against the course of Heaven; others did not accord with the people’s wishes and went against human affairs. King Kuai of Yan imitated the abdication of Yao and Shun, but as a result the royal line was broken. Bai Gongsheng imitated the military campaigns of Tang the Successful and King Wu of Zhou, but was defeated and perished. Practices of this kind are called usurpation.

A practice suited to its time and in accord with the customs of the day can be called righteous.

【Explanation】Using force and yielding the throne through ritual were different approaches, but each had to be judged according to its time; one should not insist on a single method. Tang the Successful and King Wu of Zhou rose through force, while Yao of Tang and Shun of Yu yielded the throne through ritual. Their actions accorded with the Way of Heaven above and the people’s wishes below, so both can be called righteous.

“Be quiet, River Earl!” said the sea spirit Ruo, from a parable by Zhuangzi. “What do you know of the boundaries between high and low, or the measures of great and small?”

【Commentary】What the world honors may sometimes become lowly; what people consider great may be seen as small by the world. So, as each thing follows its own nature, there cannot be just one way of acting. This is why the Five Emperors and the Three Kings acted differently.

【Explanation】The River Earl had not yet grasped the principle, so the sea spirit Ruo told him to say less and stop wasting his words. Great and small have no fixed standard, and high and low no lasting boundary. The conditions of things are often reversed, while people judge good and bad as they please. How can you determine the boundaries between high and low, or great and small? These words mean that the River Earl does not understand.

The River Earl said, “If that is so, what should I do, and what should I avoid? What should I accept in words, and what should I reject? In the human world, what should I pursue, and what should I let go? What, in the end, should I do?”

【Explanation】“What should I do?” means “How should I act?” Though the River Earl had accepted profound principles, he had not yet grasped their essential meaning. So he asked again to resolve his doubts: If I want to act in the human world while preserving my body and mind and cultivating the Daoist arts, what may I do, and what…

There is no need to cling to doing something, refusing something, accepting something, pressing forward, yielding ground, or any of the countless other things. How, then, should one deal with them? Please instruct me; I am willing to follow your guidance for the rest of my life.

The Lord of the Northern Sea (the deity of the Northern Sea) said, “From the perspective of the Dao (the Way), what counts as noble and what as lowly? This is what is meant by their repeated transformation into one another.”

Note: The relation between nobility and lowliness changes again and again, as each takes the place of the other.

Commentary: “Reversal and return” means repeated change. Nobility and lowliness arise from illusory attachments. When we now view them through the principle of open understanding, what is noble may become lowly, and what is lowly may become noble again. This is why it is called “reversal and return.”

“If you constrain your own mind, you will go against the Dao.”

Note: If you cling rigidly to your own views, you cannot accord with the Dao.

Commentary: In cultivating the Dao, you should follow what comes naturally and let your mind be free. Instead, you cling to your own ideas and deliberately keep them in check. In doing so, you go against the principle of open understanding and cannot accord with the Dao.

“What counts as little and what as much? This is what is meant by their waxing and waning in turn.”

Note: These things change according to their circumstances, so their use has no fixed pattern.

Commentary: “Alternation” means taking turns; “use” means putting something into practice. Things sometimes gather, turning a little into much; at other times, they disperse, turning much into little. Their expansion and decline, and their changes in turn, follow no fixed rule.

“If you settle on a single way of doing things, you will fail to keep pace with the Dao’s changes.”

Note: If you cannot adapt to change, you cannot accord with the Dao.

Commentary: Things change in their uses and in their amounts, so one must adapt to circumstances and respond as events unfold. In this way, one can be in harmony with all things. If you cling to a single way of doing things, you cannot accord with how things truly are.

“Dignified and upright, like a country with a ruler, yet with no partial favor to bestow.”

Note: This means dealing with things fairly and appropriately.

Commentary: In people’s eyes, one who embodies the Dao is dignified and upright, like a ruler seated in state. Such a person becomes a model for all things and is respected in every quarter. Though he nourishes the people, he does not bestow favor in a partial way.

“Far-reaching and enduring, like people making offerings to the land gods, yet without granting blessings to one person over another.”

Note: This is what all under Heaven pray to together.

Commentary: “Far-reaching” describes something enduring and extending into the distance. It is like the people making offerings to the gods of the soil and grain, who do not favor one person by granting blessings only to him.

“Vast and boundless, like the four directions with no end and no borders.”

Note: It is vast and without limit, with no fixed place.

Commentary: “All-embracing” means universal and immense. The Perfected Person’s mind extends everywhere and favors no direction. He aids living beings far and wide and cares for all things equally. This is like the boundless expanse of east, west, south, and north: like empty space, it has no borders or limits.

“He embraces and holds all things. Who, then, would need his support or protection?”

Note: He encompasses and governs living beings, helping all things return to their proper place and treating them equally. What need would there be for support or protection?

The sage embraces all things and regards all beings equally, allowing each to develop on equal terms. The sage has no private attachment that favors or protects one over another. Who could hold on to a fixed intention to rescue, receive, and support all things? This is called “having no fixed method.”

Guo Xiang’s commentary says: “Having no fixed method makes every different way appropriate in its own place.”

The explanatory commentary says: This is like a bright mirror reflecting things, or a deep valley returning their echoes. It responds to each thing differently, taking countless forms without settling on any one fixed way.

All things are equal by nature. How could there be an absolute distinction between what is long and what is short?

Guo Xiang’s commentary says: “There is nothing among the myriad things that is not complete in itself.”

The explanatory commentary says: All things take different forms, yet each grows through the nourishment of Heaven and Earth. The wild duck’s legs are short and the crane’s are long, but each is suited to its nature. In this sense, all things are equal.

The Dao has no end or beginning, while the myriad things are born and die.

Guo Xiang’s commentary says: “Birth and death are simply changes within an endless process of transformation. They are not true beginnings or endings.”

