《南華真經註疏》Vol. 20

Is there, between Heaven and Earth, an absolute happiness—something that can nourish both body and mind?

Guo Xiang’s commentary says: Only when we forget the pursuit of happiness can happiness be fulfilled; when happiness is fulfilled, life can be preserved. If this is called having happiness, then in the highest happiness there is no deliberate pursuit of pleasure. If this is called having no happiness, life can still be preserved and there is no sorrow.

Cheng Xuanying’s subcommentary says: This passage poses a question. “Ultimate” means the highest degree, and “happiness” means joy. The author is asking: Is there, between Heaven and Earth, a kind of ultimate happiness that can nourish and preserve life?

Then what should one do, what should one rely on, what should one avoid, where should one dwell, what should one follow, what should one give up, what should one love, and what should one hate?

Guo Xiang’s commentary says: Choosing among these eight things is not enough to preserve life. Only by making no deliberate choices and accepting whatever comes can one preserve oneself.

Cheng Xuanying’s subcommentary says: “What” means “which thing.” If one wishes to follow the Way of ultimate happiness and preserve life, what should one do, rely on, avoid, dwell in, follow, give up, love, and hate in order to accord with that Way? The passage first raises these questions, then explains them below.

What people throughout the world esteem is no more than wealth, rank, long life, and a good reputation. What they love is bodily comfort, fine food, splendid clothes, pleasing looks, and beautiful music.

Cheng Xuanying’s subcommentary says: What worldly people value most is abundant wealth, high status, an honored name, long life, and a good reputation. What they love most is delicious food, fine clothing, pleasing colors, and sweet music. When people obtain these things, they treat them as what they rely on, where they can feel secure, and what makes them happy.

What people throughout the world regard as lowly is poverty, low status, a short life, and a bad reputation.

Cheng Xuanying’s subcommentary says: Poverty, low status, an early death, and a bad name are all circumstances that people regard as undesirable.

What people throughout the world find painful is being unable to keep the body comfortable, taste delicious food, wear fine clothes, see beautiful sights, or hear good music. When they cannot obtain these things, they become anxious and afraid. Is it not foolish to treat one’s body this way?

Guo Xiang’s commentary says: Failing to obtain these things does not harm the body; obtaining them may instead harm one’s inborn nature. Yet people now regard not obtaining them as a misfortune. That is why this is called foolishness.

Cheng Xuanying’s subcommentary says: These external things do people no good, yet worldly people suffer when they cannot obtain them. When their desires go unsatisfied, they become anxious and afraid. Is it not foolish to exhaust oneself in managing the body this way?

The wealthy wear themselves out with labor and rush about in hardship, accumulating great riches yet unable to enjoy them fully. To treat their own bodies this way is to hold them at too great a distance.

Note: Those who truly care for their bodies need only learn contentment.

Commentary: The rich exhaust their minds and wear themselves down with toil, gathering great wealth but refusing to spend it. How could they truly cherish themselves?

The eminent worry day and night over whether their actions are right or wrong. To treat their own bodies this way is to hold them at too great a distance.

Note: Those who truly love themselves seek satisfaction only within themselves.

Commentary: People in high positions think far ahead. Their stipends are generous, but so are their worries. They calculate day and night how to speak up and correct mistakes, tiring their bodies and unsettling their minds without a moment’s rest. Is this not to hold their own bodies at too great a distance?

When people are born, sorrow comes with them. Those who live long grow dull in mind and spirit; to grieve for a long time without dying—how painful that is! To treat one’s body this way is to hold it at too great a distance.

Note: Only by first letting go of attachment to life can one forget one’s sorrows; only by forgetting one’s sorrows can one enjoy life. Once one can enjoy life, one understands that the body belongs to oneself, wealth is one’s possession, and rank is one’s honor.

Commentary: Some people are dull by nature and are born with sorrow. Even if they live a long time, their minds remain clouded; to grieve for so long without dying becomes a torment. To treat the body this way is to be far from true happiness and at odds with it.

