《南華真經註疏》Vol. 21

Those who understand the nature of life do not pursue things beyond their proper share that cannot be attained. Guo Xiang’s commentary says these are external things that lie beyond one’s own allotment.

Those who understand the nature of fate do not fixate on investigating matters beyond their power. Guo Xiang’s commentary says these are matters beyond the reach of fate, which one cannot control.

Each person is born with an inborn allotment: some are beautiful, others plain; some live longer, others less long. Wealth or poverty, high or low status, intelligence or dullness, ease or hardship—even the smallest details—are not for us to decide. Those who understand life and fate therefore have clear and lucid minds. They do not covet what lies beyond their proper share, nor do they waste their efforts on matters beyond their power. No human ingenuity can change the allotment one receives in life.

Caring for the body certainly requires material goods. Yet it is also true that people may have abundant goods and still fail to care properly for their bodies.

Guo Xiang’s commentary says that when we know where to stop and keep our means in proportion to what life requires, life can be settled; excessive desire only brings harm. The explanatory commentary says that “things” here means everyday necessities such as money, clothing, and food. Caring for the body requires these goods, but they are limited and cannot be accumulated without end. Thus, some people in the world greedily amass possessions; though their stores are great, they fail to care for their bodies.

Once people are alive, they cannot avoid being burdened by their physical form. Yet some cling so fiercely to preserving the body that they end up losing their lives.

Guo Xiang’s commentary says that an excessive attachment to guarding the body can lead to the loss of life. The explanatory commentary says that, living in the world, we cannot entirely escape our physical form and our thoughts. If we cherish the body too much, we may instead lose the proper way of preserving life. Such cases also exist in the world.

When life comes, people cannot refuse it; when life departs, they cannot stop it.

Guo Xiang’s commentary says that since the coming and going of life and death are beyond our control, there is no need to cling to them. The explanatory commentary says that when we understand the changes of life and death as part of the natural workings of creation, we will neither despise nor resist them.

It is lamentable that people in the world believe that caring well for the body is enough to preserve life.

Guo Xiang’s commentary says that the more deliberately one tries to preserve the body, the easier it may be to lose one’s life. The explanatory commentary says that the length of one’s life and the coming or departure of death are not ours to decide. Yet ordinary people do not understand this: they covet possessions and lavish care on the body, mistakenly believing that this will preserve their lives. This is truly cause for lament.

Ultimately, caring for the body is not enough to preserve life.

Guo Xiang’s commentary says that the more excessive the care, the sooner death may arrive.

If people devote themselves to chasing after things and excessively nourishing the body, they will only approach death more quickly. This cannot truly preserve life. If so, what in the world is worth pursuing without restraint?

Zhuangzi says that following nature is better than forcing things. People bustle about in pursuit of external things, originally to sustain their lives. But if pursuing external things does not truly nourish life, then we know that worldly affairs are not worth taking too seriously.

Although some things are not worth pursuing deliberately, others cannot be left undone, because people cannot avoid them. Each person’s innate duties and abilities come from the principles of nature, so they cannot be entirely avoided. Those skilled at caring for life act in accordance with these duties: they do not force things, nor do they deliberately evade them.

There is no need to do what lies beyond one’s proper role, while what falls within it cannot be left undone. Seeing with the eyes, hearing with the ears, walking with the feet, and thinking with the mind are abilities people possess by virtue of their nature and the principles of nature. Even when one takes action, there is no need to avoid it deliberately, so long as it does not arise from forcing things.

To avoid being burdened by the body, nothing is better than setting aside worldly affairs. When burdens are set down, the mind can become calm and at peace; when it is calm and at peace, it can respond to the ceaseless change and renewal of all things. “Renewed life” means that something changes anew each day. Entrusting everything to this unceasing renewal allows the nature of life to be fully realized.

If one wishes to take action to care for the body, the best course is to set aside worldly affairs that go beyond one’s proper role. Letting go of these affairs brings freedom from worry and burden; free of worry and burden, one can accord with the Way of what is true and peaceful. When the mind is balanced and upright, it can harmonize with ceaseless renewal and thereby experience the mystery of the Great Way.

What is there that must be given up? What is there in life worth forgetting? When worldly affairs are set aside, the body will not be worn out; when life is not treated lightly, the spirit will not be depleted. Worldly affairs are inherently illusory, so giving them up need not be seen as a loss; nor is everyday life something to be forgotten. Setting aside excessive worldly business allows the body to rest; refusing to cast life aside allows the spirit to settle and remain undiminished.

When the body is kept whole and the spirit restored, one can become one with the Way of Heaven. To keep the body whole is to preserve one’s innate life without disturbance; to restore essence is to keep the spirit firm and free from loss. When both body and spirit are whole, one returns to the source and accords with the De of the Way of Heaven.

Heaven and Earth are the parents of all things. Heaven and Earth show no partiality, and so can bring forth and nurture all things. Those who accord with the De of Heaven and Earth can likewise embrace all things without limit.

When things gather, they take on particular forms; when they disperse, they open a new beginning. The commentator explains that wherever things may be, they can assume forms suited to that place, and have no fixed, unchanging abode.

When Yin-Yang (the two fundamental forces that interact) combine, they form a body. When the breath disperses, the body returns to the state it was in before birth. If neither the body nor the vital essence is damaged or depleted, this is called being able to move along with change.

Commentary: To move in step with the transformations of all things.

Exegesis: “Move” means to shift or transform. The body is not worn down, and the vital essence is not depleted. One can therefore follow change, let things unfold naturally, and transform along with all things.

Refine the essence until it is perfected, and in the end it will, in turn, assist Nature.

Commentary: To turn back and assist Nature itself.

Exegesis: “Assist” means to help. By gradually letting go of attachments to external things, one reaches a state of ever greater refinement. Then one can return to one’s origin and assist the Dao of Nature.

Liezi (Lie Yukou) asked Guanyin (the Keeper of the Pass, Yin Xi, courtesy name Gongdu; legend holds that he was a disciple of Laozi): “The Perfected One (a person of the highest spiritual attainment) moves unseen through the world without being obstructed, walks through flames without feeling heat, and walks over all things without fear. May I ask how one can attain this state?”

Commentary: The Perfected One’s mind is empty and still, so he can master the profusion of material things.

Exegesis: In antiquity, “zi” was an honorific for a teacher, a term of praise for a virtuous person. Liezi was Lie Yukou. Guanyin’s surname was Yin, his given name Xi, and his courtesy name Gongdu. He once served as Keeper of the Hangu Pass, which is why he was called the Keeper of the Pass. Tradition holds that he was a Perfected One and a disciple of Laozi, with Dao and virtue in his heart. For this reason, Lie Yukou sought his guidance. “Obstructed” means blocked. The supreme sage gathers in his radiance and conceals his sharpness, moving unseen through the world and mingling with ordinary people. He is not hindered by external circumstances, like an empty room with no obstruction. Some editions read “empty” instead of “root” for the character 本.