The explanatory commentary says: The empty and open Great Dao has no beginning or end, but things attached to physical form mistakenly measure birth and death. That is why the Laozi says: “Face it, and you cannot see its beginning; follow it, and you cannot see its end.”

Do not rely on things already accomplished and take pride in them.

Guo Xiang’s commentary says: “There is no constant, unchanging state of completion.”

The explanatory commentary says: The Great Dao transforms itself freely and does not cling to fixed forms. Why would it need to depend on some external counterpart in order to bring things into being or complete them?

At times empty, at times full, it does not treat physical form as a fixed place.

Guo Xiang’s commentary says: “It does not take physical form as a fixed place, nor cling to form and make it unchanging.”

The explanatory commentary says: This is like the transformations of Yin-Yang: spring brings growth and autumn brings decline; fullness and waning, flourishing and withering, all follow the seasons. Why, then, should people cling to their physical forms or be confined by rank and status?

The years cannot be lifted up and carried away.

Guo Xiang’s commentary says: “One may wish to make the years depart, but it cannot be done.”

Time cannot be held in place.

Guo Xiang’s commentary says: “One may wish to make time stop, but it cannot be done.”

The explanatory commentary says: The length of life and the pace of time are natural principles, beyond human control. When the years arrive, they cannot be carried away; when time passes, it cannot be stopped. People can only follow what is natural. All of this is part of life itself.

Decline and growth, fullness and emptiness: when one phase ends, another begins.

Guo Xiang’s commentary says: “Transformation renews itself day by day and never clings to an old state.”

The explanatory commentary says: Yin Qi recedes and Yang Qi grows; summer reaches fullness and winter wanes. The Qi of the four seasons cycles around, ending and beginning again. The Great Dao is whole and undivided, renewing itself through change day after day. One need only follow nature’s course, without taking pains to arrange it.

All that has been said explains the principles of the Great Dao and discusses the patterns of the myriad things.

The explanatory commentary says: What Hai Ruo discussed earlier explains the principles of the Great Dao and the profound workings of the myriad things.

The life and death of the myriad things, their ceaseless transformations, move as swiftly as a galloping horse.

Guo Xiang’s commentary says: “Simply follow the changes and play your part within them.”

The explanatory commentary says: Life and death turn without pause, moving with the speed of a galloping horse.

Seen in this light, a hundred years pass in the blink of an eye. What is there to hold on to?

Nothing that moves and changes remains unchanged, and no moment stands still.

Note: So we should not cling to any particular state or stubbornly hold on to it.

Explanation: All things flow and change, and the times shift as swiftly as two people passing each other, as briefly as a white colt flashing past a gap in the wall. Thus, no movement escapes change, and no moment remains fixed.

Why insist on doing something? And why insist on doing nothing? All things change of their own accord.

Note: Deliberately doing something or deliberately doing nothing only gets in the way of things changing of themselves.

Explanation: Though all things are manifold and complex, each receives its nature from Heaven and calmly follows change; inevitably, it changes of its own accord. Why trouble yourself over whether to act or not to act?

The River Earl said, “If that is so, what is there to value in the Dao?”

Note: What is valuable is that all things can change of their own accord.

Explanation: If acting and not acting make no difference, then the principles of ordinary people and sages make no difference either. If we simply let change follow its natural course, why value the highest Dao? The River Earl asks again because he is still uncertain.

The Ruler of the North Sea (the god of the North Sea) said, “One who understands the Dao must understand how things work. One who understands how things work must understand how to adapt. One who understands how to adapt will not let external things harm him.”

Note: One who understands the Dao knows that he cannot control the generation of the myriad things. Since he cannot control it, how could he create himself? Human beings come into being naturally. The limbs, the hundred parts of the body, the five organs, and the spirit all take shape naturally, without deliberate arrangement by oneself. Since this is so, why exert the mind deliberately after coming into being? One who understands this principle can surely abandon cleverness that exceeds his proper role, let go of the desire to prolong life, and follow change while adapting to circumstances. External things, then, will neither wound his mind nor harm his person, allowing him to remain whole.

Explanation: One who recognizes the Dao of open emptiness must understand profound and subtle principles. One who understands these profound and subtle principles must possess the wisdom to adapt to external things. Once one knows that neither adaptation nor the underlying truth has any fixed, unchanging rule, one can follow what is arranged and let change take its course. Then life and death cannot unsettle him, so how could external things harm him? This passage answers the River Earl’s question and goes on to explain why the highest Dao is valuable.

One who possesses the highest De (Virtue) cannot be burned by fire or drowned by water. Cold and heat cannot harm him, and birds and beasts cannot injure him.

Note: When the mind is settled, danger cannot make one feel endangered. When one’s disposition is at ease with all things, hardship cannot make one feel pain.

Explanation: The highest De refers to those who have attained the Dao. Even when they conceal their brilliance and blend with the common world, dwelling amid the dust of the everyday, they are not disturbed by the changes of the seasons, nor harmed by the three calamities…

Once inner harm has been removed, external things can no longer injure him. This shows that what makes one who understands the Great Dao precious is not a contempt for external things. Note: Even when his heart is at peace, he does not therefore offend external things. Commentary: Water and fire cannot harm him, and birds and beasts cannot injure him because his heart is at peace; harm cannot bring about injury. He neither resists or flees from things, nor carelessly provokes them.

He can discern danger and safety. Note: He knows that some circumstances cannot be escaped. Commentary: Harm cannot injure him precisely because he can discern danger and safety and adapt to his circumstances. When faced with something inescapable, he can meet it peacefully.

He is at ease with misfortune and good fortune. Note: He peacefully accepts whatever fate brings. Commentary: “At ease” means peaceful acceptance. Misfortune is hardship and obstruction; good fortune is ease and success. A person of utmost De responds to change as it comes, understanding that hardship and success each have their allotted course, and that misfortune and good fortune have no fixed source. Thus, what he welcomes is neither hardship nor success in itself, but the ability to meet whatever comes with equanimity.