People of loyal and courageous resolve—those who uphold justice for the world and do not hesitate to sacrifice themselves—are regarded by others as good. Yet such conduct may not preserve them. I do not know whether this so-called goodness is truly good or false. If it is truly good, it fails to preserve them; if it is not good, it can still save the people.

Note: If this kind of “goodness” is carried too far, it cannot protect the whole person.

Commentary: “Sincerity” means what is genuine. People of loyal and courageous resolve give up their lives and uphold their principles, winning a reputation that endures for generations; the world regards them as good. But is this goodness genuine or false? If it is genuinely good, it should preserve them, yet it does not. If it is false, it should not be able to sustain the people, yet it does. When a ruler listens to a minister’s remonstrance, peace comes to the realm, and the people are indeed saved. But if the loyal minister is killed as a result, he has not preserved himself.

Thus it is said: If you remonstrate with loyalty and the ruler will not listen, you should yield for the time being and stop arguing.

Note: Only those who have the balanced virtue of the Mean—neither excessive nor deficient, and acting with restraint—can do this.

Commentary: “Yielding” means complying. A minister who encounters a ruler acting without the Dao should sincerely remonstrate and correct his mistakes. If the ruler will not listen, the minister should yield for the time being and cease arguing. If he offends the ruler by insisting on his case, he will surely be punished or even killed.

Wu Zixu, a minister of the state of Wu in the late Spring and Autumn period, risked being put to death to remonstrate with King Fuchai of Wu. Had he not spoken up, he could never have earned a reputation for loyalty and righteousness. This shows how difficult it is to judge simply whether remonstrating is right or wrong, or whether it counts as good or bad.

I do not know whether people today truly find joy in the things they do and desire. They treat craving for external things and indulgence in sights and sounds as happiness, but whether this is genuine happiness remains uncertain. A heart led by desire may not be a reliable judge.

I see people pursuing what they desire as though rushing toward death, yet they call themselves happy. People gather in the world to compete for sights, sounds, and desires, and refuse to stop even as they approach death. Everyone calls this happiness. I neither regard it as happiness nor as unhappiness; I simply let all things be as they are, without clinging to a judgment.

Does the pleasure of pursuing external things truly count as happiness? In my view, the happiness of stillness and emptiness, through Wuwei (non-action, acting without contrivance or being driven by desire), is genuine happiness.

The common world regards pleasure in sights and sounds, wealth and splendor, and the ring of gold and jade as happiness. It takes flattering words and praise as a good reputation, while treating quiet simplicity, solitude, and stillness as suffering. The highest happiness, then, is not clinging to what the world calls happiness; the highest reputation is not seeking what the world calls a reputation.

What is right and wrong under Heaven is indeed hard to settle. Yet if one can practice Wuwei and let people everywhere bear and face their own judgments, right and wrong will emerge from each person’s standpoint.

Action means being attached to doing things, clinging to one’s own opinions, and arguing over right and wrong. But if there is no definite standard for right and wrong, no conclusion can be reached. Wuwei (non-action) is empty, still, and free of attachment to either “right” or “wrong.” Once we are no longer entangled in judgments of right and wrong, they can settle of their own accord.

The highest joy preserves both body and mind, and only Wuwei comes close to this state.

When the people live in abundance, I too come close to being secure.

“Close” means approaching, and “secure” means preserved. The highest joy is not pleasure gained through external stimulation, but a steady sense of ease, free from worry. Such a life nourishes body and mind, allowing a person to enjoy their full natural lifespan. Wuwei comes closest to this state.

Consider this: Heaven does not act wilfully, and so it is clear; Earth does not act wilfully, and so it is tranquil.

Heaven’s clarity and Earth’s tranquility arise naturally. They are not deliberately brought about.

Thus Heaven and Earth are both without action. They join in harmony, and the myriad things come into being of themselves.

They do not deliberately bring anything about; they join naturally, and the myriad things come into being. Deliberate effort, by contrast, creates impediments.