Commentary: This is because his state is utterly at ease, so there is nothing he cannot endure; it is not that external things deliberately come to accommodate him.

Exegesis: He deeply understands the changes of cold and heat, so neither can harm him. His mind does not cling to distinctions such as high and low, noble and humble, and therefore he has no fear.

Guanyin replied: “This comes from preserving pure, harmonious Qi. It is not achieved through cleverness, courage, or decisiveness.”

Exegesis: He is unharmed by external things because he preserves pure, harmonious Qi and nurtures a calm, tranquil nature. This is not achieved by exercising the intellect, making distinctions and choices, using clever devices, or relying on courage and decisiveness.

Liezi remained seated. Guanyin said to him: “I will tell you the ultimate truth of this.”

Everything that has form, shape, sound, or color is a thing. By what measure can things be ranked as higher or lower, near or far?

Commentary: Only one who is free of intention can reach this state.

Commentary: They are equally just things with color and form; this alone is not enough to say that one comes before the other.

Exegesis: Everything that can be seen or heard, whether it has form, sound, or color, belongs to the category of “things.” Both are things with form and color, …

All things belong to the same kind of existence. On what grounds can we say that one surpasses another, or that one comes before another? It is because they are all limited by sound, color, shape, and appearance. Only those who go beyond form and color, and are not confined by sight and hearing, can transcend outward appearances and stand before all things.

All things come into being from the formless and come to rest where nothing changes.

[Commentary] They are constantly at ease in the ultimate realm of things.

[Exegesis] Because they are not constrained by form and color, they can give rise to form and color. Though they do not change, they can bring change to all things. Thus all things come forth from the transformation of nature, receive their forms, and undergo change. This transformation is the root of the generation and change of all things.

One who can grasp and thoroughly understand this root—how could all things bind them?

[Commentary] One who has reached the ultimate is not constrained by external things.

[Exegesis] How could the things of the world bind or control someone who grasps the deep source of transformation, understands the subtle essence of nature, exhaustively investigates the principles of things, and fully expresses their own nature? Such a person can come and go alone, freely entering and leaving, following the right course and putting change to use. What, then, would they need to rely on?

Such a person rests in a state that is neither excessive nor beyond its proper bounds.

[Commentary] They are at peace with the allotment of life they have received.

[Exegesis] The sage who has attained the Dao has a quiet, empty, and untroubled heart and a broad outlook, and does not become mired in the world.

They entrust themselves to the order of the Dao, which has neither beginning nor end.

[Commentary] In a deep and mysterious way, they accord with ceaseless change.

[Exegesis] The Great Dao has no point of origin and no distinction between beginning and end. Here, primordial chaos is used as a metaphor for the guiding order of the Great Dao. The sage therefore conceals their thoughts and actions in a hazy, mysterious realm.

They roam amid the changes through which all things pass from beginning to end.

[Commentary] “Beginning and end” refers to the limits of a thing’s development.

[Exegesis] The beginning and end of all things are the transformations of nature. The life and death, beginnings and endings of all things belong to these transformations. The sage follows nature and roams within them.

They make their nature whole and undivided.

[Commentary] Deliberate cultivation brings distinctions.

[Exegesis] They act in accordance with their nature, and so avoid division and partiality.

They nourish their original Qi.

[Commentary] They do not use the mind’s intentions to force it into submission.

[Exegesis] Through breathing practices, they bring body and mind to a quiet, balanced state, thereby protecting and nourishing their original Qi.

They bring their own De into accord with the Dao.

[Commentary] They do not allow external things to divide their nature.

[Exegesis] By maintaining unity without straying from it, they can remain in accord with the subtle De of the Dao.

In this way, they understand the principles by which all things come into being.

[Commentary] All things are brought forth by transformation, each in its own way.

[Exegesis] All things come into being spontaneously. Since they can make their nature whole and accord with De, they can also be in accord with… [The original text ends here.]

It is precisely by adapting to things that one can reach the source of the utmost Dao and pass through to the nature of the natural world.

In this way, a person’s inborn nature remains whole and intact, and the spirit has no gaps. How, then, could external things intrude?

Commentary: “A person like this” refers to the sage mentioned earlier. “From” means “starting from.” A person like this preserves the Dao of nature, keeping it whole and without loss. The mind and spirit are settled and clear, with no gaps at any time. How, then, could worldly things enter the heart?

A drunkard who falls from a carriage may not die, even if it is moving very fast. His bones and joints are like anyone else’s, yet he is less likely to be injured, because his spirit is in a state of unknowing. He does not know he is riding in the carriage, nor does he know when he falls. Death, life, and fear have not entered his breast. So even when he encounters external things, he is not startled or afraid.

Commentary: From here on, three illustrations explain how the sage follows his independent, inborn nature and remains inwardly unattached. The first is the drunkard, the second the sharp sword, and the third a flying roof tile. Here the text begins with the drunkard. A drunkard riding in a carriage may suddenly be thrown out when it overturns, and will surely be shaken and hurt, yet may escape death. The point is that he has no worries or concerns in his heart, and his spirit is settled and whole. Unaware of both the ride and the fall, with neither life nor death nor fear entering his heart, he does not panic when confronted by external things.

Note: He has merely lost awareness through drunkenness; this is not the natural absence of self-consciousness found in a sage.

If a drunkard can temporarily preserve himself through intoxication, how much more can one whose inborn nature is whole and in accord with nature?

Commentary: Through drunkenness, the drunkard’s mind and spirit are temporarily calm and unharmed by external things. How much more so the sage, whose De is whole and who accords with the Dao of nature? External things cannot harm him, and so he can merge with nature.

The sage takes shelter within the Way of Heaven; therefore nothing can harm him.

Note: Because he does not pursue anything beyond the limits of his nature, he is said to be “sheltered.”

Commentary: The sage’s insight is like the sun, moon, and stars, and his wisdom extends throughout the myriad things. Yet he draws in his radiance, conceals his wisdom, and dwells in the realm of nature. Thus external things cannot harm him.

A person seeking revenge will not break the swords Ganjiang and Moye, famous blades of antiquity.

Note: Although Ganjiang and Moye were once used to kill and create enmity, the avenger does not deliberately break them, for he bears no resentment toward the swords themselves.

Commentary: This is the second illustration. Ganjiang and Moye were famous swords of antiquity, used to kill and give rise to enmity. Yet the avenger ultimately does not take his anger out on the swords, much less break them. This is because he bears no resentment toward them, and so external things cannot harm him.