He is careful about coming and going, and about what to accept or reject. Note: He understands that decisions about coming and going, acceptance and rejection, are not made solely by oneself. Commentary: He regards the unsettled question of coming and going with care, and judges whether acceptance or rejection is timely. Even as he moves with changes in external things, he always remains in the right place; then nothing can harm him. Note: He does not regard harm as harm, and so nothing can harm him. Commentary: He regards danger and safety alike, accords with the Dao in both misfortune and good fortune, and moves together with change. Thus external things cannot harm him. This sums up the earlier meaning of “unharmed.”

That is why it is said: “Heaven is within; the human is without.” Note: Inborn nature is held within the heart, while things that accord with that nature appear without. As the “Great Ancestral Teacher” chapter says, understanding what belongs to Heaven and what belongs to the human reaches the highest state. Recognizing the distinction between inner and outer makes clear that none of this is contrived by human effort. Commentary: Inborn nature is stored within the heart; the many affairs a person encounters outwardly are not deliberately contrived. When things are left to their natural course, external things cannot harm him.

De resides in Heaven. Note: If one indulges the human mind and its contrivances, one will wander astray and lose one’s nature. Commentary: The beauty of utmost De lies in following what is natural. If one gives free rein to the human mind and its contrivances, one’s inborn nature will scatter.

Understanding the actions of Heaven and the human has its root in Heaven, and its place in “attainment.” Note: This is the wisdom that proceeds in accordance with inborn nature and does not exceed one’s proper limits. Thus, even when acting outwardly, its root remains in Heaven, and its position is always appropriate. Commentary: This is true knowledge. “Position” means the place one occupies; applying true knowledge in the world…

Although they immerse themselves in worldly affairs and experience countless changes, they always take nature as their foundation. They abide in the utmost emptiness and stillness without losing their original nature; even when they act, their hearts remain tranquil.

They hesitate as they advance and retreat, sometimes bending, sometimes extending.

Note: These are changes that arise in response to the moment.

Commentary: “Stumbling” describes an uncertain manner of advancing and retreating. The Perfected Person responds to worldly affairs and adapts to the myriad things, sometimes coming into prominence and sometimes withdrawing; sometimes bending, sometimes extending, they never cling to a single way of acting. Their aspirations accord with the Dao, and they can respond to the moment and act appropriately.

Return to the root and speak of the ultimate nature of things.

Note: Though his understanding encompasses Heaven and Earth, and his actions examine the myriad things, he never loses sight of the essential root. In this way, both the Way of Heaven and the way of humanity can be preserved.

Commentary: Though he mingles with the human world, his heart remains settled and still. He dwells at the pivot of things and returns to the source. Everything he says arises from the utmost emptiness and stillness; his actions do not depart from tranquility, and his words do not depart from silence.

Someone asked, “What is of Heaven, and what is of humanity?”

Commentary: He Bo had not yet grasped the mystery, so he asked again, hoping for an answer in what followed.

Ruo of the Northern Sea, the deity of the Northern Sea, said, “Cattle and horses are born with four legs. This is of Heaven. Putting a halter on a horse or a nose ring on an ox is of humanity.”

Note: People live in this world; can they avoid driving cattle and riding horses? And if they drive cattle and ride horses, can they avoid putting halters on them or nose rings through them? Cattle and horses do not resist these restraints because they are already within the allotment ordained for them by Heaven. So long as something accords with that allotment, even if it is accomplished through human action, its foundation still lies in Heaven.

Commentary: Cattle and horses receive their nature from the natural order and are born with four legs. Since this has nothing to do with human action, it is called “of Heaven.” Putting a halter on a horse or a nose ring on an ox, by contrast, comes from human intention, so it is called “of humanity.” Yet though an ox’s nose can be pierced and a horse’s head fitted with a halter, people may not know why this is so or be able to explain its reason. Though something may come about through human intent, its principle ultimately returns to the work of creation. To show that the Way of Heaven and the way of humanity are one, the text uses cattle and horses as its example.

Therefore it is said: “Do not let human methods injure what is natural.”

Note: It is acceptable to put nose rings on cattle and halters on horses. But if they are driven too hard or made to run beyond their proper limits, their natural way is harmed.

Commentary: It is acceptable to follow nature while applying necessary human measures, such as putting halters on cattle and horses or nose rings on them. But if this goes against the work of creation, it means pursuing human contrivance and injuring what is natural.

Do not let human purposes injure the nature bestowed by Heaven.

Note: If something is not allowed to follow its original state but is deliberately changed, where then is its original nature?

Commentary: If one acts in accordance with one’s nature and does not go to excess, one can travel a thousand miles and still succeed; but 【the original text breaks off here】.

Innate nature is complete from the beginning. If one forces a poor horse to keep up with a fine steed, driving it to run without rest or restraint, then human desires and worldly affairs will destroy the natural order, and life will be plunged into danger in an instant. Where, then, is its natural disposition? This is true not only of horses and oxen; it is true of all things.

Do not sacrifice your nature for the sake of fame.

Note: What a person can obtain has its limits. Sacrificing one’s nature for fame means going beyond those limits.

Commentary (an explanation in the annotated text): Fame is endlessly tempting, while the nature a person can sustain is limited. If one uses a limited nature to pursue boundless fame, the natural order will be extinguished, and both nature and life will be lost.

Carefully guard your nature and do not lose it. This is called returning to one’s true nature.

Note: True nature lies within the limits of each being’s own nature.

Commentary: Whether one is foolish or clever, short-lived or long-lived, struggling or successful, honored or disgraced—all are bestowed by nature, each with its own allotted measure. A person should simply guard their own nature with care, avoid being led astray by external things, and seek only what falls within their proper share, without thereby losing the Great Dao. This is called returning to the root, going back to the source, and restoring one’s true nature. This statement sums up the profound principles discussed above.