Heaven does not intend to make itself clear, yet it is naturally empty and pure. Earth does not intend to make itself peaceful, yet it is naturally tranquil. Thus Heaven and Earth are without action: the two Qi (vital energies) of Yin and Yang meet, rise and descend, and flow in their courses. Calamities recede, good fortune flourishes, and the myriad things come into being. If one deliberately manages this process, it cannot be stopped, nor can it be left to unfold naturally.

The generation of the myriad things is indistinct and elusive; no one knows where it begins.

They all appear of themselves, naturally; no one deliberately creates them.

This generation is vague and hard to discern, and has no fixed form.

The point is that the myriad things are not brought about by deliberate action. There is no visible sign of an intentional creator.

The changes of Yin and Yang in Heaven and Earth nourish and give life to the myriad things without any conscious intent. Their process is subtle, difficult to fathom, and uneven. If we ask where they come from, no one knows; if we observe their forms, we find no fixed appearance. “Mang” and “hu” both mean indistinct or unclear. Here, their order is simply reversed to describe a state that is hard to grasp.

The myriad things flourish in abundance, all growing naturally from Wuwei.

They grow and multiply of themselves.

“Zhizhi” describes a state of great abundance. In spring, the myriad things sprout; in summer, they continue to grow, and all kinds of things flourish. Who makes this happen? They grow naturally of themselves. We may trace their source to their arising from Wuwei; since they are not deliberately planted, how could their growth be the result of intentional action?

Thus it is said that Heaven and Earth are without action, yet nothing fails to be brought to completion through them.

If one acts deliberately, there will be things one cannot complete.

Who among us can attain Wuwei?

If one can attain Wuwei, one will not cling to the pursuit of joy; joy will come of its own accord.

“Who” means “which person.” Heaven is clear and Earth is tranquil; both are empty, still, and spacious. They do not act deliberately, yet they set the myriad things in motion and enable them to grow; nothing is beyond their accomplishment. People in the world are often clouded in mind and attached to desire. Who can truly attain this state of Wuwei? Only someone who can do so may be called…

Zhuangzi’s wife died, and Huizi went to offer his condolences.

Zhuangzi and Huizi were friends whose bond was unassuming but sincere. When a friend dies, one should, by convention, go to offer condolences.

Yet Zhuangzi sat with his legs spread and beat a clay basin as he sang.

“Squatting with the legs spread” describes sitting with the legs apart like a winnowing basket; the “basin” was made of pottery. Zhuangzi believed that life and death have no fundamental difference, and that sorrow and joy can be connected. So after his wife died, he did not weep. Instead, he beat the basin and sang, sitting with his legs spread, seemingly at ease and content.

Huizi said, “You lived together, and she raised your children for you. Now she has grown old and died. If you don’t weep, so be it; but to beat a basin and sing—isn’t that going too far?”

You lived together as husband and wife and raised your children together. Now your wife has grown old and died. To feel no grief and shed no tears already goes against ordinary human feeling; to beat a basin and sing seems even more excessive.

Zhuangzi said, “That’s not so. When she had just died, how could I have felt nothing?”

“That’s not so.” People generally cherish life and dislike death, and grieve when they encounter death. So when I first heard that she had died, how could I have felt no shock or sadness?

“But if we trace life back to its beginning, there was originally no life. Not only was there no life, at first there was no form; not only was there no form, at first there was not even Qi.”

Zhuangzi believed that at the very beginning there was no life. Before form appeared, there was no form; before form, there was no Qi. Later, through a change from nonbeing to being, Qi and form gradually came together, and life emerged. The human body is therefore not eternal, and there is no need to cling to it.

“Everything was mingled in a dim, elusive state. Through change, Qi came into being; Qi changed and form came into being; form changed and life came into being. Now she has changed once more and gone toward death. This is like the four seasons—spring, autumn, winter, and summer—taking their turns.”

The movement of the Dao is hidden in what is dim and elusive, and all things change through the obscure, unfathomable process of creation and transformation. Clear and turbid Qi mingle to form Yin and Yang; the two energies gather and take shape; only when form is complete does life appear. The passage from nonbeing to being is birth through change; the return from being to nonbeing is death through change. Life and death come and go in a cycle, like spring, summer, autumn, and winter following one another. Someone who understands this principle has no reason to grieve or rejoice over it.