Even a person harboring resentment does not resent a roof tile flying toward him.

Even when a falling roof tile strikes and injures someone, people do not blame it, because the tile has no feelings or consciousness.

If a falling tile happens to injure someone, even a narrow-minded person who is quick to resent others will not resent the tile, because it is a thing without a mind. This is the third analogy.

Thus peace can prevail throughout the world.

Whatever is not peaceful comes from feelings, awareness, and discrimination. The world is free from the disorder of wars of aggression and from the execution of people as punishment precisely because it follows the Dao of Wuwei (non-action).

The principle of being without feelings or awareness and following nature’s course has far-reaching significance.

Peace prevails within the seas, and the distant borders are secure. There is no warfare in the fields, nor killing and punishment in the court. This is all because the Dao of Wuwei is put into practice, bringing about such conditions through the sage who is without a mind. From this we can see the far-reaching significance of being “without a mind.”

Do not seek human cleverness and ingenuity; instead, awaken your inborn nature.

To understand spontaneously, without deliberation, is to awaken one’s innate nature. To think consciously first and then respond to things is to use artificial cleverness. Thus, awakening one’s innate nature is the natural activity of one’s nature; using artificial cleverness is the function of the mind.

Guo Xiang’s commentary says, “To understand spontaneously, without deliberation, is to awaken one’s innate nature; to think consciously first and then respond is to use artificial cleverness.” He goes on to say that awakening one’s innate nature is the activity of one’s nature, while using cleverness is the function of the mind. Guo Xiang has made the point clearly; no further explanation is needed.

When one awakens one’s innate nature, De (Virtue/Power) grows from it.

To act in keeping with one’s nature, respond aptly when things arise, and be content without coveting more than one needs: this is the growth of De.

Using artificial cleverness instead harms life.

To rely on the mind to respond to things, ceaselessly pursuing sensations and desires without knowing when to stop, is to harm life. When one acts in keeping with one’s nature, one can remain calm and still amid one’s actions, and De grows from this. But using cleverness to control worldly affairs brings deep harm. The Laozi says, “When cleverness is used to govern a state, calamities arise in the state; when cleverness is not used to govern a state, blessings and De arise in it.”

Do not go against Heaven-given nature, and do not neglect the ordinary principles of human life.

When Heaven-given nature is allowed to run its course, the ordinary principles of human life are naturally preserved.

Always act through one’s natural nature, without rejecting it; at the same time, meet external things by letting them take their natural course, without neglecting the ordinary principles of human life.

Then the people will be almost able to return to their original nature.

The people’s troubles and pretenses often arise from excessive reliance on the mind, rather than from the natural activity of their innate nature.

“Almost” means approaching or nearly attaining something. By following one’s nature while also taking account of the ordinary principles of human life, the activity of one’s nature and the function of the mind do not come into conflict. There is then no separation between people and their innate nature, and the people of the world can draw close to their original nature, with little pretense.

When Confucius went to Chu, he was walking through a forest when he saw a hunchback catching cicadas with sticky poles. He moved so skillfully that it seemed as easy as picking something up from the ground.

An old hunchback bent over, using a pole tipped with sticky material to catch cicadas. He caught them with such light, nimble movements that it was like bending down to pick up a blade of grass. Not a single cicada escaped him.

Confucius asked, “Your skill is remarkable. Do you have a special method?”

The old man replied, “I do.”

He went on: “When I began practicing, I balanced two pellets on the tip of my pole. After five or six months, I could keep them from falling. Then I rarely missed a cicada; failure came only once in a while.

“Later, I balanced three pellets on the tip. They still didn’t fall, and I missed only about once in every ten attempts.

“After that, I balanced five pellets on the tip and could keep them from falling. By then, catching cicadas was like bending down to pick something up. I almost never missed.”

The old man said, “I hold my body steady like a tree stump, and the arm that holds the pole is like a dead branch.” He meant that his concentration was so complete that his body and arm remained perfectly still.

“Though Heaven and Earth are vast and the myriad things are many, I keep my mind fixed only on the cicada’s wings. Whatever happens, I do not change my posture or let anything else distract me from the wings. How could I fail to catch the cicada?”

Confucius turned to his disciples and said, “When the mind is single and undistracted, the spirit can gather itself. Surely this is just what the old hunchback has shown us.”

Commentary note: I’ll preserve the technical Daoist terms and the passage’s explanatory structure, while rendering the prose in natural English.

Only when the mind is wholly focused, the spirit settled, and the breath calm, without distraction, can one attain the extraordinary mastery shown by piling pellets and catching cicadas.

People suspected that spirits or ghosts were helping with this. To encourage his disciples, Confucius told the story of the hunchbacked old man who caught cicadas. It illustrates just this kind of mastery.

Yan Yuan asked Confucius, “I once crossed the deep pool of Shangshen. The ferryman’s skill at handling his boat seemed almost divinely assisted.”

Shu: Shangshen is the name of a deep pool in the state of Song. It was named for its shape, which resembles a wine cup. “Ferry worker” means the person who ferries people across; “handle” means to manage and steer. Yan Hui once crossed the river there and saw the ferryman maneuver the boat with extraordinary skill and agility, as if by the power of spirits or ghosts. He found it astonishing and asked Confucius for an explanation.

Yan Hui asked, “Can the skill of steering a boat be learned?” Confucius said, “Yes. Someone who is good at swimming can master it through repeated practice.”

Note: Even when a skill comes naturally, it takes repeated practice to become proficient.

Shu: Yan Hui asked whether the skill could be learned. Confucius replied that someone who enjoys swimming can learn it by practicing again and again. Skills may come from natural gifts, but they can also be acquired through practice until they become habitual.

As for someone who can dive, even if he has never seen a boat before, he can steer one at once.

Note: “Someone who can dive” means someone able to descend beneath the water.

Shu: The note says that a diver goes underwater like a duck. The point here is that the ferryman knows the water so well that he can move beneath it like a duck, and so can steer a boat too.

Yan Hui asked again, “I asked him, but he would not tell me. What does that mean?” Confucius said, “Someone who is good at swimming can, through repeated practice, reach a point where he no longer thinks about the water.”

Note: Through practice, a skill becomes habitual and eventually seems to come naturally.

Shu: Someone who enjoys being in the water and practices again and again will no longer be afraid. It is as though he has forgotten the water is there.

As for someone who can dive, even if he has never seen a boat before, he can steer one at once: he sees a deep pool as though it were a hill, and a boat capsizing as though a cart were rolling backward.

Note: He sees a deep pool as though it were a hill, so a boat capsizing in it looks to him like a cart rolling backward on a slope.

Shu: Because he knows the water and swims often, practice has become habit. He therefore sees a deep pool as he would a hill on dry land. Even if the boat capsizes, he takes it no more seriously than a cart rolling backward on a slope.