Kui, the legendary one-legged creature, envies the centipede; the centipede envies the snake; the snake envies the wind; the wind envies the eyes; the eyes envy the heart.

Commentary: The word lian can mean “to admire” or “to envy.” Kui is a one-legged creature shaped like a drum, with a foot like a human foot and its heel facing forward. The Classic of Mountains and Seas says that on Mount Liubo in the Eastern Sea there lived a creature shaped like an ox, blue and hornless, with only one leg. It made a sound like thunder as it moved and was called Kui. When the Yellow Emperor fought Chiyou, he is said to have stretched Kui’s hide over a drum, whose sound carried five hundred li.

The centipede has many legs. Because Kui has so few legs, it envies the centipede’s many; the centipede, in turn, envies the legless snake. The snake envies the wind because its body is small; the wind, being dark, envies the bright eyes; and the eyes, though they can see external things, envy the heart within. The point is that all things between Heaven and Earth receive their nature from the natural order, each with its own light and darkness, presence and absence. There is no need to admire others in vain. One need only follow one’s nature and let things be as they are; then one accords with the mysterious Dao. Those who turn their backs on their nature stir their minds recklessly and pursue other things. So the author uses familiar examples such as Kui to explain the subtle workings of the natural order.

Another interpretation takes lian to mean “to pity.” Kui has only one leg and must hop and scurry, so it pities the centipede, burdened with many legs and wearied by moving them. The centipede has legs and can walk steadily, so it pities the legless snake, which struggles to move. The snake has a body and lives at ease, so it pities the wind, which has no form or substance and is dark and difficult to perceive. The wind drifts freely, so it pities the eyes, confined by their bodily form. The eyes… (The original text ends here unfinished.)

Kui (a one-footed creature) said to Xian (a many-legged insect), “I have only one foot. I hop to get around, and I can’t imagine anything easier. But you move with thousands of feet. How exhausting must that be?”

The commentary explains that chenti means to leap. Kui thought that hopping along on one foot was effortless, so he projected a human way of thinking onto Xian, hoping to understand why it had been born unlike other creatures.

Xian replied, “Have you never seen someone spit? When the saliva flies out, the larger drops are like pearls and the smaller ones like mist. They fall in all sizes, too many to count. Now you ask about my inborn functioning, yet you don’t know why it is as it is.”

The commentary explains that when people spit, they do not deliberately arrange the drops by size, yet the saliva naturally comes out in large and small droplets. In the same way, Xian’s many legs move according to their inborn functioning, and Xian itself does not know why. Kui asked from a human point of view; Xian answered in terms of natural functioning. The principle becomes clear in this exchange.

Xian then said to the snake, “I walk with many legs, yet I can’t move as fast as you do without any legs. Why is that?”

The commentary explains that Xian has many legs but moves slowly, while the legless snake moves quickly. By asking this, Xian shows that speed and slowness, and having legs or not, are each bestowed by the natural course of things.

The snake replied, “Inborn functioning is at work. How could it be changed so easily? What use would I have for legs?”

The annotation explains that living things do not first know they are going to live and only then come to life; nor do their activities begin only after they know they are going to act. Feet do not know why they can walk, eyes do not know why they can see, and the heart does not know why it can perceive. They operate naturally, each at ease in its own way. How quickly or slowly they act, and how keenly or dully they perceive, is not something they can decide for themselves. Yet some people insist on claiming ownership of themselves and their abilities, boasting of their talents. In doing so, they go against their natural functioning and wear down body and mind. Those who have attained the Dao understand that inborn functioning cannot be changed at will. They do not deliberately rely on cleverness and calculation, nor cling to their own actions, but let all things follow their natural course. Then, however they move, all things can roam freely and at ease.

Natural functions inherently operate in this way. Whether their movement is slow or swift, visible or invisible, does not alter them.

The wind has no intention of its own; it simply moves naturally. Why would it need to grow feet?

The snake said to the wind, “I crawl by twisting my back and ribs, so at least I have some kind of form. But you roar as you blow from the Northern Sea, then roar again as you blow into the Southern Sea, yet you seem to have no form at all. Why is that?”

The commentary explains: “Ribs” means the bones along the sides of the body. “Whoosh” describes both the sound of the wind and the way it stirs up dust. Since the snake has no feet, it must twist its back and ribs as it crawls. To say that it “has some kind of form” means that the snake has a body and can be seen. The wind has no body, yet it can move all things without restraint, blowing from north to south and stirring the sea. Puzzled by this invisible but powerful force, the snake asks its question, hoping to hear the wind’s answer.

The wind replied, “That is so: I roar as I blow from the Northern Sea and then into the Southern Sea. But if someone points a finger at me, I can do nothing to that finger; if someone steps on me, I can do nothing to that foot. These are small defeats for me. Yet I alone can break great trees and lift great houses into the air. To lose in many small matters yet win a great victory—that is the true great victory. Only a sage can do this.”

The note explains: To let natural functions run their course without competing with the myriad things is to accept defeat in those small matters. A sage’s way is to guide the myriad things and make use of people with different abilities, so that everyone finds their place and all things grow according to their nature. Then there is no one under Heaven who cannot live freely and at ease. This is why the sage achieves a great victory.