“Now she lies peacefully within the great house of Heaven and Earth, while I stand beside her wailing aloud.”

Since he knew that he did not understand the Mandate of Heaven, he stopped weeping.

Note: The principle had not yet been fully understood. To say broadly that one had grasped it and then stopped weeping was a way of teaching those moved by emotion to seek out the underlying principles of things and thereby release the cares that weighed on their hearts.

Commentary: “Calmly at rest” describes a state of peaceful repose; the “great chamber” means the space between Heaven and Earth. After death, one lies at rest in the midst of Heaven and Earth, as though dwelling amid the alternation of cold and heat. How, then, could one grieve and weep as change unfolds? Zhuangzi recognized that he did not understand the Mandate of Heaven, so he stopped weeping and took to beating a clay basin.

Shili Shu, whose name suggests a body misshapen and symbolizes forgetting the body, and Huajie Shu, whose name suggests sturdy bones and symbolizes forgetting cleverness, went together to visit the Mound of Dark Elder and the Ruins of Kunlun—the place where the Yellow Emperor rested.

Commentary: “Dark” means shadowy, and “elder” means one who leads. Here, Kunlun also refers to the human body and mind: the spirit and understanding, deep and mysterious, can become foremost among the myriad things; Kunlun may seem lofty and distant, yet it is within the human body. “Mound” and “ruins” refer to uneven ground and suggest bending down to merge with the ordinary world. Though the Yellow Emperor was a sage ruler, he too could set aside his mind and rest in an ordinary place. This shows that although the utmost Dao is deep and mysterious, its principle is not far away. The author uses Shili Shu and Huajie Shu to express this idea.

Before long, a willow tree grew from Shili Shu’s left elbow. He started in alarm, and grew displeased with this change.

Commentary: “Startled and shaken” describes being disturbed by something unexpected. Willows grow readily, and trees call to mind coffins, so the willow here symbolizes approaching death. Shili Shu and Huajie Shu were observing transformations when a willow suddenly grew from Shili Shu’s left arm. He was alarmed by this, seeming to dislike what had happened.

Shili Shu said, “Do you dislike it?”

Commentary: The two were observing transformation together, and the key was to remain empty and still, forgetting the self. Shili Shu was startled, making it seem as though he took exception to the change.

Huajie Shu said, “I have already let go of everything. What is there left to dislike?”

Commentary: “Gone” means “no longer there.” In observing transformation, what matters is letting go: if one no longer clings even to the “I,” what is there left to dislike?

Birth is something borrowed for a time; the life that comes with it is no more than dust and grime.

Commentary: Yin and Yang Qi, the Five Phases, and the limbs and body temporarily gather to form a human body. Life, then, is only a form assembled for a time. In the end it disperses; it is not a real existence that remains forever unchanged.

Death and life are like day and night.

Commentary: Life is like daytime, and death like night. Heaven and Earth cannot be without the alternation of day and night; how could a person be without the changes of life and death?

Besides, you and I have always been observing transformation. Now it is my turn to undergo it myself. What is there for me to dislike?

Note: These people first admit that they have feelings, then try to dispel their emotions by appealing to reason. If they say, “I have always been without feelings, so I have no worries,” then those who do have feelings will feel cut off from the world and retreat far away into empty places. They will instead become trapped between sorrow and joy, losing their way.

Commentary: You and I travel together, observing change. All things change, and change will come upon me as well. This is simply following what is natural; what is there to dislike? Once we understand the principles of change in life and death, we can be in harmony with the greatest joy.

When Zhuangzi went to the state of Chu, he saw a hollow skull, its dry bones exposed. He tapped it with his horsewhip, then asked:

Commentary: “Dry and withered” describes bones that are lean and lack moisture; “tap” means to strike; a “horsewhip” is a riding crop. Zhuangzi went to Chu and came upon a decayed skeleton with no flesh on it. He tapped it with his riding crop, then questioned it. Through the skull, he conveys a parable meant to show that life and death can be seen as equal in principle.