All the boat’s movements—capsizing, advancing, and retreating—may unfold before his eyes, yet none of them enters his mind.

Note: However many movements there are, including capsizing, advancing, and retreating, he does not dwell on them; steering a boat has become completely familiar to him.

Shu: Here, “shelter” refers to the mind. The boat’s changing movements are all there before him, yet he does not take them to heart. Since he no longer treats the water as a cause for concern, he need not give it any thought.

Wherever he goes, he can respond with ease.

When you act in accord with your nature, steer a boat with ease, and swim freely, with no reserve or worry in your heart, you can be at ease wherever you go. This applies not only to steering a boat; it applies to learning the Dao (the Way) as well. Once you can let go of attachment, you can understand the principles of life.

When a tile is the prize, the archer shoots skillfully; when a belt hook is the prize, the archer grows fearful; when gold is the prize, the archer’s mind becomes clouded. The more precious the prize, the more concerned the archer becomes.

If the prize for archery is something worthless, such as a tile, the archer has nothing to protect and can focus on aiming, so the shot is accurate. If the prize is a belt hook, which is somewhat valuable, the archer fears missing; that fear arises in the heart, and the shot becomes inaccurate. If the prize is gold, which is extremely precious, the archer treasures it greatly. The mind then grows clouded, making it even harder to hit the mark.

This shows that the ferryman, skilled at crossing water, acts as if aided by a spirit because he has no worries to weigh on him. The archer’s mind, by contrast, becomes unsettled because he is concerned about the prize. The more we value external things, the more awkwardly we act; when we let go of attachment, we can move with greater skill. Students should keep this in mind.

A person’s abilities have not changed; they only seem less capable because the mind places too much value on external things. Whoever cares excessively about such things is liable to lose inner sharpness.

Caring for life and preserving one’s inner nature probably depends on letting go of attachment and not placing too much weight on external things.

There is no inherent difference between a skilled archer and an unskilled one. But when a person prizes an external thing—gold, for example—the mind becomes clouded and sluggish with concern for it. This does not happen only in archery; it happens in other pursuits as well.

Tian Kaizhi went to see Duke Wei of Zhou. The duke said, “I have heard that Zhu Shen is studying the art of nourishing life. You spend time with Zhu Shen. Have you heard anything about it?”

Tian Kaizhi was a student of the Dao, while Zhu Shen was a practitioner. Duke Wei had heard that Zhu Shen was studying the art of nourishing life, so he asked Tian Kaizhi, who studied under him, in the hope of learning its methods.

Tian Kaizhi replied, “I carry a broom and serve in the courtyard. What could I have heard from my teacher?”

Tian Kaizhi said that he merely swept the courtyard and served his teacher, and would not presume to ask about his teacher’s Dao. In ancient times, students serving their teachers would often carry a broom and take on chores such as sweeping.

Duke Wei said, “Master Tian, there is no need to decline. I would like to hear what you have to say.”

“Humility” means being modest. I would very much like to hear about the way of nourishing life. Please instruct me.

Tian Kaizhi said, “I hardly deserve such praise. Please don’t be so modest.”

Tian Kaizhi replied, “I once heard my teacher say that someone skilled at nourishing life is like a shepherd. When he sees a sheep lagging behind, he gives it a flick of the whip to urge it on.”

The commentary explains: I take up Zhu Shen’s account and compare nourishing life to herding sheep. A sheep that falls behind is whipped so that it catches up and reaches a balanced state.

Duke Wei asked, “What does that mean?”

The commentary explains: Duke Wei had not understood Tian Kaizhi’s words, so he asked him to explain.

Tian Kaizhi said, “In the state of Lu there was a recluse named Shan Bao. He lived in a rocky cave and drank from mountain springs, seeking no gain at the expense of the people. He lived to the age of seventy and still had the appearance of an infant. Unhappily, he encountered a hungry tiger, which killed and devoured him.”

The commentary explains: Shan Bao’s surname was Shan and his given name was Bao. He was a recluse of Lu. He lived in a rocky cave and subsisted on water, without competing for fame or profit. Though old, his appearance had not grown aged. After living for a long time in the mountains and forests, he suddenly encountered a hungry tiger and was eaten.

“There was also a man named Zhang Yi. There was no grand household or street in a county town that he did not hurry to visit. He lived to the age of forty, then fell ill with internal heat and died.”

The commentary explains: Zhang Yi’s surname was Zhang and his given name was Yi. He, too, was from Lu. “Grand households” refers to wealthy and powerful families; “county residences” refers to houses with hanging curtains. Zhang Yi pursued worldly advantage. He hurried to visit every great mansion and every curtained residence. He rushed from one social obligation to another, offering congratulations and condolences, wearing himself out without ever stopping. In the end, internal heat flared up, he became ill, and he died.

“Shan Bao cultivated his inner life, but a tiger harmed his body. Zhang Yi tended to outward things, but illness harmed him within. Neither man urged forward the side that lagged behind.”

The commentary explains: Shan Bao had few desires and lived quietly, cultivating his inner virtue, but a tiger injured him from the outside. Zhang Yi associated with the powerful and pursued worldly aims, tending to his outward form, but died when illness attacked him from within. Each clung to one side and failed to find a suitable balance; neither spurred himself to develop the side he had neglected.

Confucius said, “Do not draw everything inward.”

The note explains: To have already drawn things inward and then keep drawing them further inward is excessive introversion.

The commentary explains: As the note says, to have already turned inward and then continue to store everything away is to cling to a life of seclusion, like Shan Bao.

“Do not display everything outwardly.”

The note explains: To have already turned outward and then continue to display oneself further is excessive outward expression.

After displaying itself, it deliberately displays itself again; this makes it fixated on “going forth.”

Commentary: This is Zhang Yi’s situation.

Zhang Yi stood in the center like a withered tree.

Commentary: Like a withered tree, he was free of self-interest and took his place appropriately in the middle.

Explanatory note: “Firewood” means wood. He was attached neither to entering public service nor to withdrawing from it, but let go of both. Like a withered tree, he had no desires and leaned toward neither side, resting calmly in the middle way.

If one can understand the names of these three situations, one can reach their utmost.

Commentary: Though the names have limits, the principles they encompass are boundless.

Explanatory note: Names are used to explain principles, and principles are expressed through names. If one understands the three statements given above, one can fully grasp their principles and understand the ultimate meaning of “name.” In other words, one who understands these three situations may be called someone who has attained the highest state.

Roads are perilous and may cost people their lives. So fathers and sons, brothers and brothers warn one another to take enough companions before they dare set out. Is this not knowing how to protect oneself?