The commentary explains: Although the wind can blow from north to south and stir the sea, it cannot break a finger pointed at it, nor a foot that steps on it. This is what it means to lose in small matters. But when a fierce wind suddenly rises and spirals upward like a ram’s horn, it can lift great houses into the air and break thick, sturdy trees. That is a great victory. By way of analogy, an accomplished scholar does not fuss over his own conduct. He adapts to the ups and downs of the world, does not sharply distinguish the foolish from the wise in his dealings with others, and does not cling to judgments of right and wrong amid the noisy, dusty world. These are ways of not competing for small victories. To nurture the people and bring forth life, set Heaven and Earth in motion, and let the sun, moon, and stars shine upon all things—this is a great victory. This is beyond the understanding of ordinary people; only a sage can do it. The character “䠓” is also written “鰌.” “鰌” can mean to tread on or cover, but that interpretation is not adopted here.

Confucius was traveling in Kuang when people from Song surrounded him. He continued to play the zither and sing without stopping.

The commentary explains: “Cease” means to stop. Here, “Song” is likely a mistaken character for “Wei”; Kuang was a town in the state of Wei.

Confucius was traveling from the state of Lu to the state of Wei when he passed through Kuang. Yang Hu had once raided and oppressed the people of Kuang. Confucius resembled Yang Hu, and his disciple Yan Ke had once joined Yang Hu in raiding Kuang. At the time, Yan Ke was driving Confucius’s carriage. Seeing that Confucius looked like Yang Hu and that Yan Ke was driving, the people of Kuang assumed Yang Hu had returned and sent troops to surround Confucius. Confucius understood that hardship and success each have their allotted course, so he continued playing the zither and singing without pause.

Zilu went in to see Confucius and asked, “Master, why are you still so cheerful?”

“Cheerful” means happy. The people of Kuang had already surrounded them, so one might expect them to be anxious and afraid. Yet Confucius continued playing the zither and singing. Zilu did not understand what was on Confucius’s mind, so he asked this question. Some versions here have “worried” instead of “cheerful”; “worried” means anxious or distressed. Zilu wondered why Confucius, with trouble right before him, continued playing the zither and singing.

Confucius said, “Zilu, come here. I will explain the reason to you. For a long time I have wanted to avoid hardship, yet I still cannot escape it. That is fate. For a long time I have sought success, yet I have never found the opportunity. That is the course of the times.”

Confucius was about to explain that the course of the times and fate are simply as they are, so he used “wanting to avoid hardship” to express this point.

“Shun” means to avoid or refuse; “hardship” means adversity and lack of success, while “success” means getting ahead and achieving recognition. Confucius called Zhong You (Zilu) over to explain the matter: I want to avoid hardship, yet I cannot escape it. Is that not simply how fate has it? I have long sought success, yet have never attained it because the right moment has not come. When the course of the times and fate arrive, they cannot be refused; when they depart, they cannot be held back. One should therefore accept them calmly and follow things as they unfold, remaining at ease whatever one’s circumstances. Confucius used “avoiding hardship” to explain this principle, but in truth he was not attached to escaping hardship.

When people live in the age of Yao and Shun, no one under Heaven is trapped or held back. This is not because people know how to attain success. When people live in the age of Jie and Zhou, no one under Heaven truly gets ahead. This is not because people do not know how to avoid failure. These outcomes are brought about by the times.

There is no need to wear oneself out over either success or hardship.

When people live in the age of Yao and Shun, the realm is at peace, and each person can live according to their proper place; therefore, no one is trapped or obstructed. When people live in the age of Jie and Zhou, the realm is in turmoil and all things fall out of their proper order; therefore, no one truly gets ahead. The times may be peaceful or perilous, and circumstances follow from that. People do not succeed because they know some particular method, nor do they meet with failure because they lack one.

To walk through water without avoiding dragons is the courage of a fisherman. To walk on land without avoiding rhinoceros-like beasts or tigers is the courage of a hunter. To face a press of blades closing in and still regard death as no different from life is the courage of a martyr.

Each person has something they can pursue with a settled mind and grow accustomed to doing.

When a situation has been settled, people can forget their fear. This is only a metaphor to introduce what follows.

To know that hardship has its allotted course and that success comes in its own time, and to face great danger without fear: this is the courage of a sage.

Note: Whatever circumstances a sage finds himself in, he can remain at ease.

Commentary: Sages understand the timing and the course allotted to them, and they know how hardship and success change. So even when they are in danger, they can always remain at ease. This applies the preceding metaphor to the sage.

Confucius said, “Be at ease. My allotted share in life has its own bounds.”

Note: One cannot control one’s allotted course in life, so there is no need to worry over it. Those who are at ease with their lot can roam freely wherever they go. Thus, whether confined in Kuang or Chen, or imprisoned at Youli, they are as calm as if they were in the halls of the heavenly palace.

Commentary: “At ease” means to dwell in peace and stability; “bounds” means limits or an allotted share. Confucius reassured Zilu: the mandate I received from Heaven has its own limits, and human affairs cannot alter them.

Before long, the commander of the armored troops came forward to apologize. “We thought you were Yang Hu, so we surrounded this place. Now we know you are not him. Please allow us to withdraw.” Having said this, he lifted the siege and left.

Commentary: “Before long” means after a short while. Once the commander realized Confucius was not Yang Hu, he led his soldiers forward to apologize, then lifted the siege and withdrew.

Gongsun Long asked Wei Mou, “When I was young, I studied the Way of the ancient kings; as I grew older, I mastered the practice of benevolence and righteousness. I can argue that different things are the same, and that the same things are different. I can distinguish the arguments about hardness and whiteness, and reason about ‘is’ and ‘is not,’ ‘can’ and ‘cannot.’ I have refuted the teachings of all the schools, and no one’s arguments can stump me. I thought my understanding had reached its highest point.

Note: Gongsun Long was from the state of Zhao and was famous for debate. The phrases ‘making the different the same’ and ‘separating hardness from whiteness’ refer to the arguments of the Logicians of his time. They discussed the relations of sameness and difference among things, and treated qualities such as hardness and whiteness as distinct.

Commentary: Trusting in his own intelligence and skill in argument, Gongsun Long believed he could defeat every school in debate and that no one could match his reputation.