Zhuangzi asked, “Sir, did you end up like this because you were greedy for life and acted against the Way?”

Commentary: Sir, did you covet the means of making a living and act against the Way, bringing your life to an untimely end and leaving behind this skeleton?

“Or did your country fall and war break out, and were you punished with axe and executioner’s blade, leaving you like this?”

Commentary: Sir, did you witness the fall of your country or become caught up in war, suffering execution by axe and blade on the battlefield and ending up like this?

“Or did you do something wicked, feel ashamed to face your parents, wife, and children, and think you had brought disgrace upon them, leaving you like this?”

Commentary: Sir, did you commit crimes such as robbery or theft, becoming despised by the world and condemned by human relationships, and die in shame, unable to face your parents, wife, and children?

“Or did you end up like this because you suffered from hunger and cold?”

Commentary: “Starvation” means hunger. Sir, were you studying away from home or drifting in a distant land, your clothes and provisions exhausted, until you died from hunger and cold?

“Or did you reach the end of your years and die naturally, leaving you like this?”

Commentary: “Spring and autumn” refers to one’s years. Sir, did you live to an advanced age and die in accordance with Heaven’s decree?

After asking these questions, Zhuangzi drew the skull toward him, placed it beneath his head as a pillow, and went to sleep.

Commentary: “End” means to finish; “draw toward” means to pull closer. Zhuangzi first came upon the dry bones and tapped them with his riding crop. After questioning them, he pulled the skull toward him, rested his head on it, and fell asleep.

In the middle of the night, the skull appeared to Zhuangzi in a dream and said, “You speak like a skilled debater. Everything you just mentioned is a burden borne by the living. After death, none of it remains. Would you like to hear what it is like after death?”

The skull pointed out, “What you have just described are the burdens and troubles suffered by the living. If we speak of what comes after death, there are no such worries. Would you like to hear what the dead have to say?” Zhuangzi sensed this in a dream.

Zhuangzi said, “I would.”

He agreed to hear the skull describe what it was like after death.

The skull said, “After death, there is no ruler above or subject below, and no affairs brought on by the changing seasons. One is at ease and free, taking Heaven and Earth as one’s spring and autumn. Even the joy of facing south as a king cannot compare with this state.”

The commentary explains that the soul’s Qi rises to Heaven, while flesh and bones return to the earth. Since there are no affairs brought on by the changes of the seasons and the alternation of cold and heat, there are naturally no burdens of ruler and subject, or of high and low. One is free and at ease, no longer bound by the changes of life and death, as if living as long as Heaven and Earth. Even the joy of facing south as a king and enjoying the status of a lord cannot compare with this state.

Zhuangzi did not believe it, so he said, “Suppose I asked the Director of Destinies, the god who governs people’s lives and lifespans, to bring you back to life, restore your flesh and skin, and send you back to your parents, wife and children, neighbors, and acquaintances. Would you be willing?”

The commentary explains that Zhuangzi did not believe the skull, so he tested it against the life of the living: if the Director of Destinies restored its body and sent it back to its family and neighbors, would it want to return?

The skull furrowed its brow and wrinkled its nose, then said, “How could I give up the joy of facing south as a king and return to the human world to suffer its hardships?”

The commentary says that furrowing the brow and wrinkling the nose are signs of distress. On hearing that it might regain its body and return to its neighbors, the skull grew distressed instead. Who, it said, would be willing to endure the hardships of the living again and give up the joy of being like a king?

An old interpretation holds that Zhuangzi was enamored of death and detested life. This is mistaken. If that were so, how could one say that he advocated “equalizing” things? To “equalize” them means to be at peace with life while alive and at peace with death when dead. When one’s feelings toward life and death are equally settled, one does not worry, while alive, that death lies ahead. This is the heart of Zhuangzi’s teaching.

Yan Yuan was about to travel east to the state of Qi, and Confucius looked troubled. Zigong left his seat and asked, “I venture to ask, Master: Yan Hui is going east to Qi. Why do you look troubled?”