Explanatory note: “Road” means a path. Bandits and other dangers lie along the way, making travel frightening. If ten people travel together and one is killed, their relatives warn one another and dare not set out lightly. They gather more companions, travel in a group, and carefully make sure it is safe before departing. Is this not knowing how to preserve oneself and avoid harm?

What people should truly be wary of is sexual desire between the bed and mat, and indulgence in food and drink. To take no precautions against these is a mistake.

Commentary: As soon as people hear that one out of ten has been killed, they are terrified. Yet the harms of sexual desire can lead people to their deaths, and still they take the risk and indulge. This is a grave mistake.

Explanatory note: “Bed and mat” refers to the objects of everyday life, such as clothing and bedding. When one person out of ten dies on a dangerous road, people still warn one another and travel cautiously. But with food and drink, they do not know restraint; and between the bed and mat, they give themselves over to lust, with the result that they may end up dead. Many people in the world behave this way. It is a very great failing.

At a sacrifice, an officiant wore a dark ceremonial robe and went to the pigsty, where he said to the pig:

Explanatory note: “Officiant” refers to the official who presided over the ritual announcements at a sacrifice, like the six ritual announcers under the Grand Steward in later times. “Dark ceremonial robe” means ritual attire; “pen” refers to the enclosure; and “pig” means a swine. At an ancestral temple sacrifice, an officiant would wear the dark ceremonial robe and hold a ritual tablet to make offerings to the spirits. Before the rite began, the officiant went to the pigsty, preparing to persuade the pig. His words are given below.

He said, “Why are you afraid to die? I will feed you for three months, have you fast for ten days and bathe for three, then lay you on white thatching and place you on an ornately decorated sacrificial vessel. Would you be willing to receive such a blessing?”

Commentary: Raising pigs means feeding livestock; a zu is a vessel for holding meat. Here it refers to a sacrificial meat stand decorated with carvings.

Someone says to a pig, “Why do you love life and hate death? I will nourish you with fine food, purify you through fasting, then lay white rushes beneath you and place you on a sacrificial meat stand. Would you not welcome such treatment?”

If you were making plans for the pig, you would say, “It would be better to feed it bran and wine dregs and keep it in a pen.” But when making plans for yourself, you might think that as long as you can cling to life, you can enjoy the honor of riding in a carriage and wearing a crown; and after death, you can lie in a coffin and be placed in a richly decorated funeral carriage. Those things, too, are worth pursuing. When making plans for the pig, you reject the white rushes used in sacrifice and the carved sacrificial stand. When making plans for yourself, you accept carriages, crowns, funeral carriages, and coffins. How are you any different from the pig?

Note: To enjoy being provisioned, one must give up one’s life. This is a common principle, the same for people and livestock.

Commentary: Cuo means to place, and zhuan means to decorate with painted designs. Shun and ce refer to a carriage; here they mean a funeral carriage painted with designs. Julou refers to a coffin and its outer casing. If you were making plans for the pig, you would keep it in a pen and feed it wine dregs and bran, without white rushes or the trouble of decorating a sacrificial stand. But when making plans for yourself, you might think it desirable to ride in a fine carriage and wear a crown while alive, then enter a coffin and ride in a funeral carriage after death. When making plans for the pig, you reject the white rushes and carved sacrificial stand; when making plans for yourself, you accept carriages, crowns, funeral carriages, and coffins. How are you any different from the pig? This is foolish confusion: you do not understand how to follow the nature of life.

Duke Huan of Qi, whose personal name was Xiaobai, was hunting in the marshes, with Guan Zhong driving his carriage. Duke Huan saw a ghost, grasped Guan Zhong’s hand, and asked, “Father Zhong, did you see anything?” Guan Zhong replied, “I saw nothing.”

Commentary: Duke Huan was Xiaobai. While hunting in the open marshland, he had Guan Zhong—Guan Yiwu—drive his carriage. Frightened after seeing a ghost, Duke Huan took Guan Zhong’s hand and asked him about it. Guan Zhong replied that he had seen nothing. This passage explains that many illnesses arise from groundless anxiety and fear in the mind.

After Duke Huan returned, he was dazed and anxious. He fell ill for several days and did not go out.

Commentary: Wuyi describes a slack, dazed state and can also mean troubled and uneasy. After seeing the ghost, Duke Huan returned in fear and fell ill, so he stayed indoors.

A Qi scholar named Huangzi Gao’ao said to Duke Huan, “You have harmed yourself. How could a ghost harm you?”

Commentary: Huangzi was his surname and Gao’ao his courtesy name; he was a worthy man of Qi. Hearing that Duke Huan was ill, he came to visit and said that Duke Huan had brought harm upon himself by giving rise to groundless suspicions. How could a ghost have the power to harm him? He sought to dispel, through sound reasoning, the illness Duke Huan had brought on himself through deluded thoughts.

When people become angry, malevolent Qi gathers within the body. If this Qi disperses and cannot return to the body, the Jing and Shen scatter; the Shen-Qi cannot return to the body, the mind and spirit grow weak and damaged, and the body is left depleted.

If malevolent Qi surges upward but cannot descend, it attacks the head, making a person inwardly fearful, troubled, and prone to anger. If it sinks downward but cannot rise, Yang-Qi lies dormant while Yin-Qi becomes disordered, leaving the mind dazed and prone to forgetfulness. The heart governs the Five Zang organs and is where the spirits dwell. So when malevolent Qi becomes lodged between body and mind, it makes a person ill.

Duke Huan asked, “Then are there really ghosts in the world?” Huangzi replied, “There are.”

In the mud beneath the water lives a ghost called Lü. The Kitchen God, guardian of the hearth, is called Ji. He looks like a beautiful woman and wears red.

Among the filth and dust inside doorways lives a ghost called Leiting.

At the foot of the wall in the northeast corner of a house lives a ghost called Bei’axianlongyue. It looks like a child, stands one chi and four cun tall, wears black clothes and a red sash, and carries a sword and a halberd.

At the foot of the wall in the northwest corner of a house lives a ghost called Yiyang, with a leopard’s head and a horse’s tail.

In the water lives Wangxiang. It looks like a child, has black skin, wears red clothes, and has large ears and long arms.

On earthen mounds lives Zu. It looks like a dog, has horns, and bears colorful patterns on its body.

In the mountains lives Kui. It is as large as an ox and shaped like a drum, with only one leg, which it uses to walk.

In the wilderness lives Panghuang. It is shaped like a snake, has two heads, and bears five-colored patterns on its body.

In lakes and marshes lives Weishe. Duke Huan asked, “What does Weishe look like?”

Huangzi replied, “Weishe is as large as a cartwheel and as long as a cart shaft. It wears purple clothes and a red cap. It hates the sound of thunder carts. When it hears one, it clutches its head and stands upright. Whoever sees it may one day become a hegemon.”