“Now I have heard Zhuangzi’s words, and I feel bewildered. They seem utterly strange to me. I do not know whether my skill in debate falls short of his, or whether my understanding is inferior to his. Now I cannot even tell where to begin. What should I do?”

The frog said to the sea turtle, “I hop about on the rim of the well, and when I tire, I rest beside the broken bricks. When I jump into the water, it reaches just to my armpits and covers my chin. When I bounce around in the mud, it comes only up to the tops of my feet. I look back at the little insects and crabs in the well, then at the tadpoles, and none of them can match me. How free and happy I am!”

“Commentary: ‘Shu’ is the explanation offered by the commentator. ‘A sunken well’ means a shallow well; ‘well frame’ refers to the rim; ‘bricks’ are the stones lining its walls; and ‘the top of the foot’ means the instep. The frog lives in a shallow well, with little space and a limited view. Yet it thinks the well water and rim are already spacious enough, and compares itself with the insects, crabs, and tadpoles there, believing none can surpass it. The sea turtle is enormous and often swims with the waves in the sea, living in circumstances utterly unlike the frog’s.

The frog continued, “I alone possess this pool of well water, and enjoy the pleasures of the well in peace. That is already the height of contentment. Why not take a little time to come and see for yourself, sir?”

“Note: Here, the frog’s contentment with its shallow well is used as a metaphor for people with limited understanding who are satisfied with a narrow world. The original commentary compares this to a small bird that thinks the space among the mugwort plants is all the world it needs to live in.

After hearing this, Prince Mou leaned against his desk, sighed deeply, and laughed up at the sky. ‘Have you never heard of the frog at the bottom of a well?’ he said. The commentary above also explains that Prince Mou believed Sun Long, though skilled in debate, had not grasped the Dao of the Void and the Mysterious. After hearing Zhuangzi’s teachings, Sun Long realized how shallow his learning was and that his intellect could not reach them. He fell silent and turned to Prince Mou for instruction.”

For a moment, step into the well and take a look. Then boast of what you have seen, eager to show off your knowledge to the sea turtle.

The sea turtle from the Eastern Sea had not yet brought its left foot into the well when its right knee was already stuck.

Note: Things from the great sea do not avoid playing in narrow places because they dislike them.

Commentary: “Stuck” means restrained or caught. The well is very narrow, while the sea turtle is enormous. The little well cannot contain it, so as soon as the turtle lowered its right knee, it got stuck.

The sea turtle calmly backed out and said to the well frog, “A thousand li is not enough to show how vast the sea is; a thousand ren is not enough to probe its depths.”

Commentary: “Calmly backed out” describes withdrawing at an easy pace. A ren is an ancient unit of length, about seven chi. The sea turtle had not yet brought its left foot into the well, and its right knee was already stuck, so it backed out and told the well frog about the sea. People consider a thousand li a great distance, but that is not enough to show how vast the sea is. They consider a thousand ren a great height, but that is not enough to show how deep the sea is. The sea’s depth and breadth are boundless, beyond the measure of human standards. If one casually takes a well to be the greatest place in the world, does that not show how limited one’s knowledge is?

When Yu controlled the floods, there were nine years of flooding out of ten, yet the sea did not rise. In the time of King Tang of Shang, there were seven years of drought out of eight, yet the shore did not recede. The sea does not grow or shrink with changes that last either a short or a long time, nor does it rise or fall with the amount of water. This is what makes the Eastern Sea so vast.

Commentary: “Short time” means a brief period, while “long time” means an extended one; “changes” means shifts or alterations. In the time of Yao, floods occurred, and he commissioned Yu to control them. Yu succeeded, which is why the passage says “in Yu’s time.” During Yao’s ten years on the throne, there were floods in nine of them; during King Tang’s time, there were droughts in seven of eight years. Yet the drought did not lower the shoreline, and the floods did not add to the sea. This shows that the sea is immense and deep: it does not grow or shrink with temporary changes or with the amount of water. The Eastern Sea’s vastness is demonstrated precisely in this way.

Hearing these words, the well frog was frightened and unsettled, constrained and bewildered, and lost its former confidence.

Note: The well frog had little knowledge but envied the sea’s vastness, so hearing this left it dismayed.

Commentary: “Frightened” describes a state of alarm; “constrained and bewildered” describes unease and confusion. The well frog had thought the scenery in its well was the finest, with nothing in the world surpassing it. Then it suddenly heard the sea turtle speak of the sea and was at a loss, no longer knowing what to make of its former confidence. It was therefore frightened and shaken.

Gongsun Long studied the Way of the former kings, devoted himself to practicing benevolence and righteousness, mastered the teachings of the various schools, and was skilled at responding in debate. Yet if he were suddenly to hear Zhuangzi’s words, he too would be like the well frog encountering the sea turtle.

Besides, you do not yet understand the realm of right and wrong, yet you want to examine Zhuangzi’s teachings. That is like asking a mosquito to carry a mountain, or a tiny legendary insect called a shangju to race across a great river: it is more than their strength can bear.

Note: Each thing has its own limits; one cannot force things to imitate one another.

Commentary: The shangju is a millipede, also called shangju or qiequ. Although Sun Long was clever and knowledgeable, his learning was merely worldly knowledge, not true wisdom. He had not yet explored the full realm of right and wrong, yet he wanted to examine Zhuangzi’s teachings, which illuminate the highest truths. How is that any different from asking a mosquito to carry a mountain or a millipede to race across a river? The weak cannot carry a heavy load, and shallow wisdom cannot undertake great matters; failure is inevitable.

Besides, you do not understand arguments of the most refined subtlety, and can only content yourself with immediate gain. Is that not like a frog at the bottom of a well?