The commentary explains that Yan Hui was traveling east from the state of Lu to Qi, intending to explain the ways of governing of the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors to the Marquis of Qi. Confucius worried that these ideas would not suit the times or move the marquis, so he looked troubled. Zigong then left his seat, addressed himself as a disciple, and asked Confucius why he was concerned.

Confucius said, “You ask a good question. Guan Zhong once said something I very much agree with: ‘A small vessel cannot hold a large object, and a short rope cannot draw water from a deep well.’”

The explanatory note says, “‘Chu’ means a vessel, ‘huai’ means to contain, and a ‘geng’ is a rope used for drawing water. A vessel with little capacity cannot hold a large object, and a short rope cannot reach the bottom of a deep well. These words come from the Guanzi. Confucius agreed with them and quoted them as a metaphor.”

Confucius continued, “People each have a fixed measure of natural endowment, and each body has a form suited to it. Neither can be arbitrarily increased or diminished.”

The commentary says, “Since this is so, one should follow what is natural.”

The explanatory note says, “Each person receives a particular capacity from Heaven’s mandate. Whether dull or intelligent, each has limits to what they can achieve. The body is formed by the workings of creation, and each person’s temperament and preferences have their own appropriate direction. Wild ducks and cranes, for example, have legs of different lengths; one should not cut them or lengthen them in an attempt to change them. One should therefore follow one’s nature, for that is the proper way.”

Confucius said, “I fear that Yan Hui will speak to the Marquis of Qi about the ways of Yao, Shun, and the Yellow Emperor, and then go on to speak of the teachings of Suiren and Shennong. If the Marquis turns inward to examine himself but cannot grasp what he hears, he will become confused. And in his confusion, Yan Hui may lose his life.”

The commentary says, “When people search within themselves and find no answer, they turn outward in search of one. How could they avoid confusion if they abandon what is within and pursue what is outside?”

The explanatory note says, “The Yellow Emperor, Yao, and Shun were the Five Emperors; Suiren and Shennong were the Three Sovereigns. Confucius feared that Yan Hui would try to persuade the Marquis of Qi with the statecraft of the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors. But ancient and modern times differ, and customs may be either simple and honest or shallow and corrupt. If one clings to the methods of the ancient sages and ignores the circumstances of the present, they are unlikely to succeed. The Marquis might hear these lofty principles without understanding them. If he could find no corresponding understanding in his own experience, he would be perplexed. In his perplexity, he might become angry, thinking Yan Hui superior to himself, and ultimately have him killed.”

Confucius added, “Have you never heard the story? Long ago, a seabird came to rest in the countryside outside the capital of Lu. The ruler of Lu welcomed it into the ancestral temple, held a banquet and served it wine, and had the music of the ‘Nine Shao’—the music of the time of Shun—played for its pleasure. He also prepared a grand sacrificial meal of an ox, a sheep, and a pig.”

The explanatory note says, “‘Jiao’ means the countryside outside the city; ‘yu’ means to welcome; the ‘Nine Shao’ is music associated with Shun; and ‘tailao’ refers to an ox, a sheep, and a pig. In the past, there was a kind of seabird called Yuju, which was very large, with a head eight feet high. It had come here to escape the wind and settled in the eastern countryside of Lu, but it was only an ordinary bird. People mistakenly took it for an auspicious omen. Zang Wenzhong treated it with ritual honors and was therefore considered lacking in wisdom. The ruler of Lu held a banquet for the bird in the Grand Ancestral Temple, serving wine and food and having music performed; this is the story. The explanatory note also emphasizes that Zang Wenzhong regarded the bird as divine, but this does not mean the ruler of Lu himself believed it was a divine bird.”

The bird was so disturbed by the music that its vision grew dim and its heart troubled. Grief-stricken and terrified, it dared not eat a morsel of meat or drink a sip of water, and died after three days.