Duke Huan laughed when he heard this and said, “That is exactly the thing I saw.”

“䟓” describes the look of someone laughing with delight; “殆” means “close to” or “almost.” If you have seen Weishe, the marvelous being from ancient legend, you may almost be said to have achieved supremacy.

Duke Huan heard this and laughed heartily. “That is exactly what I saw with my own eyes,” he said.

He then straightened his clothes and cap, and invited the other person to sit down and talk. In less than a day, he found that his illness had disappeared without his even realizing it.

Note: This chapter says that when worry arrives and burdens life, it is because one does not understand the situation. When distress fades and one’s nature is free to unfold, that shows a clear understanding.

Commentary: After hearing about Weishe, Duke Huan felt at ease. He straightened his clothes and cap, then spoke with the other person. In less than a day, the knot in his heart suddenly came undone, and he could not tell how his illness had gone away.

Ji Shengzi was raising fighting cocks for the king.

Commentary: Ji was the man’s surname and Sheng his given name; Sheng is also written “Xiao.” Here, he is raising fighting cocks for the king of Qi, preparing them to fight. This chapter explains that inborn nature is not shaped by endowment alone; sometimes it can also be cultivated through long practice.

Ten days later, the king asked, “Are the cocks ready?” Ji Shengzi replied, “Not yet. This one is still flighty and conceited, and relies on its own spiritedness.”

Commentary: After ten days of raising it, is the cock ready to fight? The answer is that it has only just begun to grow proud and self-assured, acting on impulse, so it is not ready.

Another ten days passed, and the king asked again. Ji Shengzi said, “Still not ready. When it hears other cocks crow, it answers them; when it sees them, it reacts.”

Commentary: It still responds to what it hears and sees, as though sound and shadow were answering one another.

Another ten days passed, and the king asked again. Ji Shengzi said, “Still not ready. Its gaze is still sharp, and its presence forceful.”

Commentary: It still darts its eyes about, full of spirited energy. Its mind is not yet at rest, so it is not ready to fight.

Another ten days passed, and the king asked, “Is it ready now?” Ji Shengzi replied, “Almost. Even when other cocks crow, it no longer reacts.”

Commentary: It is no longer proud, and its mind is settled. Even the crowing of other cocks cannot unsettle it. The art of raising fighting cocks has reached its culmination.

Seen from a distance, it looks like a wooden cock. Its De is now complete. The other cocks dare not challenge it; they turn and flee.

Note: This chapter says that once one has been cultivated to completeness, one is invincible in external contests. How much more, then, is one’s own life preserved?

Commentary: Its expression is composed, its form calm and steady. Seen from afar, it resembles a carved wooden cock: it neither moves nor startles. Its De is complete. The other cocks flee at the sight of it, and no one in the world dares to challenge it.

Confucius was watching a waterfall at Lüliang. The water there was thirty ren deep, and its spray stretched for forty li. Even tortoises, alligators, fish, and turtles—various kinds of aquatic animals—could not swim in it.

Commentary: Lüliang is the name of a body of water, though different accounts disagree about its precise location. Some say it is at Lishi in the Western River region, where the Yellow River passes over a cliff called Lüliang. Others say it is in Puzhou…

A hundred miles from Longmen, the river passes over a cliff and plunges down as a waterfall. This place is also called “Liang.”

Some say it is the Lüliang Falls in Pengcheng, in the state of Song. A waterfall eight chi high is one ren; by that reckoning, it would be twenty-four zhang tall, with the water dropping from a great height. The fall here today is very high, so the fable’s description is probably an exaggeration. A yuan resembles a soft-shelled turtle but is larger; a tuo looks like a fish but has legs. The waterfall drops steeply, and its current rushes so swiftly that the spray and foam surge for thirty li. Even creatures in the water cannot swim across it. How, then, could someone on land wade across?

Confucius saw a man swimming in the water. Thinking the man had met with disaster and was trying to drown himself, he sent his disciples downstream to catch up and rescue him.

Commentary: The water churned in a fierce current that an ordinary person could not swim across. When Confucius suddenly saw a man, he thought the man was drowning and trapped, so he ordered his disciples to go downstream and rescue him.

After swimming several hundred paces, the man climbed ashore. His hair hung loose as he walked along singing, strolling at ease by the bank.

Commentary: Tang means the riverbank. Having come safely out of the water, he let his hair hang loose, walked along singing, and wandered freely by the shore.

Confucius caught up with him and asked, “At first I thought you were a ghost or monster. Looking closely, I see that you are a man. May I ask: do you have some special method for walking in the water?”

Commentary: The man faced the raging current without fear and even sang as he walked. Confucius found this strange, so he caught up with him and asked, “I thought you were a spirit or ghost. After looking carefully, I see that you are a man. How do you manage to walk in deep water? Do you have some method?”

The man replied, “No. I have no special method.”

Commentary: The man said he had no particular skill. He had simply swum for a long time; with practice, it became a habit, and that habit became part of his nature.

“At first, I grew up on land. Later, I became accustomed to water and grew up in it. In the end, I followed my nature.”

Commentary: At first I grew up on land and knew the land well. As I grew older, I swam in the water; with long practice, I formed the habit of living in it. Once I was accustomed to the water, I was no longer afraid. I let things take their natural course, as if following the decree of Heaven.

“I am drawn in along with the water’s whirlpool, then surge out with the returning current.”

Note: The water’s twisting inward, turning like the center of a millstone, is called “qi.” The current that swirls and churns before surging outward is called “gu.”

Commentary: The swift current twists inward, turning like the center of a millstone; this is called “qi.” The water swirls and churns, then surges outward; this is called “gu.” He had adapted to the water’s force, and his movements followed its natural changes, so he paid no heed to the current’s ebb and flow. Guo Xiang’s commentary says that people in the eastern regions called a mill a “wei”; “being drawn in like the mill’s hub” means being swept inward as though turning at the center of a millstone.

Act in accordance with the nature of water, without bringing in your own private intentions.

Commentary: Let the current carry you; do not act according to your own wishes.

Explanation: Follow the current and entrust your body to the flow of water. Do not let private feelings suddenly stir up resistance. If one can follow the water in this way, how much more should one wholeheartedly follow the Great Dao?

That is why I can walk on water.

Explanation: There is no other technique involved; the principle has been fully explained.

Confucius asked, “What does it mean to be guided first by old habits, then by one’s nature, and finally by one’s destiny?”

Explanation: You have not yet understood this point. Please explain it further.

He replied, “I was born in the hills, so I am at ease living in the hills; this is habit. I grew up by the water, so I am at ease living in the water; this is nature. I do not know why I am this way, yet it comes about naturally. This is destiny.”