Commentary: Sun Long’s learning was narrow and shallow. How could he comment on Zhuangzi’s words, which probe the finest mysteries and attain the utmost subtlety? He could only debate right and wrong and seek passing fame and gain. To take that for the Dao—is that not like being a frog at the bottom of a well? This brings the passage to a close with a metaphor.

Zhuangzi’s words reach beyond the Yellow Springs below and ascend to the heavens above. They know no division between north and south, and flow freely without obstruction. They sink into realms beyond all measure, where there is no distinction between east and west. They begin in the Mysterious Darkness, the deep and subtle source, and return to the Great Communion, the realm in which all things are fully connected.

Note: This means that Zhuangzi’s teachings reach everywhere.

Commentary: “Step across” means to cross over, and can also mean to reach the utmost limit. “Great Firmament” refers to the heavens; “Mysterious Darkness” refers to the subtle source; and “Great Communion” refers to the Dao as it manifests among all things. Zhuangzi’s words probe the mysteries of principle, nature, and life. They reach up to the heavens, descend to the Yellow Springs, and extend in every direction without obstruction. His wisdom is hidden and unfathomable: it begins at the subtle source and returns to the world of all things, connecting universally with them.

Yet you cling anxiously to your narrow pursuits, trying to investigate through observation and to pursue answers through debate.

Note: One cannot reach the boundless realm by means of observation and debate.

This is like peering at the sky through a bamboo tube and measuring the earth with an awl—is that not terribly narrow? Go away.

Note: If you are not suited to take on this matter, then leave.

Commentary: “Rigidly fixated” describes someone who exerts effort in a constrained, clinging way. Seeking the Dao through observation and truth through debate takes one far from the Dao, however much effort one expends. It is like looking at the sky through a bamboo tube: how could you know how vast the heavens are? Or measuring the earth with an awl: how could you plumb its depths? Zhuangzi’s Dao accords with Heaven and Earth, while Sun Long’s De is as narrow as an awl and a bamboo tube; his wisdom…

The difference between Gongsun Long and Zhuangzi in learning and insight is so obvious. Since he still does not understand the principle at issue, he would do best to leave at once.

Have you never heard of the young man from Shouling who went to Handan to learn how to walk?

He failed to learn the Handan people’s way of walking and even forgot his own. In the end, he could only make his way home crawling on his hands.

Note: When someone imitates another person instead of relying on their own abilities, they may end up losing on both counts.

Commentary: Shouling was a town in the state of Yan, and Handan was the capital of Zhao. “Young man” here means a boy who had not yet come of age. People from Zhao were famous for their skill at walking, so a boy from Yan traveled a long way to learn their style. He went against his own nature: he neither mastered the Zhao people’s way of walking nor kept the way he had learned in Shouling. In the end, he had no choice but to crawl home on his hands.

If you still do not leave now, you will forget the abilities you already have and lose what you have learned.

Commentary: Zhuangzi’s teaching is profound and goes beyond ordinary worldly understanding. Although Sun Long was eloquent and widely learned, he never went beyond the bounds of conventional knowledge. So when Sun Long sought to learn from Zhuangzi, he ultimately could not grasp the principle at issue. If he remained devoted to his admiration and indecision, refusing to go home, he would forget his learning and abilities. This is precisely what the story of the young man from Shouling illustrates.

Gongsun Long’s mouth fell open and would not close; his tongue stuck out and would not draw back. Then he fled in a daze.

Commentary: “Qu” means to open the mouth, and “yi” means to flee. First he heard Zhuangzi speak and felt that his teaching went beyond what the eyes and ears could grasp. Later, he heard Wei Mou explain it and felt even more strongly that the principle transcended words and appearances. The states of understanding described by Zhuangzi and Wei Mou were connected, yet far beyond Gongsun Long’s capacity to comprehend. He was so shocked that he stood open-mouthed and tongue-tied, then fled in a daze.

Zhuangzi was fishing beside the Pu River. The King of Chu sent two senior officials to visit him first. They said, “We hope to entrust you with the affairs of our state.”

Commentary: The Pu is a river in the Dong Commandery region. The King of Chu here refers to King Wei of Chu. Zhuangzi cherished the Dao of Wuwei (non-action) and simply fished beside the Pu River. The King of Chu had heard that he was wise and perceptive, and wanted him to serve as an adviser in government. So he sent people bearing gifts to convey his intentions and express his hope of entrusting him with the affairs of the state. Governing a state involves many burdens and is bound to bring worry and toil.

Holding his fishing rod and without turning around, Zhuangzi said, “I have heard that Chu has a sacred tortoise that has been dead for three thousand years. The king wrapped it in cloth, placed it in a bamboo box, and keeps it enshrined above the ancestral temple. Tell me: would this tortoise rather be dead, with its bones treasured by others, or alive, dragging its tail through the mud?”

The turtle is regarded as having wondrous powers. So people cut it open and take out its shell to use in divination, by which they can determine good or ill fortune. They place the shell in a bamboo box, cover it with a cloth, and store it in the ancestral temple. They use it to consult about matters of state, showing how highly they prize it.

Zhuangzi asked the two officials, “Would this turtle rather be alive, dragging its tail through the mud, or would it choose to be cut open, leaving behind a reputation and honored with a place in the ancestral temple?” Zhuangzi knew the turtle’s heart, so he remained at ease and paid them no attention.

The two officials said, “It would rather be alive, dragging its tail through the mud.” Zhuangzi said, “Then go back. I too will live with my tail dragging through the mud.”

Note: Every being has a way of life suited to it.

Commentary: Zhuangzi held fast to lofty aspirations and cherished a free, untroubled life among the mountains and seas. His way of nourishing life was like that of the wild pheasant by the marsh; his choice, too, was like the turtle in the mud, which would rather drag its tail and live freely. So he urged the envoys to return at once, hoping to preserve his life of Wuwei (non-action) and contentment.

Huizi was prime minister in the state of Liang. Zhuangzi went to visit him.