The Shao music, said to have been composed by Shun, and the grand sacrificial offerings known as the Great Prison were fine things, but they were not suited to be offered for Yuanju, a legendary seabird, to eat or enjoy. Hearing the music made the bird’s vision grow dim and its heart sorrowful; a few days later, it died. This is like explaining the profound and remote principles of the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors to the Marquis of Qi: he could neither understand nor accept them.

This was simply a way of caring for people applied to a bird, rather than caring for it according to its nature.

The Shao music, sumptuous offerings, and food and wine are things for nourishing people, not ways to care for birds. It is like Yan Hui trying to teach the Marquis of Qi his own learning and ideas: they were not what the marquis liked.

To care for a bird according to its nature, one should let it roost in a deep forest, wander freely among the river islands and sandbanks, float on rivers and lakes, and feed on loaches and whitefish roe. Let it fly with its flock, settle wherever it pleases, and live in peace and ease.

The commentary explains that river islands and sandbanks are stretches of sand in the water; qiu means loach, and tiao means whitefish roe. “Winding and leisurely” describes a relaxed, unhurried manner. The way to care for a bird is to let it live in a thick forest, move freely among the sandbanks, feed on fish, float on rivers and lakes, and fly with its flock in ease and comfort. That is how to care for it in accordance with its nature. It is like the Marquis of Qi living in the way he is accustomed to, at ease and content, without envying anything else.

The bird merely dislikes hearing people talk that way. Why make such a noisy performance of the music? When pieces like the Xianchi and the Nine Shao are played across the wilds of Dongting, birds fly away, beasts flee, and fish sink to the bottom. Only people gather to watch.

The commentary explains that “why” means “for what reason,” and “noisy and clamorous” describes a din. Xianchi is music from the time of Yao, and “the wilds of Dongting” refers to the space between Heaven and Earth. “Circle around” means to move about. People enjoy the Xianchi and Nine Shao, but birds, beasts, and fish do not enjoy listening to them. Those who like the music gather to watch; those who dislike it fly high or dive deep. Since living creatures have different likes and dislikes, what use is there in playing such music?

Fish live in water, and people live on land. Fish die when they leave the water, and people die when they enter it. Their likes and dislikes must differ, so their ways of living differ too.

The commentary explains that fish like water and dislike land, while people like land and dislike water. The natures of people and fish are different, so their likes differ, as do the circumstances in which they live or die. This difference exists not only between people and fish; it is true of all things.

Therefore, the sages of antiquity did not demand that all beings be alike in every respect, nor did they make them all do the same things.

The note says that sages let each thing follow its own nature.

The commentary explains that the sages of antiquity followed the nature of all things, allowing each person to put their strengths to use like a suitable tool, without forcing everyone to be the same…

Each person acts according to their own circumstances, and what they do differs accordingly. To use the way of the Three Sovereigns to persuade the Marquis of Qi would be utterly unrealistic.

A name should be limited to what is actually there, and principles of right conduct should be established according to what is fitting. This is called keeping things in good order and having one’s De (Virtue/Power) sustained by support.

Note: When names correspond to realities and actions are fitting, things are kept in good order. When one’s nature can remain settled, De is sustained.

Commentary: Names are established according to actual circumstances, and names in turn identify what is actual; therefore, a name should be limited to what is real. Do not pursue empty fame apart from reality. “Right conduct” means what is fitting: set a fitting course of action according to the circumstances, so that it accords with one’s nature. Do not abandon yourself to imitate others blindly. If you can do this, things may be said to be in good order, with De sustained by support.

Liezi (Lie Yukou) was eating by the roadside when he saw a skull that seemed to have lain there for a hundred years. He pushed aside the tall grass, pointed at it, and said, “Only you and I understand: we have never died, and we have never been born.”

Note: Each finds joy in the circumstances that have come their way.

Commentary: “Pushing aside” means clearing something away; “beside” means at the side. Lie Yukou had run short of provisions on his journey, so he ate by the roadside. By chance, he saw a withered skull whose appearance suggested it had been there a very long time, hence the phrase “a hundred years.” The skull was hidden beneath the tall grass, so he pushed the grass aside and spoke to it. The skull regarded life as death and death as life; Liezi, by contrast, regarded life as life and death as death. Each clung to one side, and neither view can serve as a final judgment. That is why he said, “We have never died, and we have never been born.”