Commentary: This passage says that each person has a particular ability. If one follows what one is capable of doing, nothing under Heaven is difficult. Meeting the course of life with this sense that nothing is difficult allows one to find one’s way wherever one goes.

Explanation: The three ideas of habit, nature, and destiny have already been explained above and need not be repeated.

Qing of the Zi family, a carpenter from Lu, carved wood into a stand for musical instruments. When the finished piece appeared, everyone who saw it was astonished, thinking it had been made by spirits.

Commentary: It did not look as though it had been made by human hands.

Explanation: Qing of the Zi family was a master craftsman in Lu. Some say that “Zi” was an official title. A ju was a musical instrument, shaped like a pair of bells; others say it resembled a tiger and was carved from wood. Qing’s carving was so skillful that the finished piece seemed not to have been made by human hands. Those who saw it were amazed and unsettled, believing it to be the work of spirits.

The Marquis of Lu saw it and asked him, “What skill did you use to make this?”

Explanation: The Marquis of Lu was struck by the ju’s uncanny workmanship and, puzzled, asked Qing what technique he had used to make it.

Qing replied, “I am only a craftsman. What special skill could I have? Still, I do have a method. When I prepare to make a ju, I never let my spirit and vital energy become depleted. I always begin by fasting and quieting my mind.”

Explanation: Qing said that he was only a craftsperson and had no special ability. But he did have a way of working: when preparing to make a ju, he would not let his mind attach itself to distracting thoughts and drain his vital essence. Instead, he would first fast and become still, settling his spirit.

After three days of fasting, he no longer thought about congratulations, rewards, official rank, or salary.

Explanation: After three days of fasting in body and mind, matters such as congratulations or condolences, rewards or punishments, official rank, and salary no longer occupied his thoughts.

After five days of fasting, he no longer thought about whether others would praise or criticize him, and no longer concerned himself with whether the work was skillful or clumsy.

Explanation: As the days of fasting increased, his mind grew steadily calmer. Praise and criticism no longer weighed on him, and he set aside all concern with whether the work was skillful or clumsy.

After seven days of purification and abstinence, he was so still that he seemed to have forgotten he had limbs and a body. At that point, the court had vanished from his mind.

Once his mind and spirit were wholly focused, the turmoil of things outside him also disappeared. He then went into the mountains and woods and studied the natural shapes of the trees. Only when he had found a piece of wood suited to making a musical instrument stand—a wooden frame for hanging bells and stone chimes—did he begin to work on it. If the wood did not seem suitable, he stopped.

In this way, he used human nature to follow the nature of the wood, without violating its original, natural state.

The craftsmanship of an object can be so exquisite that it seems to have come from the hands of spirits. This is probably why: the maker follows the material’s own subtle qualities completely, and works in accordance with its nature. That is what makes the result seem so miraculous. This passage shows that when one follows the nature of things, one’s skill can attain the refinement of spirits; when one goes against their nature, one strains and labors, yet becomes clumsy.

Dongye Ji was highly skilled at driving a chariot. He gave Duke Zhuang of Lu a demonstration: the chariot moved forward and backward in lines as straight as those drawn with a carpenter’s ink line, and turned left and right in circles as true as those made with a compass. Duke Zhuang thought his driving was so exquisite that even the patterns of woven embroidery could not compare.

Duke Zhuang then had him drive around in curves a hundred times before returning to the starting point. Each time, the chariot traced a winding path like a hook, then finally returned to its original track.

Yan He, a worthy man of Lu, witnessed this and went to the palace to see Duke Zhuang. “Dongye Ji’s horses are close to exhaustion,” he said. At first, Duke Zhuang did not believe him and said nothing.

After a while, the horse did indeed collapse from exhaustion. Lord Sun asked Yan Sheng, “How did you know this would happen?”

The commentary explains: Before long, the horse grew exhausted and collapsed. Lord Sun asked Yan Sheng how he had foreseen it.

Yan Sheng replied, “The horse’s strength was already spent, yet it was still being made to run. So I knew it would certainly collapse.”

The note explains: This shows that everything has a proper limit, which must not be exceeded.

The commentary explains: Yan Sheng said that the horse had used up its strength, yet was still being asked to perform beyond its capacity. That is why he knew it would inevitably collapse. This is true not only of horses and carts, but of all things.

When the artisan Chui, renowned in legend for his skill in making things in the time of Emperor Yao, turned his compass, it traced a circle. His fingers adapted freely to the needs of the object he was making, without his having to deliberate over and over in his mind.

The commentary explains: “Turning” means drawing a circle with a compass; the compass is used to draw circles. “Ji” means to pause or become obstructed. Chui was an artisan in the time of Yao, naturally very skillful. As he worked with tools and measures, his hands adapted freely to the needs of the object. He applied his skill in keeping with the material, without hesitation or obstruction.

Thus, his inner mind was not constrained.

The note explains: Even someone as highly skilled as Chui still relied on tools and measures. The point is that when you act in accordance with the conditions inherent in things, the task becomes easy to complete.

The commentary explains: By following things as they are, without clinging to one’s own preconceptions, the mind remains empty, still, and calm. The inner mind is therefore settled and focused, free of constraint.

When you forget your feet, your shoes fit comfortably; when you forget your waist, your belt fits comfortably.

The note explains: When every part of the body feels at ease, a person forgets their own body.

When you forget disputes over right and wrong, the mind can be at ease and free.

The note explains: Disputes over right and wrong arise from inner unrest.

The commentary explains: Shoes are made for the feet, and belts for the waist. When the feet and waist are comfortably dressed, one no longer notices the shoes or belt. It is like becoming caught up in disputes over right and wrong because of worry. If one can understand and let go of right and wrong, the mind can remain at ease and joyful.

When the mind is not changed by things around it, and one does not force oneself to follow the outside world, this is the ease that comes from being in accord with things.

The note explains: When you are content with whatever you encounter, your mind is not changed by external things. “Following” means going along with something.

The commentary explains: When discriminating thought about external things settles down, the mind is no longer disturbed, and the world outside no longer creates obstacles. Since one is not led along by external affairs, one can accord with the true Dao (the Way) and be at ease wherever one goes.

To begin in ease and remain at ease everywhere: this is the ease that comes from forgetting ease.

The note explains: If you are still conscious of being at ease, you have not yet truly found ease.

The commentary explains: “Beginning” means the source. One who understands the Great Dao is empty, still, and unattached; ease is inherent in their nature, and does not arise only after something external stirs delight in them. That is why they can be at ease whatever they encounter. This is ease gained by forgetting ease, not by deliberately seeking it.

There was a man named Sun Xiu.

The commentary explains: His surname was Sun, and his given name was Xiu. He was from the state of Lu.