Commentary: Huizi’s name was Huishi. He was from the state of Song and served as prime minister to King Hui of Liang. He was widely learned and well informed, and skilled at debate and analyzing questions. Since he was Zhuangzi’s friend, Zhuangzi went to see him.

Someone said to Huizi, “Zhuangzi has come here because he wants to take your place as prime minister.”

Commentary: Someone in Liang thought that Zhuangzi was exceptionally talented and virtuous, and that the king of Liang would surely treat him with respect. Huizi’s position as prime minister, they feared, might therefore be taken from him. So the person told Huizi that Zhuangzi wanted to replace him.

Huizi was frightened when he heard this. He mobilized troops and searched the capital for three days and nights.

Note: He mobilized the troops and put them in formation.

Commentary: After hearing this, Huishi thought the rumor might come true. He was terrified and worried that his position was in danger, so he mobilized troops and searched the capital for Zhuangzi for three days and nights.

Zhuangzi went to see Huizi and said to him, “In the south there is a bird called the yuanchu, a mythical bird of the phoenix kind. Do you know it? The yuanchu takes flight from the South Sea and flies to the North Sea. It will not perch on any tree but the parasol tree; it will eat nothing but bamboo seeds; it will drink nothing but the sweet water of a spring. Just then, an owl finds a rotten rat. The yuanchu flies past, and the owl looks up at it and cries, ‘Hah!’ as if scolding it.”

Commentary: The yuanchu is a divine bird of the luan and phoenix kind; some say it is a young phoenix. The “refined seeds” are bamboo seeds, and the sweet spring is water as delicious as sweet wine. “Hah” is a sound of anger and scolding. Huishi feared that Zhuangzi had come to take his position as prime minister, so he mobilized troops to search for him. Zhuangzi went to see him and used this parable to explain: a divine bird of the phoenix kind chooses only the parasol tree for its perch, bamboo seeds for its food, and sweet spring water for its drink…

A crow relishes nothing but rotten mice, yet it looks up and scolds the phoenix, the legendary bird, thinking it has come to steal its food. This is like Huishi (Master Hui), who set great store by his post as chief minister of Liang and so suspected that Zhuangzi, too, coveted wealth and honor and wanted to seize the position. How could he know that Zhuangzi was lofty and detached, and cared nothing for fame or profit? Do you now mean to intimidate me with the state of Liang?

Note: Different things have different preferences and pursuits.

Commentary: The crow takes a rotten mouse to be a delicacy, so it looks up and scolds the phoenix. Huishi regards the post of chief minister as an honor, so he suspects Zhuangzi. Here the earlier analogy is brought together.

Zhuangzi and Huishi were strolling on a bridge over the Hao River.

Commentary: Hao is the name of a river in the area of Zhongli Commandery in Huainan. Zhuangzi’s tomb is there, along with a place said to be where Zhuangzi and Huishi once strolled. Some say they held their conversation on a stone bridge built across the Hao.

Zhuangzi said, “The white fish are swimming out, at ease and unhurried. That is the joy of fish.”

Commentary: “At ease and unhurried” describes a relaxed, carefree manner. Fish swim in water and birds dwell on land; each follows its nature, and all things can move freely and joyfully. Zhuangzi was skilled at discerning the states of all things, so he said he knew that the fish were happy.

Huishi said, “You are not a fish. How do you know the fish are happy?”

Commentary: Huishi had not discerned the nature of all things, so he challenged Zhuangzi: since Zhuangzi was not a fish, how could he know that fish were happy?

Zhuangzi said, “You are not me. How do you know that I don’t know the fish are happy?”

Note: Zhuangzi uses this exchange to show that being different from one another does not prove that we cannot understand one another. You are not me, yet you can still judge that I do not know the fish are happy. Likewise, although I am not a fish, that does not necessarily mean I cannot know that fish are happy.

Commentary: If you say, “I am not a fish, so I do not know the joy of fish,” then since you are not me, how can you know me? You are not me, yet you still claim to know whether I know or do not know. Though I am not a fish, why should that prevent me from knowing the joy of fish? Zhuangzi turns the question back on Huishi, leaving him little room to object.

Huishi said, “I am not you, so of course I do not understand you. You are not a fish, so you do not know the fish are happy. That is certain.”

Note: Huishi sets aside his original question and instead counters with a verbal argument.

Commentary: Huishi is not Zhuangzi, so he does not understand Zhuangzi. Since Zhuangzi is not a fish, how could he know that fish are happy? In this argument, the claim that he “does not know” has not been overturned. Huishi leaves aside the original point and switches to another line of argument to put Zhuangzi on the spot.

Zhuangzi said, “Let us return to where our conversation began.”

Commentary: “Follow back” means to trace something to its source. Huishi used many words in argument but did not make the reasoning clear. He abandoned the original topic and turned instead to pursuing side issues…

“How do you know that the fish are happy?” Huizi asked. He meant: “You are not a fish, so how can you understand their happiness?”

Zhuangzi replied, “Since you know I am not a fish, yet ask how I know that fish are happy, you must already know that I understand what they feel. I knew it while standing on the bridge over the Hao River. Why would I need to go into the water?”

Fish that live in water are at home there, just as land animals are at home on land. Each thing has an environment suited to its life. Neither Heaven and Earth nor Yin-Yang can change where things are at ease or alter their original nature. When we grasp the principles of things, we can understand how they feel. As Zhuangzi and Huizi wandered and talked above the Hao River, Zhuangzi sensed the fish’s ease and happiness; he did not need to enter the water himself.

The commentary explains that Zhuangzi uses his exchange with Huizi to show how argument works: Huizi is not Zhuangzi, yet he can judge whether Zhuangzi knows that the fish are happy. So Zhuangzi, though not a fish, may still understand their happiness. By discerning the nature of all things, we can understand one thing through another without having to become it ourselves.