“Do you truly take quietness and Wuwei (non-action) as the way to nourish life? Do I truly take life among people as a source of joy?”

Note: There is no fixed standard for what counts as ease and joy.

Commentary: You prefer quietness and Wuwei: can this way of life really make you at ease? I prefer life among people: is life among people necessarily something to rejoice in? Feelings that arise with changing circumstances cannot be settled in advance.

How many kinds of things are there in the world?

Note: The kinds that arise through transformation are beyond counting.

Commentary: Yin-Yang brings about the transformations of creation, and things continually change. Their kinds are too numerous to calculate.

When they receive water, they become “successors.”

Commentary: Moistening Qi (vital energy) enables things to grow, so that what was absent comes into being and one thing follows another.

When they receive a meeting of water and earth, they become “frog’s clothing”—the green moss that grows on the water.

Commentary: “Frog’s clothing” means moss. It grows in water, spreading like a layer of cotton wadding, and is commonly called “toad’s clothing.”

When they grow on a hill or other high ground, they become “hill plantain”—the plantain herb.

Commentary: “Mound” means an earth hill, and “hill plantain” is the plantain herb. Growing on high ground, it becomes plantain.

When hill plantain receives “muck” (dung and soil),

Commentary: “Muck” means dung and soil. As hill plantain withers with age, it becomes muck.

It then becomes black-foot grass, the name of a plant.

The commentary: Dung and soil also transform into the roots of black-foot grass.

The roots of black-foot grass become grubs—the larvae of cicadas, scarab beetles, and other insects—while its leaves become butterflies. The butterflies, in turn, continue to change.

The commentary: Grubs are a kind of insect, and xu is another name for butterflies. The transformations of the myriad things have no fixed pattern, so the roots of black-foot grass become grubs and its leaves become butterflies.

The butterflies transform into insects that live beneath the stove. They look like insects that have just shed their skins and are called quduo.

The commentary: Quduo are a kind of insect. They take shape from the stove’s heat and have the clean, delicate appearance of insects that have just shed their skins.

After a thousand days, quduo become birds called qianyugu. The saliva in a qianyugu’s mouth then transforms into simi.

The commentary: The saliva in a qianyugu bird’s mouth can transform into an insect called simi.

Simi become vinegar gnats, the tiny flies found in vinegar jars.

The commentary: The tiny flies found in vinegar jars are also called vinegar chickens.

Yilu arise in vinegar gnats, while huangkuang arise in jiuyou.

The commentary: Huangkuang are also a kind of insect.

Maorui arise in rotten quanquan.

The commentary: Maorui and quanquan are both names of insects. Quanquan refers to fireflies, though some say it means flour moths.

Yangxi are similar to buxun and jiuzhu.

The commentary: These are all names of plants.

They give rise to Qingning.

The commentary: When plants such as yangxi combine with jiuzhu, they give rise to an insect called Qingning.

Qingning gives rise to Cheng.

The commentary: Cheng is also the name of an insect.

Cheng gives rise to horses, and horses give rise to humans.

The commentary: The source of this statement is unknown.

Humans ultimately return to the “pivot,” the root from which the transformations of creation unfold. All things arise from the pivot, and all return to it.

The note: This means that all things are generated from the same flow of Qi, continually changing in form, with no true birth or death.

The commentary: The pivot is the source that sets transformation in motion; it is creation itself. Creation has no form or substance. Humans take shape from the formless and ultimately return to the formless. This is true not only of humans but of all things: what has no awareness can transform into what has awareness, and what has awareness can transform into what has none. What has no awareness can also become something else without awareness, and what has awareness can become something else with awareness. Transformations without end continue without limit. Birth and death are simply different states in which all things emerge from and return to the transformations of creation. Once you understand that transformation is inexhaustible, why cling to life or loathe death? To grasp this meaning is what is called supreme joy.