He came to the gate of Bian Qingzi’s home and complained to him: “I, Sun Xiu, live in the countryside, yet people say I do not cultivate myself. When danger comes, they say I am not brave. Yet when I farm, I never catch a good harvest; when I serve my ruler, I do not…”

You meet guests in your village, then are driven away when you reach the regional seat. What wrong have you done that you should blame Heaven? Alas, how can it be that you have met with such a fate?

The commentary says: “Following one another” means occurring without end; “lament” means to tell or sigh. Sun Xiu could not comprehend the Great Dao, yet blamed his repeated misfortunes on his own fate, and so sighed without cease. Bianzi, surnamed Bian and named Ziqing, was a worthy man of Lu and Sun Xiu’s teacher.

Sun Xiu was a worldly man who did not understand the Mandate of Heaven. He went to Bianzi’s house many times and said: “I live in the village, yet have never met anyone who understands the Great Dao. I have not adorned myself, and when I fall into hardship, no one recognizes my worth. I have no military skill, yet I farm the plains; when the harvest is poor, my crops fail. I serve my ruler at court, yet have not met a sage ruler or received a generous official post. When I reach the regional seat, I am banished; in my own village, I am rejected. What wrong have I done against Heaven to meet with such a fate?”

Bianzi said: “Have you never heard how those who have attained the Dao conduct themselves? They forget their liver and gallbladder, and cast aside their ears and eyes.”

The commentary explains that this means entrusting everything to nature. Those who have attained the Dao carry themselves with a mind that is empty, still, and far-reaching. Inwardly, they forget bodily things such as the liver and gallbladder; outwardly, they are not constrained by the senses of hearing and sight. Their minds are clear and tranquil, without the slightest distracting thought.

At ease, they wander beyond the dust of the world.

The commentary says that, to those who have attained the Dao, all the things spoken of here as real and true are like dust and grime.

Freely and without constraint, they engage in affairs of Wuwei (non-action).

The commentary says that anything done in accordance with nature, arising naturally, belongs to the affairs of Wuwei.

The commentary explains: “Vast and untroubled” describes a state free of thought and worry; “wandering” means moving freely and expansively; “at ease” means following one’s own nature and finding contentment. Those who have attained the Dao live in the world without being stained by it, standing apart from its clamor. They take part in affairs, yet their minds remain unentangled; responding to things, they act with ease.

This is called “acting without relying on oneself,”

The commentary says that this means acting in accordance with one’s nature and with what arises naturally, rather than relying on oneself to bring things about.

“Allowing all things to grow without ruling them.”

The commentary says that this means letting all things grow naturally, without controlling them oneself. Those who have attained the Dao engage with all things and teach others without claiming credit for their achievements. When they nurture the people, do they force them into the shape they themselves desire? This saying comes from the Laozi.

But now you cultivate cleverness and disturb the ignorant, deliberately refining yourself to make others’ failings stand out. You shine so conspicuously that it is as if you walked through the world carrying the sun and moon.

The commentary explains: You deliberately display your intelligence and disturb worldly people, then refine yourself to expose the failings of others. You flaunt your abilities so brightly that it is as if you walked through the world carrying the sun and moon. Can this be called concealing your radiance and cultivating quietude?

You have been given a complete body, with all nine apertures—the two eyes, two ears, two nostrils, and mouth—intact. You did not die young, nor were you left deaf, blind, lame, or crippled. You can live among other people just as they do. This is a rare blessing indeed. What reason do you have to resent the Dao of Heaven? Go on your way.

Commentary: Your body is whole and your nine apertures complete. You did not die young or become deaf, blind, lame, or crippled, and you can live among other people. That is already great good fortune. Why waste time blaming the Dao of Heaven? You should leave now; there is no need to say more.

After Sun Xiu left, Bianzi went inside and sat down. A little while later, he raised his head toward the sky and sighed.

Commentary: After hearing the explanation, Sun Xiu left. When Bianzi had finished speaking, he too returned indoors. Soon afterward, Ziqing, Bianzi’s disciple, sighed.

The disciple asked, “Why are you sighing, Master?”

Commentary: One of Bianzi’s disciples asked him why he had sighed.

Bianzi said, “Sun Xiu came just now, and I told him about the Virtue of the Perfected Person, one who has realized the Great Dao and possesses profound Virtue. I worry that he was startled by it and has become even more confused.”

Commentary: Sun Xiu has come to me repeatedly, lamenting how troubled and unfair his life has been. So I told him about the profound, mysterious Virtue of the Perfected Person. But I worry that his understanding is limited, and that hearing such lofty teachings all at once was more than he could bear. He may have been startled and become even more confused. That is why I sighed.

The disciple said, “Not necessarily. If Sun Xiu is right and you are wrong, then words that do not accord with reason cannot make him truly understand. How could they confuse him? If you are right and Sun Xiu is wrong, then he came to seek instruction precisely because he was confused. What is there to blame him for?”

Commentary: If Sun Xiu is right and Bianzi is wrong, then words that do not accord with reason will not confuse him. If Bianzi is right and Sun Xiu is wrong, then Sun Xiu came to seek instruction because he was confused. In either case, asking why Bianzi sighed makes his sigh seem unwarranted.

Bianzi said, “That is not so. Once, a bird settled in the outskirts of the state of Lu. The ruler of Lu was very fond of it, so he prepared a grand feast of ox, sheep, and pig, and had the music of the Nine Shao played for it. But the bird was distressed and grief-stricken, its vision blurred and its mind in turmoil; it dared not eat or drink. This is what it means to care for a bird as one cares for a person. To care for a bird according to its nature, one should let it perch in a deep forest, float on rivers and lakes, feed it what suits it, and let it live freely on the open ground.”

Note: Each thing has a way of life suited to its own nature.

Commentary: This story is about the yuanju bird, not a bird that foretells good fortune. The ruler of Lu treated it to lavish sacrificial offerings and music, but these went against the bird’s nature. This story was already discussed in the previous chapter, so it will not be repeated here.

Sun Xiu is now seeking instruction from someone of limited understanding and experience, yet I am telling him about the virtue of the Perfected Person. It is like hauling a tiny mouse in a great cart, or delighting a little sparrow with the music of bells and drums. Faced with such things, how could they fail to be alarmed?

Note: This chapter says that those skilled in nurturing life accommodate each being’s nature and endowment, allowing life to find its proper place.

Commentary: “Xi” means a tiny mouse, and “yan” means a sparrow. Sun Xiu had little understanding and limited experience, so he should have been guided gradually. Instead, he is being told about the virtue of the Perfected Person and the profound mysteries of the Great Dao. This is like carrying a tiny mouse in a great cart or entertaining a little sparrow with the music of Shao. Faced with things far beyond what they can bear, how could they not be frightened?